Please don't marry me!

I love weddings. As long as they're not mine. They are a jinx for me . I'm a much better date than wife. Trust me. As for attending weddings, I have a strict rule of thumb...never go unescorted. I made the hideous mistake of going alone once and ended up sitting by myself while everyone else was dancing. That sucked. I felt like crawling under the table or better yet out the door. So if an invitation isn't addressed to me "and guest" I ixnay the whole event. The nuptuals of little Jenna Bush brought my horrible memories to mind. Wow, Jenna's all grown up! And no, I don't know her, but I do want to personally thank her for not getting married in the White House. It would be bad timing with the economy tanking and the endless war in Iraq, wouldn't it? I imagine she would have had a lot of uninvited guests out front. She was wise to hide away in Crawford, Texas. I wonder if Cindy Sheehan was invited; at least she knows how to get there.

I didn't get an invitation, but apparently I can buy a souvenir cup. Nah. I'm excited that Dick Cheney might finally get to go somewhere fun. Is he still in hiding? I haven't seen hide nor hair of him in ages. Rumor has it Air Force ll has been spotted sitting in Jackson Hole Wyoming for quite a while. I can only assume the poor man's exhausted. Does he work? He is, none the less, quite a little money making machine. I hope Jenna or her dad toasts him for funneling so much cash into their "on" or "off" shore accounts since 2000. Maybe he bought Jenna's dress or paid for the whole shindig. Please someone ask him to dance.

And I am NOT sour grapes! I had nothing appropriate to wear and I chipped a tooth. I couldn't go with a temporary crown for God's sake. Besides, if I couldn't bring a guest I could be stuck sitting alone in the back not dancing. I can't wait to see pictures ... oh crap, they have F-16s circling over the ranch to keep the press away. Is that a gift from the taxpayers? I pray it isn't, as I have quite a dental bill in my future. Better than a wedding.

I feel better about my face, neck and finances!

I feel ten years younger! Is it better to "feel" or "look" younger? That's a really tough one isn't it? I picked "feel". I can't afford "look". I returned the skin care products that cost more than my rent! It would be ridiculous to be homeless with only a night time exfoliant, new age cellular skin repair cream, and eye rejuvenator to my name. Besides my brain was hurting from trying to figure out the mathematical possibilities to paying the huge Neiman's bill that would soon be in my sweaty,trembling hand. Should I pay it in full and see how long I could go hungry? No, I had dinner plans. I figured out installments in 10, 25, 50 and $100 increments and realized I might not live long enough to be out of debt. I toyed with going to my grave having an outstanding Neiman's balance but tragically, it would then be my son's only inheritance ... I'm a bad bad mother.

I want to personally thank my girlfriends who wrote/called and gave me the courage to march back to the make-up counter and "just say no". The eye cream did make my eyes burn, and the moisturizer turned my skin an odd shade of red, so I felt like I had a case for a refund. Guilt looms way too large in my life. It's a Jewish curse. I think God must have said to the Jews, "Go forth and feel guilty... oh and multiply, and of course, shop". (I hope that meant for shoes!) Well, there was no need for all my angst as the sales girls couldn't have been nicer and promptly printed my refund receipt. I felt the years melt away. I peeked in the mirror ....nope, the years were still there. Let's just say my spirit felt younger and I had more money. It took every ounce of strength to resist the shoe department which was calling to me from the 2nd floor. I stared up longingly and with tears in my eyes, but didn't go.

I didn't leave empty handed however. There is a trick ! A fool proof way to spare oneself the defeat of returns. To think I could have avoided days of buyer's remorse and boring my friends to death talking about moisturizer. Get samples! You can test drive the products. Mom, Queen of make-up counters from here to Manhattan, why didn't you tell me this? I came home toting tiny jars of skin creams, eye fluffers, and wrinkled neck miracles. A bag of "promise" was mine and it was free. I looked better already.

Mr. Big, Mr. Big !!

