I might be one of the only ones who hasn't seen the new Sex in the City. Somehow I'm just over it, maybe it's cause I'm mad that Ms. Parker is getting involved with Halston which just seems blasphemous to me. Anyways here's a vintage LaLaLa on the little bit of Carrie in this Lady!Ladyfag's Little LALALA'S # 52
Being in nightlife has the advantage of not having to wait in line to do lines in the bathroom. I do however have to wait when my promiscuous peers are having sex in the stalls....I of course am above such lewdness...cough cough! Welcome to my life better known as "Sex... in the Shitty". Many a New York dwelling dame would like to fancy herself a character on "Sex in the City" and as I sit here once again like Ms. Bradshaw typing away on my macbook I can't help but consider the comparison. I am a single, nearing middle age woman living in New York City, I write a weekly column, I sometimes starve to have the perfect dress, and shoes are my strongest weakness. My mother attributes my fondness for horses to the fact that my face is as long as one and I find myself giving "My Little Parker Pony" to whom some think I resemble, a run for her money. Coincedentaly her
fake name is very similar to my real one....but the parallel ends there. I spent many enjoyable years watching Carrie and her posse of gal pals busily trying to find the perfect man, having sex along the way, and then sitting in fancy restaurants discussing it all over cosmos. I on the other hand spend my time having perfectly good sex in bathrooms, hopefully some of them are men along the way, and then leaving them to go with my girlfriends who happen to have dicks, and drink anything but cosmos....HBO isn't exactly banging down my door. It's fairly safe to say that most of my friends while being born as men have had a moment gazing in the mirror and picturing themselves as women. It's also more than safe to say that they would picture themselves as Samantha Jones. While half of the world shook their head in disgust, and the other half raise their pseudo Steinem flags in the air. My world consists of gaggles of Catrell's living out her role in real life. When sitting in the meat packing over brunch cocktails and lamenting the areas loss of drag queens to Alexander Mcqueen, I blurted out "No smoking in bars?....what's next, no fucking in bars!?"...oh wait, that was Samantha, not me... the line between tv and reality just got smaller than the line in my opening line about lines. The four of them stuck together as outsiders in a world full of NY women all getting married and starting families. I felt their embaressment and sympathized with their discomfort as they sat through wedding announcements and baby showers. Through their tears and laughter, it warmed me as they found strength in each other and embraced not being their mother's ideal of what a women should be....
I am different still. While I could try and search for the similarities between Charlotte and Miranda in my friends Drew and
Macky. In reality I only have a few girls with whom to discuss bikini line practices with. Carrie has her upper East Side brownstone, and I'm quite content with my converted mortuary loft space in Brooklyn. Her Westwood wedding gown can only be worn once, while my Westwood boots will sashay me through daily life. She has her "Mr. Big", and I have my mr. big dildo. But the truth is at the very core of this big apple and the women who live in it, there is something fundamentally that is the same. Like them I live lustfully while searching for love in between searching for labels on sale racks. Sitcoms, like life, only have so many episodes. So don't get it mistaken, I too am looking for the right one, it's just that in the meantime I might as well have the right now... aren't we all just longing for some sort of "Happy Ending".
Besos Y Brujas,