Stephanie Georgopulos

From Ricki Lake’s cringe worthy (but adorable!) street sass to Jenny Jones’ implant-obsessed panel of midwestern beauty pageant dropouts, I couldn’t get enough of Talk TV (much to my mothers’ chagrin).

The Chainsmoker is equal parts gross and impressive. They’re that person who lights their next cigarette with the cherry of their last one. They’re the person you don’t even bother asking, “Didn’t you just have one?”

I did some light research to paint what I believe to be as accurate a picture as we’re going to get regarding Carrie’s unkempt, irresponsible financial situation. For accuracy’s sake, this article refers specifically to Season 1 of the show, which took place in 1998.

New York is like a fucking college campus, down to catching your friend on her bi-weekly walk of shame while you’re on your way to work. You can hit it off with someone who seemed like they moved to New York specifically for you; just to be charming and interesting with a side of mind-blowing sex, but when you finally look them up on Facebook the reality is much bleaker than that.

If I were a teenager or young adult back then, I would’ve been like, “Oh, TLC? Yeah, they totally invented the condom eye patch. Rad girls.” But I was a kid, so I was more like, “WTF? What’s that neon green thing covering that one’s eye and where do I get one? What’s a condom?!”

My Self- Summary: I hate writing these things/I suck at describing myself/I am not at all good at this but here goes nothing… I’m an easygoing guy. I love a challenge/adventure/good movie. My friends say I’m ________. I’ll let you judge that for yourself, though. [Insert emoticon of choice.]

But back in the day, there wasn’t any of this “answer 1,000 nitpicky questions” and “linking to real-life-stuff in my dating profile, thus opening myself up to be Google’d at maximum” business. Online dating was like, get in chat and type “24/f/nyc.”