I Am Losing My Sh*t


I am 38 weeks pregnant and I am losing my sh*t. My cellulite laden arms and cottage cheese thighs are protruding SO WIDELY from my overly plump bosom and belly that I literally have to turn sideways to enter my apartment. And laying down? Forget about it. It takes me a full 3minutes just to roll onto my side, on the couch and inch myself up when the need to pee strikes suddenly, as it does, every fifteen minutes. (I am not even talking about my hips, which I am pretty sure will always be the size of an extra-wide shelf). From the beginning of my pregnancy I have made an effort to exercise and make healthy eating choices, and despite all these positive choices, I have still managed to end up–today–at 170lbs! A 45lb weight gain. 12 of those pounds amassed in the last 3 weeks. I could literally punch the editor of Fit Pregnancy magazine in the c*nt right now. Where is the f*cking fairness in this world? Meanwhile, every other pregnant woman eats donuts and cake and tells me, “can you believe I lost a pound since my last weigh-in?”

Pass me a mother-loving box of Pop-Tarts!

And what’s worse–this baby is showing no signs of budging. I had my first internal exam today, fully expecting to hear that I was on the brink of going into labor only to learn that I’m not even 1cm dilated. “Everything still feels firm” my doctor said as she removed her entire arm from my hoo-ha. Never in my life have I felt more like the rhinoceros from Ace Venture Pet Detective. Just like that it hit me: I will be pregnant forever. This baby and I will continue to grow at a rate of 4lbs a week until she inevitably sheds me like a snake sheds a skin, and emerges as a fully formed teenager.

That is when the palpitations began and the panic set in.

After 6 months of living in Zika exile, totally isolated from my husband, family and friends, it is safe to say I am cracking. All I want to do is have this baby and go the f*ck home. I have been walking up stairs, squatting down low to pick things up and bouncing on a freaking yoga ball for half an hour a day hoping that today–August 3rd–the day before my birthday, I would finally go into labor. And all for what? What bloody good did any of it do? I’m still 15lbs over the healthy weight-gain recommendation for pregnant women, which means I will never F*ing losing this baby weight. Well and good for someone who wasn’t swimming 100 laps a day and walking 2 hours every afternoon for her entire pregnancy–but not good enough for me. Not good enough for me, who literally killed myself NOT to gain more than 30lbs.

And don’t you even tell me to have sex to start labor! I am f*cking humpty dumpty over here. Do you honestly believe I haven’t tried having sex? I cannot even reach my hoo-ha. I cannot turn or bend or lay down comfortably. I cannot go 15minutes without almost urinating all over myself. And thanks to a miscommunication with a hairdresser, my hair has been chopped short and curly so I can’t even try to hide my bulbousness under hair that never really got that pregnant shine in the first place.

Still I tried, and after several attempts at sex, and much threat of death, I have abandoned the idea that I will ever successfully have sex again. Anyhow, sex is the reason I’m in this mother-loving situation in the first place–so keep your “just have sex” comments to your mother-loving-self.

Yes, I am very grateful that I can even be pregnant. I recognize that I am lucky and that my baby is healthy and that pregnancy is 40 weeks so I should just suck it up and gain another 10lbs in the next 2 weeks, but f*ck it. I am only human and right now I feel like a Mac truck with a two ton load who’s being told I need to learn to drive on water. I am drowning in this pregnancy, and I am at my bloody wits end!!!!

Tomorrow is my birthday. I told my husband that all I want is for him to get a vasectomy. I have never wanted anything more in my whole life.


Pregnancy Survival: What You Really Need!

Hello Friends, I am writing to you from the surface of the sun (South Florida) during the depths of my third trimester. It is an understatement to say my every waking (and sleeping) hour is a challenge of survival, between the constant heart burn, leg cramps and incessant need to pee. However, as with everything in life, I have approached this as a learning experience. I can happily report that my research in this area has produced positive dividends for those of you who are seeking ways to make pregnancy a little more bearable.


So without further ado, (because if you are pregnant in the summer like I am, you have suffered enough) I give you…

Amanda Hanna’s Guide to Surviving Pregnancy:

1.Get yourself a Snoogle! I cannot say enough about how this pregnancy pillow has saved my life. It’s so amazing I got two–one for me and one for my husband. (It’s not like we can cuddle while we snoogle, so why not let his back get some support too?) I have stripped my bed of everything save a fitted sheet and my snoogle. A light blanket is nearby in case my husband gets cold at night. I sleep in next to nothing, in full on AC and underneath a ceiling fan, sweating half to death, yet comfortably tucked away to dreamland. It is my only hope of truly restful sleep, in between waking up to pee every half hour for eight hours straight. Trust me! This is a MUST HAVE item.

