Top Five Ways That "Sex and the City" Got Being Single All Wrong

I have spent the last few weeks painting the exterior of my house, shampooing carpets and mowing my grass which is strategically laced with lots of poison ivy just waiting to attack hyper-allergic me.

Today I collapsed on the couch after hauling a carpet cleaning machine up and down the stairs - not to mention back and forth and back and forth on the various carpets. I turned on the TV and came upon an episode of "Sex and the City." It was one of the ones when Carrie was dating Aleksandr Petrovsky, (none of those were amongst my favorites) and it got me thinking about how led astray we single women can be by this quartet of women. I've always been a big fan, but as I sat there, exhausted from cleaning, my legs still stinging from the scratches I got when I had to wade through rambling roses to paint my porch, I thought this is so not the experience of any single women I know. The single women I know are pretty happy, but many struggle financially, most have children, and the only designer clothes they purchase are found in the racks at TJMaxx and Marshalls. So I thought about it and came up with my all time top-five ways that "Sex and the City" is wrong.

1. I have wooden floors and no man (like Carrie's boyfriend, Aidan) has ever offered to come over and refinish them. Aidan was an incredible guy who didn't just buy Carrie's apartment, he bought the one next door as well to create a lovely home for them. And she cheated on him. If any handsome, talented, successful, smart man wanted to re-do my floors, I would promise fidelity. Forever.
2. Like Carrie Bradshaw I am a columnist and I do not own one pair of Manolo Blahniks. Newspapers do not, in general pay writers well. Like choosing to be a teacher because you love children and want to help educate the next generation, you choose to be a writer because you can't not write. If I was smart I would have chosen many other possible careers that would enable me to work one job, not several. There are days that even taxidermy seems like a better alternative to this. Then I get excited about something and I just have to write.
3. Where are all these guys these women go out with? Where I live I'm lucky if I meet a couple of guys a year worth even having a cup of coffee with. Most of the time being alone in the glow of my computer monitor with a hot cup of tea is a more satisfying option.
4. Chances are, if I ever went to a baseball game I would not end up with a date with a baseball player - unlike Carrie who caught a fly-ball and ended up with the "New Yankee." With my luck the ball would have hit me in the head and the only person I would have met would be the medic icing down the melon-sized lump on my head.
5. Men like Big don't come to France and rescue you from your failed romance with a Russian artist. Not that I know anyone who's had a relationship with a Russian artist - failed or otherwise. It was a great fantasy that Big would show up, take Carrie in his arms and tell her, "You're the one, Carrie," but I don't think a commitment-phobe like Big would ever truly do that.

Of course there were many things they did get right:

Beware of "frenemies" - those people who you think are on your side but would just as soon stab you in the back as look at you.

That said, I know from SATC that there is nothing like your girlfriends in good times and bad.

Beware of guys like Jack Berger - quick, funny, make you feel amazing and smart. The ones who seem too good to be true often are.

And, as Carrie learned when she slept with a guy she met at her therapist's office, watch out for the same kind of guy you always go for who always breaks your heart. He might be wearing a different pair of pants than the guy before him, but believe me, you'll be amazed that he always seems to show up just when you thought you've finally smartened up.

WTF? Who The Hell Wants To Go To A "Safari Chic" Party?

I came across an article in the Wall Street Journal today about the ridiculous dress codes people are expecting for their parties.

There were terms like "wild chic," "beach formal," "resort dressy," "international," "festive," and one of my favorites, "creative black tie." What does this mean???

I have to admit that I don't get invited to very many events where an actual paper invitation is sent. Mostly it's phone calls, in person or an e-mail. I know, this says an awful lot about the quality of my social life, doesn't it?

Where I live on the Cape it is a veritable potpourri of fashion dos and don'ts, leaning heavily on the don'ts.

Depending on where on the Cape you are - the more tony Osterville, Centerville area, or the more bohemian lower Cape, it will dictate what's acceptable.

