I Can't Help Myself. I'm "Mad."

I CHOSE my dress and its color. I selected my jewelry (they didn't have pearl earrings to match the necklace) and chose my hair style. I even got to pick my nose. (Maybe "choose my nose" sounds better.) I did all this on the Mad Men Web site, where you can download your own self as a character. (That's Peggy's desk I'm standing in front of and Joan is in the background, but you can't see her here.)
I love "Mad Men," the show. Some of the people I dislike intensely. Don't even get me started on Peter Campbell. And I practically stop breathing when they're in a meeting and smoking their heads off.
So far they've had enough alcohol between them to empty the liquor store in our town.
Lately I've been watching reruns of earlier episodes being shown on Comcast's On Demand. So fascinating to watch Peggy do the Twist. And I don't think most have really experienced life until they've seen Joan Holloway do the cha cha.
Don Draper walked into his girlfriend's apartment and offered her a trip to Paris. She just had to get rid of her friends who were gathered there. She didn't do it, however, since they were already planning to get stoned and listen to Miles Davis.
Hmm. Would I give up a trip to Paris with Don? Now that's a conundrum - femminismo