Sunday, January 14, 2007

dry toast and orange juice boxes

This will be the one and only time I ever mention “Sex and the City." Though a total cliché of the single young women in America, I must say the writers hit one thing on the head. As I lay in bed, drugged up, sniffling and dealing with a fever; I realize I agree with Samantha – this is the ONE time in my life where I wish I had a boyfriend.
I can live the rest of my days flirting and flitting around between various lovers, but when I am sick, I want a boyfriend to bring me orange juice, dry toast and the newest copy of the National Enquirer. I’m sure come tomorrow, when I am better and getting ready for a subway trip down to Chinatown for some purse shopping, I will regret my moment of weakness.
But until then, I’m forced to make my own dry toast.

- always yours, thesexyone

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