And if you hang near Chatham expect to see lots of madras, pink (on the guys) and embroidered pants. You know, embroidered with whales, fish skeletons, things like that. Yeah, I don't get it either.

Since most the events I get invited to are not formal I don't see a lot of Safari anything, never mind "chic." Having not been to any kind of resort in many years I am not even sure what resort wear would be - a sarong? I'm probably so wrong. Sorry, I had to go there.

I go back and forth about the casualness of where I live. I sometimes wish it was a little more fashion forward, but on the other hand there's something wonderful about being around people for whom labels are the last thing on their minds.

I find working as a writer from home that it's awfully easy to get lazy and not bother to dress nicely and my daughter is the first to tell me when I'm slipping into Cape Cod Lack Of Chic.

There are limits to what I will and will not wear. Here is my own personal dos and don'ts for dressing on Cape Cod (what others do is their business and I'm not judging anyone else's choices, some people look really good in sweat pants, Birkenstocks and socks!)
1. No Uggs when it's not winter
2. I will never buy Birkenstocks
3.Flannel is for lumberjacks, not women who want to look sexy
4. Crocs will NEVER be on my feet. Not now, not ever.
5. Hippie clothes - I'm not a hippie anymore. No tie-dye, no full length skirts (unless it's a ball gown) no wooden clogs and no mom jeans, pegged jeans or acid washed jeans.

You can live here and have style. You just can't expect anyone else to want to wear what you do. So if you have a party, you'd best just be open to what shows up. I haven't seen a lot of pith helmets and only a couple of tuxes in my time here.

The good news is if you're into fashion you'll always be the best dressed person around, and if you're not that's just fine too. No one will judge you, they probably won't even notice.

Is John Mayer An Attention Slut? Quite Possibly!

I know Jennifer Aniston certainly doesn't need my sympathy. She's beautiful, successful and wealthier than I can ever imagine being. But somehow I do keep ending up on Team Aniston because I often feel she gets a raw deal. Perez Hilton is mean to her (why? I can not for the life of figure out how Angelina Jolie is saint-like to him but Jen is tormented all the time on his blog) and magazines scream from their covers all the time how "desperate" she is for a baby, a marriage, hearth and home - or all of the above. Really? Hmmm, she looks pretty happy to me!

Her latest relationship and breakup involving John Mayer has once again proven that the world seems to be laying in wait for Jen to appear heartbroken or desperate. I just never thought a guy she was dating, especially another celebrity would kind of sell her out.

It was while I was out walking this morning that it occurred to me: John Mayer is really kind of a douche. There. I said it. It's not a word I particularly like, but for some folks, it just fits. The fact that he stopped and spoke to the paparazzi and gave them this spiel about the bust-up makes me sick. Any man who does that is a sleazeball. Did you see Clooney stopping to talk to the paps about his breakup? I don't think so. Because Clooney has class, something Mayer clearly doesn't.


While he made it sound that it was him he ended the relationship, Jen's people said she came to the realization that it seemed he was tipping off the paparazzi as to where they'd be. The very private Aniston was not happy.

I understand that Mayer is a young music star and part of that gig is apparently to date a lot of stars and wannabe stars. But there is something about him that just smacks of egotism and smugness that make me want to smack him. I have the same feeling about Zack Braff, who,I contend, were he not a TV star, would be spending most Saturday nights either alone or with his parents. He's not that cute, sorry gals. Hey, I loved "Garden State," but he was mean to Mandy Moore and I like her, and not just for this.

I am just waiting for something to happen to humble Mayer just a little bit. He's not quite the savior of his generation he seems to portend to be and I would love to see him, just once, put in his place.

My advice to John Mayer (not that he asked for it) would be to grow up a little bit, stop taking yourself so damn seriously, develop some class and find some humility. You might have to dig pretty deep, but I bet you might find it in there somewhere.

Does The Fact That I Like To Bake Cupcakes Make Me Less Ambitious?

