"Frailty, thy name is," as they say, and accordingly incredibly strong and otherwise sensible, practical, intelligent and independent women fall prey to the crazy.
My poor doctor roomie is fending off a bout of it as she awaits a formal proposal from her bf of three years, my bff experienced mine first hand this morning when he called to talk work at 8am and threatened to disrupt my plan for the morning to fit in a 5 miler. I was not having his complaints about his work as an assistant to one of my star stylists in the citAy and I basically bit his head off through the phone.
Woops.
Sorry.
But, I'll tell you something, I'm watching "Gone With the Wind" in hour long increments, and I'll be damned if it doesn't make me feel better to be finding out that Scarlett O'Hara - easily one of the most famous heroines of the last century - was a bat shit crazy bitch.
My thoughts on being a crazy bitch are that it's simply not the worst thing in the world and at least we're one for all and all one for all.
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