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There really is something so precious, exquisite and hothouse about Manhattan, isn't there? Thanks, Salon, for sharing the unique and truly unmistakeable modes of suffering of New Yorkers. One wonders how they manage to survive! "I knew he had to much Ambien when he bumped my Kristal, which spilled onto my Dior and dripped onto my Prada and down onto the Corinthian leather of my Maserati seats and down onto my Jimmy Choos. And KNOW how hard it is to get champagne out of Corinthian leather!)
Honey, as much as you want to go social climbing and as much as he has the cash to take you anywhere you want to go, you really do have to start hanging around with a better class of drunk. Believe me, sugar, there are more than a few unhappy River Oaks matrons such as yourself living with sloppy drunk (rich) Texas oilmen because they sold their snatch to the highest bidder with the biggest Gulfstream jet.
