I like to tell people that I am my own best contradiction. Nowhere is this more evident than in my taste of entertainment. I simply love some things that I shouldn’t love. Don’t believe me? Music: Escape I love the song, “Escape” (aka the Pina Colada song). Love it! I should hate it—and no, not
Kate: Why aren’t you taking Michael to the premiere? Sadie: We aren’t believable as a couple. Kate: But you are a couple. Sadie: Yes, but the public doesn’t like us as a couple. They haven’t bought into our love story. Kate: We’re still talking about your real life, and not the show, right? Sadie: Of
Facebook can often be a curse. There is no doubt about that. When you wake up on your way-over-25th birthday to see a friend recommendation of your ex’s new wife, you curse it. When you are approached by junior high school people who tell you that they never really liked you, you will at least
My stomach dropped. It’s the only way I can explain it. I read the email, and my stomach plummeted; not because it was bad news, but because an invitation had been issued by a very kind person, and I had a feeling I wouldn’t be avoiding it this time. Pen: “You have to go with
I’m on a quest to find a dress for my friend L’s wedding. The wedding is Saturday. I may be in trouble. It’s not that I procrastinated. I’ve gone shopping. However, in the back of my mind I felt secure in the knowledge that I had the perfect fallback option already in my closet. It’s
It was one of those late night conversations—you know the ones that start in the haze sometime after midnight, but before actual sleep. We were comfortable, talking close in hushed tones at the end of a long week. I remember snuggling in closer, his arms going tighter around me, as the night grew quieter and
I turned on the TV this morning (hello, old friend!), and there is an animated morning show playing. I was intrigued by the very “girl power” dialogue that was being bandied about, so I’m sitting here watching for a minute. Also, the remote is all the way across the room, and the effort to get
I’m not a strong conversationalist. As I’ve mentioned before, I’m particularly bad with strangers (by the way, I classify anyone who I have not known and spoken to every day for at least five years as a stranger). This leads to some fabulously awkward encounters, particularly when I’m a co-host of an event and trying
And now for some reader mail (and also questions randomly thrown at me by people I know, but who refuse to send these questions to my email). Why don’t you write more consistently? I’m lazy. Also, I’m not allowed to write about work (day job has a specific policy, and I choose not to write