Sex and The City

I mentioned my new online journal called "Happy Endings" to someone, and they were happy to assure me that that term was all about something sexual. It seems like once something becomes about something sexual it eclipses all other meanings. This is kind of disappointing to me. It's not that I am against things that are sexual; I just am interested in other things as well, such as dreams and stories, injustice and diners.

What I think about all of this is that the reason for the prevalence of sex ingrained in everything is not because of such a great interest in sex, it's because of sexual repression. OK, I guess that's not such an interesting thought, after all. I'm sorry. Peanut butter, peanut butter, peanut butter, or sex. Those are my four choices.

This diary entry has nothing to do with Sex On The City. I was just wondering HOW MANY "blog" entries were titled that this summer. "This Ain't The Summer of Love." That's a Blue Oyster Cult song, which is followed by another song with virtually no gap. You know, those decisions (which have only to do with vinyl records and never with CDs) are decisions of the ages, of all time, equal in importance, at least, to something like, "You’re no Jack Kennedy."

Well, okay, how about this: Does anyone think it's weird that that Sarah Jessica Parker's character’s LAST name in "Sex Upon The City" is the same last name as her REAL LIFE boyfriend?