Does Carrie marry Mr. Big???? I confess I can't wait to know. And yes, I'm counting the days until the movie comes out. Knowing Carrie's future has usurped obsessing about my own. Fiction is so much more fun. I've put the countdown to the election on hold for the countdown to the movie. Oh God, I'm shallow. (Sorry Hillary and Barack, I'll get back to you). I say marry him. He's tall so she'd never have to wear flats . Although I admit, I couldn't really decide between Aiden and Mr. Big . That was a tough call. I know men who stopped watching after she dumped Aiden. Wow, some impressively sensitive guys out there. Sorry boys, I was sad but still addicted to the show. Hard to say what a woman's going to do isn't it? I loved Aiden, so cute and cuddly, but I admit the rich and powerful Big was oh so tempting. The "bad boy" vs the "nice guy"- one of romance's age old battles.

I think "nice guys" finish last and THEN first. "Bad boys" are a starter kit. They're elusive, roguish, and face it, damn sexy. They stare at you attentively one minute and poof! gone the next. " Hey where'd you go? I thought I was your girlfriend"! They don't have girlfriends, just an endless series of dates. I've been fooled on more than one occasion. I've naively assumed that if a man called me 5 times a day, took me out every night to some fab restaurant, and bought me presents, that after a couple of months of this lovely, flattering behavior he was my guy....and mine alone. I got him. I caught the "Mr. Big" fish no one else could reel in. Ha, ha, I'm an idiot because he's gone and I'm left wracking my brain, wondering what it was I said to offend him. Ok, at the time I didn't laugh. I wasn't different from the woman before me and yes, there will be a woman after me...no one gets this guy. Face it, if it wasn't for these men an entire section of Borders and Barnes & Noble would be empty. They're a cottage industry.

Enter: the "nice guy". Good guys of the world, this is your moment! Now you get the girl. Oh and don't get all pouty that you weren't picked first. Who cares! Put your ego on the back burner and say the one word you have in your arsenal that Mr. Big doesn't....COMMITMENT. So Carrie, if I were you, and call me a cock-eyed pessimist....have a back-up plan. I keep a storage locker.

I feel bad about my face.....and neck.

I just spent my entire 401K on skin care products. I can't decide whether to faint or hang myself. The most I ever paid for moisturizer to date was $7.99 and now in my possession are two jars of cream more costly than my rent. Who does this? Maybe Paris or Ivana but not someone who is too cheap to take the tollway. I've obviously lost my mind and... apartment. It was my sister's fault; she's the culprit. It really feels better to blame someone. She let me try her new wonder products, and threatened my life if I dropped one of the jars. The sales girl told her it takes just a tiny dab of cream and voila that dewy pre-menopausal complexion will return. So Mother Nature, it may cost me, but I'm getting revenge. I triumphantly dabbed and stared in the mirror. "Come on, come on, I don't have all day"! Crap, no dewiness but my skin felt nice.

"Nice" required a bank loan. I gasped as the woman behind the make-up counter at Neimans added up my bill. Oh God, and the banks are so stingy because of the mortgage crisis. I could strangle Alan Greenspan. I'd like to see the bills from his wife's plastic surgeon; I bet that money could have fed a third world country. Andrea, stop with the face-lifts, you're in the scary zone. I'm already afraid I might turn to stone looking at you. The girlfriends and I have determined face lifts don't make anyone look younger; they just make you look like you had a face lift. Btw Nora Ephron, "I hate my neck" too and ixnay to the turtleneck as a solution, no one looks good in them past the age of 55.

I've stuck my Neiman's charge card away in a drawer and put retirement on permanent hold. I have placed the jars of "miracle working" face and eye cream far, far away from the edge of the sink. (I think I would have to be hospitalized if one broke). I'm dutifully dabbing and of course staring. Sadly not much to report. I admit I have more than a twinge of buyer's remorse and think about my $7.99 moisturizer a lot.

One meatball

I can buy one thing. Or nothing. Nada. Zippo. My mother can't. She has never walked out of a store empty handed. Never. I've seen her get as far as the door without a purchase. "Go Mom, go, keep walking, don't look from side to side, don't look back, you're almost out ...." Oh no, a sale rack has caught her eye. She's turning around. "No! Don't touch anything. Put the blouse down". She's trying it on. Good, too small. Crap, she's buying it anyway. Is this a genetic malfunction? Is there a 12 step program or vaccine for Mom? She has closets filled with clothes she's never worn, only visited. My closet has 4 things depending on the season. I wonder if I was adopted.

