Caterwauling

“Sex and the City” is such a metaphor for my life, and now that the last episode has come and gone (beautifully, I might add), I just don’t know when I’ll ever see “Sex” again … in any incarnation.

I called it before the show started: we’ve waited six years to find out Mr. Big’s name, and we did find out. His name is John. It’s not what I was expecting, but then again, I don’t know what else it could have been.

The episode was a brilliant tribute to Sunday nights spent on the couch, finding ourselves in all of the characters. Shawn came over for the last hurrah — we’ve seen every episode of the season together at my place. It was perfect … our characters are where they belong, their lives are exactly on the track that they want them to be on, and we are left to dream about their possibilities.

Oh, yeah, I cried a lot at the end. But that’s to be expected. And forgiven. 🙂

Au revior, Carrie, Miranda, Charlotte and Samantha. It’s been a glorious six years. Now just hurry up and get the Season Six DVDs out!!! 🙂

Do NOT, under any circumstances, give yourself a French pedicure when you have cats. Especially a black cat. Because, even if you had just vacuumed an hour earlier, she will still manage to rub up against your feet while your polish is drying. And you will have little black clumps of fur sticking in the white polish.

< / public service announcement >

One thing I should never, ever do in my life is lie. And I normally don’t, but I told someone at work a whopper while I was holding evidence to the contrary in my hand. *lol*

I spent Friday afternoon by going to the AMC and watching “The Butterfly Effect” (which was actually very good and Ashton Kutcher didn’t annoy me too much — he was kind of hot, if I dare say so myself). Then I went to the print shop for a few hours and, finally, because it was around 6 p.m., I went into work to approve some invoices and check my messages.

Of course I run into the one person with whom I am continually annoyed because instead of doing the work I give him, he likes to lounge and chat and say how time-consuming my project is. He’s NEVER there that late. Leave it to me to pull my keys to my office out of my pocket, only for my ticket stub to hit the floor. He said, “At the movies?” And I said, “No. I wore these jeans before and didn’t wash them.” Lie. He said, “Umm hmm.” It was only when I sat down at my desk that I realized that the big cup of Diet Coke that I’d brought in from the movie theater did not have the Coke logo on it, but rather the big AMC logo emblazoned across it. Duh! Bad, bad liar. Oh well. I got a really good laugh out of it!