2.Wacoal One Size Fits Most Panties:  Just because your ass is growing faster than the national debt, doesn’t mean you have a bunch of money to throw away on new underwear every month. Get yourself a set of these stretchy, comfy, amazing panties and you will never go back to the Cooch-Mooching Victoria’s Secret crap ever again. I only wear these panties these days and half the time I forget I’m wearing underwear at all. It’s that comfortable! In fact, this is something I will continue to buy in my post-preggo life.

3. Jessica Simpson Maternity Jeans: Name a day of the week and I’m wearing these babies. I bought one pair of these jeans for around $50 back in February and they have served me well through 20+ pounds of weight gain. I have two months to go to my due date and I predict these jeans will see me through to the end. They are both slimming and comfortable. The elastic waste gives my belly support and also allows me to tuck my Belly Buds in tightly so my baby can enjoy her music while I enjoy walking the Mall.

4.TUMS: How would I live without my midnight snack? They say the more heartburn you have, the more hair your baby will have when she’s born. Well, I’m giving birth to Repunzel. I am not a fan of taking medicine while pregnant, so instead of the stronger ant-acids, I rely on a steady combination of TUMS and milk (about a gallon every 3 days) to keep me from literally breathing fire.

5.Vitamin E Oil & Palmers Cocoa Butter: As a girl who went to bed one night skinny as a rail and woke up the next morning with a hefty pair of boobs and hips, I am no stranger to the stretch mark. That’s why I took a very liberal approach to skin care from Day Zero of this pregnancy and I’m happy to report (as far as I can see) I am new-stretch-mark-free! Twice a day (or more if you’re in a particularly dry climate) has seemed to be doing the trick. Vitmain E oil is also great for your lady bits to help prevent tears during labor. (I will have to get back to you on if this works later on).

So there you have it, my tips and tricks for surviving pregnancy. If you have any tips and tricks of your own, feel free to leave them in the comments below. Happy Gestating Preggos!

And of course, before you bounce please BUY A BOOK. I have several for sale at the moment: DATING FOR DINNER, THE NEW YORK CATCH, NEW YORK SOCIALITE, NEW NEW YORK (OR ALL 3-IN-1 NEW YORK SERIES), RED ROCK CAFE & MIDLIFE WIFE.

Never Let Your Husband Know He Is Right


Since I began dating my husband over seven years ago, when we have fallen into disagreement, I have always ended up being right. Not like you have ‘always been right’ meaning you are right more times than not–I have literally ALWAYS been right. When it comes to where to live or what to eat or what to buy or who to trust, every single solitary time, I have been right and my husband has been wrong.

You can chalk it up to my being older than him. Maybe the credit is owed to me living away from home, on my own, since a week after I turned 17. Or maybe it’s because I’m just smarter in general. Who can say? The fact of the matter is, when it comes to a fork in the road, I consistently choose the right path and he consistently disagrees. Luckily (for him), after being wrong so many times early in our relationship, Matthew now accepts the fact that I am always right and does not persist in challenging me anymore.

That is until we entered 2016–the year that everything has gotten flipped upside down and damn near dunked in caramel-colored horse manure!

Since the beginning of the year, my husband has been right not once, but twice.

The first time this miracle occurred was during a dispute over my car. Two years ago I got a brand new car that I 100% loved to drive. It was small enough for me to feel confident driving, yet big enough to let the other cars on the road know not to try to run me over. It was incapable of going fast (which I prefer since sometimes I step too hard on the gas and scare myself) and received very high safety ratings. On more than one occasion I declared that for the rest of my life I would never own another vehicle.

The argument first began when we found out we were pregnant. My husband took a look at the practically nonexistent trunk space and declared there was not enough room for the baby. I looked at him like he was mad. My parents owned a two-door hatch back when I was born and managed with me just fine. Why couldn’t we have a baby in a compact SUV, I wanted to know.

My husband and I bickered on and off about the size of my trunk and the practicality of having a baby in such a ‘small’ car for months, until the day I found the perfect stroller. I called Matt to tell him about it and after gushing on and on about the fact that it was the ONLY stroller I could get to close without the help of a salesperson, Matt asked me how big it was.

“You realize that stroller cannot fit in your trunk, right?”

With those words, the whole world changed. It morphed into a puddle of sheer fun-house mirrored madness. For the first time in the history of the world, Matthew was right and I was wrong.

Initially I tried to dispute the facts, but it was useless. Regular people cannot argue with numbers, much less a person like me who still counts on her fingers. I decided to be the bigger man and congratulate my husband on his achievement. He was right. I was wrong. It was a hard bullet to bite after my nearly seven and a half year streak, but I guess the day had to come eventually. I was confident that lightening would not strike twice.

