Heather Poole

Okay now that I’ve got your attention… I am, or shall I say was, a humongous fan of the show Sex and the City. HUGE. Seriously huge. I have such fond memories of hanging out in the Archie Bunker like crashpad/house in Queens with at least two or three of my eight flight attendant roommates (depending on who had to work that night), sitting on a beat up couch in front of the TV for a fun filled, too short, half hour. Depressed when it came to an end. Counting the minutes until the next episode. I have yet to find a show to fill Sex and the City’s Manolo Blahnik’s. I’ve tried Desperate Housewives, Lipstick Jungle and Cashmere Mafia, and while I did make it through the first season of Desperate Housewives, I just couldn’t go back to Wisteria Lane. And I was unable to make it through an entire episode of the other two shows mentioned above. I tried. I really tried. But I just couldn’t relate to those women the way I did to the women of Sex and the City. Sure I’ve grown up. I got married. Bought a house. Got a Mortgage. A cat. A car. Had a kid. Yet I miss my Sex and the City. I can’t wait for the movie to come out. I really need to know what the hell has happened to Carrie, Charlotte, Miranda, and Samantha! What YOU might like to know is tonight I had one of the girls on my flight. It was the actress who plays the character I probably relate the most to. I didn’t speak to her. I barely even looked at her. I mean I didn’t want to freak her out or anything. And no, I’m not naming names, but I will tell you that she looked exactly the way she does on TV. Which is good. And her traveling companion looked pretty darn good, too.