I have two very different personas. No, my nickname is not Sybil, I am quite normal actually. Well, mostly normal. All right, sort of normal.

Since I became a writer and have been appearing a few times week in print and on the Web, there is my writer persona who is the sometimes snarky, often ditzy pop culture fan who dishes about Madonna, Angelina and talks about the music you must hear. Then there is another side. The super-responsible mother of three who yes, bakes cupcakes (cookies too!) and, OMG! even knits.

There was a piece in the UK paper, The Guardian today about just this thing: "Do Feminists Make Cupcakes?" that got me thinking about this whole topic once again. Does being domestic make you less formidable professionally?

I feel like Carrie Bradshaw when I pose the question:Can you be super-successful AND be a girly girl who likes to bake, knit and take care of the people you love?

Certainly Martha Stewart has made millions bridging that gap between commerce and cake baking, but since she's making money making those cakes so I'm not sure that counts.

I am talking about those of us who are ambitious, hard-working and driven, but also have this kind of June Cleaver side and like doing things that might make us look like throwbacks to a different era.

The benefits of the feminist movement are vast and I'm very grateful for them. I love the fact that I can do and be anything I want to be. And I love that my daughter has even more doors open to her than I ever did.

But, all that said. I like having some of those doors held open for me, heavy things lifted and the ugly bugs removed -they don't have to be killed - just put elsewhere. I like knitting scarves (my knitting expertise is limited but sincere) and I make a pretty decent creme brulee. I often wonder how to meld these two diametrically opposed parts into one person who can do it all. I think it's possible, it's just going to take some juggling.

I have a fantasy (not THAT kind) about someday opening up a really cool cupcake shop. Maybe with my daughter. We'd make all sorts of delicious and pretty cupcakes and make people happy with our little pieces of sugary goodness.

Of course I still want to be a best-selling author.

I'm thinking maybe the best thing the feminist movement gave us is to be able to live in a time where I can have my writing career and bake my cupcakes too.

George Clooney Is Unavailable - In More Ways Than One

So everyone in the world knows that I've got a bit of a thing for George Clooney. Me and about 10 million other women.

I've long referred to him as my make-believe boyfriend, because in lots of ways, make believe boyfriends are far easier than real ones. And let's face it, the odds of him becoming my real one are slim to none. We don't exactly run in the same circles.

But then I had what I thought was inspired idea, a way I might actually get to have a conversation with Clooney - and I wouldn't have to dress up as a hotel maid or risk getting arrested to do it.

It suddenly occurred to me - hey, I'm a journalist! Stars give interviews to promote their movies, music and TV shows, why not track down the right people and try to get a phone interview with the him?! He has a new movie coming out on September 12, "Burn After Reading," of course he wants to get press for it. I know, he'll do "Letterman," "The Daily Show" and all the rest, but hey, I was offering the Cape Cod Times! How could he turn THAT down?

I bolstered myself up before I made some calls. I told myself, "You're no dilettante! You've interviewed Carly Simon, Ray Romano, Jack Klugman, Kathy Griffin and lots of other famous people! You can do this!"

This was good. This was working. I knew this was it.I was psyched. I was "Rocky" before the big fight. One of the ones he actually won. I planned what I'd ask him, how clever and witty I'd be. I decided he'd think I was so funny he'd want to see what else I'd written, and he'd think that a movie should be made from my book and he'd be the one to bring it to the big screen.

All right, so I got a little ahead of myself.

So I made my calls and got far enough that I was asked to e-mail someone named "Justin" a press request. My e-mail was wonderful. It was witty and smart, how could they possibly turn down this writer from a legitimate albeit small newspaper?

Days went by and I heard nothing. I checked my e-mail hoping to see Justin in my inbox (do not take anything dirty from that). So I sent a very light and fun follow-up. I even mentioned the very real possibility that Martha's Vineyard summer resident, Walter Cronkite would see this story and want to see Clooney's new movie. I was on fire.

And then it came.

I was denied.