Until it did just a month later. From the day I got pregnant, I knew I was having a boy. I felt it deep in my bones. When I was hungry, I wanted steak–the bloodier the better. I experienced very little nausea and absolutely no morning sickness in my first trimester. The (almost indecipherable) bump I had until week 18, was very low. The internet and I were in total agreement, I was having a boy. The only one who disagreed was my husband, who swore that I was having a girl. He had no internet research to support his claim, but in his lifelong tradition of being wrong and strong, he insisted that he just ‘knew it’.

Low and behold, the lightning struck twice! We are having a girl. It doesn’t make any sense to me (or the many online quizzes I took), but that is the case. Matthew was right not just once, but twice.

I don’t have to tell you the problems I’ve had with him since that day. Now, with every dispute, I am challenged with the phrase: “Just like you were right about the car and the baby?” You would think the man was a broken record. How is it possible to think being right TWO TIMES IN YOUR LIFE overrules the millions of times you have been wrong? It is unfathomable. Perhaps if the times did not occur so close together he wouldn’t feel as emboldened, but I cannot help but regret ever giving him the credit. Maybe it is because I am an extremely fair person. Maybe it is because I felt happy for him to be right–at last–after years of failure. Maybe it is because I am a fool! All I know is, life was much more peaceful when I was right and he was wrong.

The moral of the story is kids–never let your husband know that he was right. No good can possibly come of it.


I’ve Hit The Pregnancy Wall (Yes, Already!)


I am writing this from my apartment in Miami, where I am currently in hiding. My arms are stretched uncomfortably over my keyboard as I prop it just below my round belly. As I type, my arm fat jiggles rather disconcertingly against my massive boobs. After I passed week 22 of my pregnancy, I went from ‘not really looking pregnant’ to ‘strangers asking me when I’m due’. That’s right, I’ve exploded. At night I feel the ligaments stretching and each morning it becomes harder and harder to tie my shoes, until this morning when I finally gave up and had to cross my leg to reach my laces.

I will be 24 weeks pregnant on Monday. Meaning….I will still have 15 slow, hot weeks to go.

My doctor informed me yesterday that I’ve amassed a whopping 8lbs in 4 short weeks. “This is it,” she regaled me happily, “you’re gonna really start to put on the pounds now.”

Meanwhile in the rest of Miami, beautiful pregnant women roam malls, drive cars, and take pilates classes without batting a coiffed, false eyelash. Beautiful, shiny-haired, manicured, glowing pregnant women! Women who (despite being with child) somehow find the energy each morning to blow-dry their hair, do their make-up and choose flattering outfits that complement their high heeled shoes. I took my husband to a sleep training class and he spent the entire class staring at the pregnant Sophia Vergara look-a-likes around me. He says he’s never seen so many beautiful women in one place before–and all of them knocked-up.

Just for reference, I am the ugliest pregnant person in South Florida. My hair has remained unchanged from my pre-preggo state. My skin has continued to look dull and blotchy. My nails are probably in the worst state they’ve ever been in because I cannot find a good manicurist in walking distance. (I paid $50 at a salon for a mani-pedi to come out with nails the color of fungus). While others craft chic maternity looks accenting their bumps, I shuffle across the Earth in Old Navy t-shirts and the bell-bottom maternity pants I (accidentally) bought on sale from Motherhood Maternity, that only make me look more short and squat. (Why bother waste money on cute outfit when I spend 95% of my day alone hiding in the apartment?)

For the first time ever, the way I look in clothing is only surpassed by how terrible I look naked. I have to close my eyes against the cellulite that is threatening to burst free from the backs of my thighs. My legs that were once toned buckle with fat pockets. Same goes for my hips and arms. (I am almost driven to tears when I think that only six months ago I was running upwards of 20miles a week training for a marathon, and now I cannot walk Dadeland Mall without becoming breathless). My boobs have gotten so big that some nights I sleep in a bra, even though the underwire kills me. (When I don’t sleep in a bra, the fear of suffocation kills me).

My husband keeps asking me if I’m okay when I’m talking. He asks me this because I constantly sound as if I just ran up a flight of stairs. I didn’t run up a flight of stairs. That’s just how I breath now. Talking is like running up stairs.

My doctor says that she will not help me in any way to go into labor early. Not even at 38 weeks. Not even at 39 weeks. Possibly not even if my due date goes and comes. I asked her if my fetus is paying her. She laughed. She thinks I’m funny. Nobody sees my suffering.

I cannot believe I have hit this pregnancy wall so soon. How in the world am I going to make it until August? How in the world is my skin not going to explode by then? How in the world will my body EVER recover???

Okay, that’s enough typing. Time to go take a nap on the toilet so I’m not interrupted every fifteen minutes by the need to pee.


Things To Opt-Out of During Pregnancy


Is it just me or was pregnancy less demanding in the 90’s? I don’t recall my older cousins having to jump through all these Pinteresty-hoops in order to create people out of food, but for some reason I am now expected to celebrate every aspect of my pregnancy with more than a slice of pizza and some mini-Tollhouse cookies. I am expected to approach each phase of this glorious experience, like some angelic creature emerging from a crystal stream.