My ex-husband had a similar genetic tick. I'd sit in the car and wait while he went into Target for toothpaste. Forty five minutes later, he'd return dragging three shopping carts filled to the top. He looked so proud of himself. Wow honey, nice shopping ...for things we don't need . Was it free? I would have felt better thinking he stole it all, at least that's an accomplishment. What was so freaking difficult about plucking one tube of toothpaste off the shelf, paying for it and leaving the store? Never happened. We were doomed.

My goal is to leave a store with nothing. Not even the item I went in for. Now that's a personal best . My sister and I have a special methodology we call , "drive by shopping". It's fast and cheap. With the rising price of gas I might have to cut back a little, but it's still less expensive than going in. And yes, I'm not very well dressed. (See paragraph one re: 4 things in my closet). I'm a firm believer in the one item at a time life style, which is why I can't go to the refrigerator for a snack unless I crave milk. Doritos and salsa sound so much better don't they? Obviously nobody wants to come over. I could use a 12 step program also I guess, although in my case it would be one .

Girls, Uncle Sam wants you!

The Marines want me! I just read they are desperately seeking "a few good women". Wow, I could stand a career change . I look good in blue, although I'd prefer black. It might, however, be time for a new color and uniform. Who should I call about this? Maybe Calvin Klein or Stella McCartney could design something tasty. "Join the Marines and if you survive you get to keep the clothes". I like it. It's tempting isn't it? I can hardly afford anything at Neimans anymore. Apparently, they are trying to appeal to female athletes, as they would be more likely to make it through boot camp with the boys. Kind of like boy/girl after school sports right? This really peaks my interest. I loved beating the boys. I hope there's ice skating as I'd whip everyone's ass in a race.

I'm a little concerned about the accommodations. I'm vehement about bedding. Oh and towels. I can't sleep on a thread count lower than 380 and must, must, must have a queen size bed. I'm assuming I can bring my own pillows. I take them on all my sleep-overs. I also insist on bath sheets, as I hate skimpy little towels after I shower. Whoops, I almost forgot, and this is a biggie, I won't share a bathroom. Who can stand someone in your way at the sink, or all their "stuff" around when you put on make-up? Besides it's my reading room/library, I need solitude. I am however, very excited about the prospect of a communal dining experience. I love good conversation at meals. I do hope there's a cocktail hour as it's such a nice way to relax and socialize at the end of a hectic day. Btw, I'm not a picky eater so you won't find me complaining about the food like some people. Just please no Mexican, Chinese, or Indian cuisine. And for that matter I never touch anything fried, or prepared in corn oil. I don't eat meat either.

Ok, ok, no one wants me, not even the Marines. If they want you however, don't go, even if you get to keep the clothes!

Hot Wheels

Danica Patrick, you rock girl! Sorry Hillary, I think Danica could be the first woman President. She certainly has drive. God that's a bad, bad, bad pun... I should be shot. At 26 she's the first woman to win an IndyCar race, defeating the two-time Indy 500 winner Helio Castroneves by nearly six seconds in the Indy Japan 300. I'm not sure we care about the details but she beat the big boys at their testosterone laden sport. Nice. So far Hillary's not even beating one boy. And did she do anything close to that impressive by age 26? She went to Yale law school and baked some very good cookies there according to an acquaintance of mine who tasted one. I'm really hungry, so at the moment cookies tempt me as an early accomplishment. At 23 Danica became the first woman to lead the Indianpolis 500 and then finished fourth. Condi, you're a political hopeful, can you drive over 220 miles an hour? I feel certain little Danica would get the male vote as she's a "hottie". I don't think Hillary or Condi or Kathleen Sebelius, the Governor of Kansas who the Democrats are all ga-ga over as Presidential potential, look as good in a bikini. Maybe who looks best in a bathing suit should supercede the super delegates. Let's not start with this election however, it would be too scary. I can't help but wonder who would win. And then I get a little nauseous.

I'm for Danica.