I caught one of them demographics of "mean income of $114 mil per." They were standing at a light ... which meant another city another time. There were three prosperous bankers and a couple of guys who wait at Home Depot for odd jobbs.
My suspension of disbelief was o.k. with S.A.T.C. for the most part...but the fact that she worked at a WEEKLY newspaper? Every time that was mentioned my head would invariably just start to shake back and forth. "No."
Um. Don't ignore the fact that SATC dealt with Carrie's financial woes! Two words for you: Charlotte's ring. It's the reason why I hang around my wealthy puritanical divorced brunette friends while they go about their voluntary gallery jobs.
Okay, but um? Hamilton? You're not working at a magazine. You're working at the epicenter of the medium that is gleefully slobbering over the impending death of print.
Smithhimself's life IS quite glamorous. Long drunken lunches with writers that adore his salty wit, then staggering back to the office where sharp-as-a-whip Ivy League interns and junior editors have already done the heavy lifting.
Dinner tonight at the Waverly, more alcohol and then a town car ride home to his vast Manhattan apartment. Smithhimself's faithful cleaning lady has turned down the sheets. Ahhh, slumber. And sweet dreams....
This is nothing new. Magazine editorial work was NEVER been lucrative. So that novel/TV/movie fantasy has always been an inaccurate one - even before the current worldwide economic clusterphooey commenced.
@MisterHippity: Word. But I'm still kind of pissed off about everyone knowing this- without even the friendly jealousy and illusion of glamor, why on earth am I doing this?
When dear mum and daddy are paying for that $3,500 studio in the West Village and a lil' extra to cheer you up every now and again, that $25,000 editorial assistant salary is a nice little shopping bonus!
As opposed to the accurate depiction of computer programmers in Hollywood. I myself spend all my time uploading virii into alien mainframes to save the world from destruction.
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I didn't ask 'em anything though.
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Diamond Bailout!
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Dinner tonight at the Waverly, more alcohol and then a town car ride home to his vast Manhattan apartment. Smithhimself's faithful cleaning lady has turned down the sheets. Ahhh, slumber. And sweet dreams....
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