Dish Upon a Star

Posts Tagged ‘Sex and the City

Dishbrother and I fear that Meryl Streep’s The Iron Lady will be the new Mommie Dearest. The poster is just too much. I enjoyed Meryl’s Julia Child, but have the icky 6th sense her Thatcher will have us rolling in the aisles and not in a good way. Bon appetit! Scrub, Christina, scrub!!!

Day 3 of Ashgate: Demi and Ashton were caught celebrating Rosh Hashanah together today. That’s MADNESS! Ash’s alleged bed partner is allegly trying to make tons of money over the tryst. Did she CSI the “remains” of the lay? I wonder what Demi/Ashton are doing right now. Do they care what I’m doing? Dish is posted in front of a fan, hoping the dank heat in the apartment lifts. Oh hell, maybe it’s early menopause. Cut to Samantha from Sex and the City hurling her wig into the audience and wiping her boob sweat.

Speaking of boobs, the buzz is that Chris Christie might run for Prez. As a resident of New Jersey, Dishmama is, no doubt, fuming. But can we cut the fat jokes? David Letterman did a dull, offensive top 10 that probably incensed most of America.

Justin Theroux woke up to bologna on his motorcycle. There are so many jokes one could make.

The Big C finale has blown my mind with one of those “twists.” And just started watching one of 5 last episodes of All My Children. Seeing Angie and Jesse together made me sob like a jackass.

Yes, it’s the anniversary. I remember what I was doing: walking two miles to work, thinking what a beautiful day, maybe I would go back to teaching, was making copies at the copy machine when the receptionist told me what happened. I pulled out a box of Godiva and offered it around the office as we watched TV, then I walked home with a colleague and said, “This is our JFK.” Sat home for a week, watching TV and crying a little, grateful to be mourning alone, grateful to have life, health, family. Grateful to talk with Dishmama and Dishbrother, pissed that Dishfather didn’t call to see if I was alive, but when we did talk he mentioned it would be less tragic if I had died rather than someone with more at stake, like a child or someone with family–true to some degree but how sh*tty to say to one’s child. That day did make some things very clear–Yes, I knew who loved me and who didn’t care at all. But most of all, it no longer mattered to me that I wasn’t married with children like many of my friends. I had myself and that was all I needed. I didn’t lose anyone, I did see the devastation from my office window, and it makes me cry to see TV coverage, but I don’t have a big story about what I experienced. Today, I’m staying as quiet as I can, not updating FB with my thoughts and prayers, not watching TV, and not wanting to delve into this except to remember how much I do love myself (it sounds bad, but you know what I mean) and will do all I can to make my life as good as possible. Maybe it’s time for a Julia/QAF/Sex and the City marathon.

I’ve been reading and highly recommend Noelle Hancock’s My Year with Eleanor, a memoir about facing fear and the wisdom of Eleanor Roosevelt. Also, The Psychopath Test, by Jon Ronson, which provides info on the obvious topic, along with a checklist and evidence of psychopaths all around us–especially in finance. Now Dish knows for sure she’s dodged at least three psychopaths.

A sad loss: Cliff Robertson has passed away at 88. Blessings on his coming and going. And of course, blessings on those souls who left us ten years ago.