A new kind of sadness

I flipped from "Carrie" on AMC to "Single in the City: South Beach". I deserve the horror I have found. In the first 10 minutes some woman "Jennifer, 23, fashion consultant" was raving about a guy she was cheating on her husband with, who then turned around and was avoiding her. She sounded not unlike Charles Manson on one of his rants. What scared me was that I could think of times I had been like that when boring the pants off of friends over useless guys that sucked, and vice versa. I wish I was a robot with gears and microchips not suited for emotion.

The final scene in "Carrie" was by far more sane than the aforementioned woman's running commentary on how she knew where he LIVED, she knew where he WORKED, she knew what his car looked like, no one puts one over on her, don't make her call his wife...yikes.

LATER: I only caught half of the episode, but was up late writing and saw the remainder. After discussing her affair with this man, when both of them had newborns (classy!), "Jennifer" then tries to woo back her obviously slightly retarded ex-husband. I mean, it sounds like she's describing a one night stand with a guy who fucked & fled her, and that's enough to get a divorce? Then she says her husband has "good genes" based soley on his apperance, says it's hard being single mom so she should probably stay with him, and then discusses getting breast implants with him over dinner. I wanted to abort her.

Fashion consultant clearly is code for part time at Forever 21. Nice. Oh, and she had 2 kids.