I demand an apology on behalf of the female gender

If you happen to be in the mood for a little "Well, at least I'm not like that" pick-me-up, look no further than yesterday's NYTimes piece on the latest group to be hit hard by our collective financial ruin: vapid materialistic whores banker's girlfriends. Apparently, when times are tough and the legalized prostitution well runs dry, these soulless harpies have nowhere to turn but their favorite $27 martini bar.

In addition to meeting once or twice weekly for brunch or drinks at a bar or restaurant, the group has a blog, billed as “free from the scrutiny of feminists,” that invites women to join “if your monthly Bergdorf’s allowance has been halved and bottle service has all but disappeared from your life.”

I have to hand it to Ravi Somaiya for writing the piece with what appears to be a straight face. Honestly, a couple of dick jokes or a Fritz Haber reference and this is Broken News.

Once you've successfully choked back the bile from the Times article, be sure to head over to the Dating a Banker Anonymous blog, where you can enjoy the metaphysical musings of fine citizens like Courtney, who when not trolling Battery Park gin joints for an AMEX with a penis attached, busies herself by ruining marriages.

Suddenly, I found myself being taken out less and less frequently. A recent argument went along these lines:

Me *pouting*: You haven’t taken me on a trip since we went to Bermuda in September. What’s going on?

Charles: Honey, finances are tight right now so my wife has taken it upon herself to check up on all of our accounts. She will notice any big expenditures.

Me *cute voice*: Wellllllllllllll, what are you going to do to make it up to me?

Charles: Can we talk later sweetheart? I’m really busy right now.

Me: No. Give me an answer NOW. Don’t you realize what you have? I’m way too hot to be treated like this. (Disclaimer: Yes, I come across as bratty here, but it typically works when trying to get something out of him)

Charles *yelling for the first time in our almost two-year relationship*: I’VE GOT TO FIRE TWENTY PEOPLE BY THE END OF THE WEEK. Z has four kids, X just had a baby girl, Y just sent his son to college and I’ve got to get rid of two of those guys… and you’re complaining about vacations and dinner? God, you are so 24! GROW UP!

Me *stunned*: Okie dokie, let’s talk later lover.

And the rockets' red glaaaaare...