One short e-mail brought things to an abrupt end: "Thanks so much for your interest, but George isn't available. Good luck to you though :)"

All those dreams. All those plans. And it all comes to an end at the hands of a guy named Justin; a guy who uses emodicans in business e-mails.

I Think Christie Brinkley May Be A Stepford Ex-Wife Time Four

I came across this New York magazine article written by Amy Larocca today and found it a little puzzling.

Somehow, I'm not sure why, I thought Brinkley had some real depth and intelligence. I admit I often make the mistake of thinking having the ability to make vast sums of money must mean you've got something going on in your head. But you know, maybe not so much.

In this piece, Larocca says that Brinkley almost never stops smiling and describes her, almost like a ventriloquist, able to talk and still smile. I think there's something a little creepy about that.

Certainly she's a beautiful woman, and at 54, incredible. But, I have to admit that anyone who's been married and divorced four times, well, you gotta kind of wonder.

The article describes Brinkley smiling enthusiastically about a guy rowing by her waterfront home, and she just sounded a little creepy as she waxed on - smiling of course - about how wonderful America is and how beautiful every single thing seems to be. Well it probably is when you're a multi-millionaire who owns 10 homes in the freaking Hamptons. Sorry, a tiny bit of envy just popped up. She's worked hard for what she has, I know, but why can't she be a little more real?

One of the first tenents you learn about writing in the first person is to be self-deprecating. I have no problem showing my flaws to my readers. - the problem is in choosing which one to show It just bothers me that someone like Brinkley, who just went through a very ugly and very public divorce can't divulge that hey, even when you're blond and have a megawatt smile life can be hard. Maybe it just makes the rest of us feel better about our own sorry lots to know that everyone has struggles, even supermodels.

Bottom line, I do have a certain admiration for Christie Brinkley. She's not afraid to fight for what she wants or believes in, has accomplished a great deal in her life, and she's done it all with a smile on her face. Albeit a big, toothy, kind of scary one.

Another Brush With Fame - My Chat With Marc Cohn

Yesterday morning I had the opportunity to interview Grammy winning singer/songwriter, Marc Cohn and it was wonderful.

I never know what to expect when I put a call into a celebrity. Most of the time I am very relieved that who ever is on the other end of the phone is just lovely to me. This is part of their job, and they know I am just doing mine. They are also very used to how to do this, they give me what I need for quotes, and if I'm lucky we hit it off and can joke around - Cohn was one such person.

There have only been a couple of times in the four years I've been interviewing celebrities where I was unhappy at the end of the call. And I will never tell who they were!

Yesterday's call, on the other hand, was one of the best.

Marc was funny, smart, humble and very in touch with what's important in life. Not surprising since he survived being shot in the head three years ago.

Cohn was on tour, playing in Denver on that fateful night. He and his band were headed back to their van after their show when a would-be car jacker shot Cohn in the left temple. Miraculously, he was released the next day and has no lasting physical effects.

He is married to ABC news anchor, Elizabeth Vargas, so as charming and delightful as I found him, damn it, he's taken! But, it's a little easier to swallow knowing that he's married to someone as wonderful as Vargas. In my research I read that the pair were introduced in 1999 at the U.S. Open by Andre Agassi. Reading this made me realize just how shallow my dating pool is - the way to meet a guy like Cohn is to be in a position yourself to be at an event with the likes of Andre Agassi. Somehow guys like Cohn don't show up in the regular haunts, like the town landfill and supermarket.

Cohn and Vargas have two young sons, 2 and 5-years old, and Cohn has a 13-year-old daughter and 17-year-old son from his first marriage. He talked a lot about how much he loves being a dad, and is never away from home for more than two weeks in a row.

So really, what I discovered talking to him is yeah, he's pretty much a perfect guy: He writes music, is an involved dad, is handsome, smart and funny. All in all, not a bad way to spend 45 minutes on a Thursday morning. Sometimes I just have to love my job.

I leave you with one of my favorite Marc Cohn songs.