You knew this one was coming, people.  You had to; if you didn’t, you haven’t been reading my blogs, and you certainly didn’t read my Made of Honor blog.

I told a friend’s boyfriend about a month ago that this movie was to women what the opening of Phantom Menace was to men in 1999.  He said that that was ludicrous.  Had I waited 16 years between movies (in this case the series and the movie)?  No.  No, I hadn’t, but it’s still a HUGE occasion. Continue Reading

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Ok, I'm about to hand over my dude card and confess that I, she who loves beer, UFC, fishing, burping, and home depot, loved Sex In the City, the movie. Yes, it was predictable. Yes, it was the pure definition of chick flick. And yes, I would most definitely go see it again. Lucky for me, I am a female. Despite my otherwise manly indulgences, I have a ticket that excuses me from the ridicule of my fellow peers. Men, however, don't have it so easy.

My husband and I have been avid Sex in the City fans since the comfort stage of our relationship. You know the one, six months after the first sleep over when you no longer purposely match your underwear to earn "best girlfriend ever" points.

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