Living through a Series

I'm not sure why. I'm not sure why I became addicted to the show. I'm not sure why I even bought the series and dedicated myself to watching them over and over again. I'm not sure why I bought the first book and read it or why I even decided to read the second. It wasn't like they would increase my vocabulary or enlighten an unlit bulb but whatever the reason and perhaps I know one, I L.O.V.E Sex and the City.

Sometimes I just want a book that I can I read in a day. Where I can sit on the balcony with a nice cup of Jo (the instant kind because its bad and easy), have the guinea pig sitting on my lap (the closest I will get to a lap dog) and unwind with nothing but the sound of girly chatter coming from the pages. And hence the reason I decided to read the Candace Bushnell's The Carrie Diaries Series.

The series (tv) always provided me with comfort. And even though I have watched them with friends, with the hubby, on my own while house cleaning, cooking, painting nails, studying, drinking and when completely depressed or blissfully happy - I always found something to ponder on. She (a.k.a Sex and the City) always new exactly what I needed to hear (or see).

She became a girls bestfriend when a human one was not around.

I haven't always had the greatest luck with friends. I think I smothered them too much. Perhaps I tried to hard to create the perfect concoction of truth, fun, similarity, dedication, the hard knocks, secret handshakes, midnight phones calls and a dash of forever and always. And picking up and moving doesn't help when absence may make the heart grow fonder but doesn't help when your bestfriend needs a midnight hug, a quick car ride to the shops, a lunch date and a hard slap when one is changing in a direction that can result in ugliness.

I still however crave it. The group of girls who know you better than you know yourself.