As I wandered near the site of New York City’s Sex and the City premiere yesterday, dodging small bands of women united by a common interest in over-accessorizing for daytime (and being in my way), I found myself compiling a list of people and things that owe much of their current popularity to said show:

Manolo Blahnik
The concept of brunch
Cosmopolitans
Clubs Bungalow 8 and Bed
Cupcakes
The Rabbit
The word fabulous
Retardedly over-thought outfits

Next on my list was “bitching about men”, and I stopped myself short. SATC, I’ll give you credit for the context (brunch, obvs) but you don’t get credit for this one. I should know, I’m a woman, and I’ve been gabbing about men since long before Sex was a twinkle in HBO’s eye.

I’ve been thinking about this phenomenon more recently, as romantic relationships take a more prominent and permanent place in the lives of my friends. Casual dating, serious dating, sleeping around, moving in together, some crazy folks getting married, yadda yadda yadda. Whatever the situation, women have a need (which sometimes borders on the obsessive and pathological) to compare notes and share war stories. Read More »

• Absolute adorableness aside — don’t get drunk and eat these by accident. I trust you guys…I can just see that happening. (kilian-nakamura.com)

• Damn dude…get the hint. (wvec.com)

• Even if you guys may get a little skeeved by Tarantino’s obvious foot and leg fetish or his uncanny ability to come off as both the best and worst director in Hollywood, I just find it impossible to dislike the man. Even if he makes this. (Star Pulse)

• As if cigarettes aren’t expensive enough in New York City…now we can waste our money AND look like douchebags! (Crown7.com)

• Scientists think that a bra they’ve developed, that may detect breast cancer with the use of microwaves, is safe. Probably. (medialaunches.com)

I’m sitting here reading this article about kissing and it is making me really wish my boyfriend wasn’t 1,000 miles away so I could just make out with him.

Like, a full on seventh grade make-out sesh.

I love to kiss. Which, I suppose, why a poll of 1,000 college students at a New York City school, mentioned here, isn’t really mind blowing.

Apparently we, as women, like to kiss. And we think it’s really important to boot. We use “kissing as a way of assessing the recipient as a potential partner, and later to maintain intimacy and to check the status of a relationship.”

While guys “were more willing to have sex with someone without kissing, to have sex with someone they are not attracted to and agree to have sex with someone they considered to be a bad kisser.”

Men also placed less importance on kissing as the relationship progressed. I would imagine since they putting their importance on the bumping and grinding.

The article said that men preferred “wet, tongue kisses” but didn’t say what the ladies liked. I’m guessing it’s a mixture of the tender kisses we like all the time and the passionate (and, err, wet?) kisses that come with sex? Read More »

Girls, hang on to your purses, it looks like we’ve finally surpassed the men when it comes to salary—at least in a few big cities.

The New York Times recently reported that in New York City, full time working women aged 21 to 30 made 117 percent of men’s wages. They made even more than that in Dallas, at 120 percent.

Once the survey branched nationwide, however, full time female wages fell back down to 89 percent

Regardless, this new trend is still a good sign, especially to women of older generations who have been fighting the wage battle as long as females were invited into the workforce. Many companies seem to be getting the message that boobs and lipstick don’t equal less skill.

While it’s not entirely clear why women are making more cash in cities like New York and Boston, some experts speculate it could be because women are graduating from college at higher numbers than men, and many of those graduating girls are “gravitating toward major urban areas”. Read More »

I live in New York City. Therefore, I should be used to Random Acts of Rudeness. Small things should no longer phase me. But because I am a nice, sweet, mostly polite girl, I am still very often radically offended and crazily frustrated by rude people acting obnoxiously. Here are a few examples of my most recent run-ins with RAR.

• At a job interview, the interviewer answers his blackberry not once, not twice, but three times in the middle of my answers to his questions. No sorry, hold on a moment, just a complete switch from looking at me and listening to typing away on his stupid toy. Each time he would chuckle at whatever inside joke was taking place on the tiny screen, leaving me nothing to do but admire the bare walls and stare out the window. Needless to say, I’m taking that job the day hell freezes over. Read More »

After reading this article, I immediately A) contemplated the idea of joining a dating site, B) thought about buying myself a nice large carton of ice cream, and C) considered bursting into depressed, under-achieving tears.

Apparently, there are loads of 20-Somethings just swarming the streets of NYC who are already married, buying houses, and having kids.

These “New Victorians” (as the article dubs them) are über-educated, über-driven, and kinda boring.

Most of them would rather spend the night at home with their significant other than go out on the town, renovate their bathroom instead of driving off on a road trip, and own 3 purebred cats instead of cruising by their local ASPCA for a big, hyper dog.

Somewhere along the line, these “New Vics” must have picked up enough money to do all these things by 27, because not many people I know in that age range have the kind of cash that allows for a steady, stable home in a city where a studio apartment can start at $1500 a month. Read More »

I’m all for women’s rights, a feminist, no doubt. Recently, I even got into a heated (drunken) debate with a guy friend when he tried to claim that girls can’t drive. After all, how many accidents had he gotten into as opposed to my one measly fender bender? I refused to let him get away with such a pompous statement.

I have a point.

Somewhere along the road, as intelligent ladies demanded equal rights to our male counterparts, (Which by the way we still don’t have. 77 cents to a fella’s dollar, ladies!) men consequently decided that equal rights meant the abolishment of chivalry. Either that, or they just got lazy. (Ahem, the latter. In my opinion.)

What makes matters so atrocious is not even the actual death of chivalry, but the fact that girls everywhere have accepted it, and don’t expect much anymore.

Nowadays, wined and dined makes less sense than that damn word that lost you the spelling bee in fifth grade. (Who knew pneumonia had a P?) Girls’ expectations have become so minimal that if a guy opens the door for you he’s a Casanova, if he pays for dinner he’s practically Romeo, and if he calls you again within three days, well it must be too good to be true. Read More »

I have a little claim to fame.

Well, let’s not kid ourselves—I have lots of claims to fame, some not fit for print—but this one has both made people shake their heads at my ridiculousness and saved me valuable time and energy. What is it? Why, my habit of working one day at a new internship and then promptly quitting.

Yes, it’s true. In fact, I just did it again two days ago.

And I’m glad.

It seems strange to work so hard for something, namely, a summer internship, and then leave after a day. But I’m here to tell you it’s not strange or lazy, provided you’re doing it for the right reasons.

I was pumped about this internship. It was with an organization I respected, was involved in exactly what I want to be involved in once grad school ends and the Loan Monster starts nipping at my heels, and the people connected seemed great. I was optimistic that the last summer internship of my life would truly make use of the talents I’ve been spending thousands of dollars to foster.

But alas, on the first day, it became clear that this was not to be. The morning started out with menial tasks, and the literary manager—someone I thought I’d be working for—hardly looked in my direction except to ask me to address an envelope for him (why the presence of interns make people forget how to do the simplest tasks, I’ll never know). Five hours into the day I was walking around New York, lugging huge packages across midtown and deciding just how and when I’d say goodbye.

But wait! You say, couldn’t that just have been a case of the First Days?

Read More »