Carrie in Keds

Whenever I tell someone I'm a writer, for some reason, I usually get this response: "You're just like Carrie Bradshaw from Sex and the City!" It's funny, too, because several people have had that reaction all on different occasions.  

My reaction? "Yeah, I'm exactly like Carrie Bradshaw from Sex and the City... except without the rich, handsome men, I don't live in the city, and instead of Manolo Blahniks I wear Keds.  Other than that, yes.  We're exactly the same."

And then I watch the show and listen to her reading from her columns and wish that I could do that to my blog.  It wouldn't be nearly as interesting, though.  
Hers are all: 

“As I walked home, I couldn't help but wonder ... When did being alone become the modern-day equivalent of being a leper?”

“I couldn't help but wonder, No matter how far you travel or how much you run from it, can you ever really escape your past?”

“I wondered: In today's youth-obsessed culture, are the women of my generation growing into mature responsible adults, or are we 34 going on 13?”

“Although, at what point do separate interests become separate bedrooms? I couldn't help but wonder: To be in a couple, do you have to put your single self on a shelf?”

                                                                                                                                        ---Carrie

Is it crazy of me but I would totally wear a flower that big on my shoulder.

Mine would be more like:

"As I sat in my room writing my novel, I couldn't help but wonder: Are pajamas the new work wear, or is it just me?"    

"As I left my part time retail job, I wondered: Is my boyfriend going to watch TV with me tonight?"   

"While Sam and Dean shot ghosts with rock salt on the screen I wondered: Does my bestie have more wine?"

"As I waited for my friend to text me back, I wondered: In our society if we can't even wait 10 minutes for a reply, how can we wait 4 months til the next season of The Walking Dead?"
                                                                                                                                          ---Me

Hers are so much better, right?!

Then I was googling Manolo Blahnik for this post (which, by the way, I find it entirely creepy that facebook is now giving me ads for it, but I digress...) Where was I? Oh yeah, Manolo Blahnik.  I about had a freaking shoe-gasm. Holy crap-balls I wanted those shoes so freaking bad!

This one in particular. It makes me drool a little.

Look! It's pretty and sparkly and pretty and pretty! And expensive and pretty!

Was it good for you too?

I need to be rich just so I can wear those shoes. I would sell a kidney to own those shoes. Want my eggs? Take 'em, just leave the shoes! Half my liver? Ok, what do I need it for anyway?!?! Gimme, gimme, gimme, I need, I need!!

And as I thought about selling a kidney to own a pair of Manolo Blahniks, I wondered... Am I more like Carrie than I thought?