Pregnancy, if the Internet is to be believed, has evolved into an experience  that seems incomplete without a series of events–events that require buckets of time and money. It seems impossible to bear a child nowadays without pausing to rejoice in the following phases. Though this may be fact, I am choosing to opt-out of these events on the basis of my finding them utterly (or at least partially) ridiculous.

So without further ado I give you:

Amanda Hanna’s Things to Opt-Out of During Pregnancy

1. The Pregnancy Reveal Video. Long gone are the days when you could just tell people you are with child. Simply telling people does not elicit tangible dividends in the way that, say, YouTube likes always do. Who wants to hear you are pregnant when they can watch some semi-professionally produced movie about how a lonely sperm once found happiness with a time-sensistive egg in the warm tropical climate of a seldom visited uterus?

As idyllic as all that may seem, I am not a cinematographer and therefore do not possess the necessary skills to set that fairly tale into motion. I will say that my pregnancy was facilitated with the ample help of a boutique Napa Valley wine procured on my honeymoon, but that’s about as far as that story goes–and none of it was illustrated with talking cartoon fruit or bobble heads.

2. The Gender Reveal Party. Is it a girl? Is it a boy? Is it both? The questions are endless and I will admit that I heartily looked forward to finding out what I was having. Since my husband and I only plan to have the one child, we would’ve been excited for either, but once we found out that was it–we did not hire a team of people to spread the news. We spread the news ourselves in our own boring way.

I announced the good news to my family and friends on Facebook with the very complex and witty statement: We are having…a girl! Matt took a somewhat more visual approach and posted a photo of our babies ultra sound profile with the same caption on the only social media account he uses: Instagram. Remarkably for our day-and-age, both announcements were managed without the help of balloons, a specialty over-priced cake, glitter of any kind and the attendance of a catering staff. We are having a girl. Gender revealed! (See how I did that?)

3. The Maternity Photoshoot. There she is, the Botacelli-esque hair, the flowing silk robe, the wreath of wild flowers in her hair. A manicured hand rests a-top a swollen pregnant belly, tenderly. Her eyes are to the Heavens, her feet are in the sand. Her bowels are pungently flatulent! Isn’t pregnancy grand and shouldn’t all pregnant women spend their days half-naked in a field of wild flowers contemplating mother Earth?

Perhaps some pregnant women….but certainly not THIS one.

4. The Active Labor Photo-Shoot. This is it, the moment we have all been waiting for. The shattering of the Va-jay-jay! It has taken months for this tiny creature to gain enough mass to virtually destroy that which you have spent your life kegel-ing to keep taught. There will be pain. There will be joy. There may or may not be threats of divorce and dismemberment…but by golly, let’s all encapsulate this moment with a stranger taking up-close-and-personal photos with a super sensitive HD lens. Especially when I’ll be naked, morbidly obese, blotchy faced and leaking various fluids from every possible orifice. That’s what art is about, after all!

I don’t know about you, but I am pretty sure I am going to spend every minute of my labor trying to forget everything I heard, saw and felt. There is no need for me to immortalize the event in a semi-gloss Shutterfly album.

5. The Newborn Photo-Shoot. Finally, after all that hard work, she is here. Only two days old, fresh off my traumatic birthing experience, I will invite a professional (probably the same photographer who suffered though my birth) to pose my tiny newborn in adorable knitted outfits so we can forever remember what she looked like as a baby carrot. Or a baby sunflower. Or a baby in a tea kettle.

It’ll be great. She totally won’t sh*t and puke all over everything. Newborns don’t do that. (And if she does….I can help clean up. It’s not like I’ll be tired or anything after laboring for 36 hours then morphing into a moo-cow every two hours to keep the darling girl alive and fed. No problem!) Better to spend my days seeing how my unvaccinated newborn will do in a ladybug outfit that a hundred other unvaccinated newborns have worn, shat on and puked on in the last year or so. Isn’t she precious?

And oh yeah….it’s not like a Bachelor’s Degree isn’t going to cost half a million dollars in the next eighteen years. Better I spend a thousand dollars on this sh*t!



Sleepless in Miami


It’s 10PM and I have to go to bed. Not because I’m tired, mind you. Tired has nothing to do with my need. I could literally stay up past midnight hanging out with my Dad or my husband (whomever is babysitting me during my pregnancy in exile), but unfortunately I can’t. You see, I am a hostage and sleep is my captor.

No matter what, at 3:23AM my eyes open like clockwork and refuse to close until 6:00AM. Am I tired? Of course. By this point I have been soundly asleep for a few hours and my body is just starting to unwind. But then….I have to pee. I get up reluctantly and trudge to the bathroom, careful not to look at my phone or turn on a light. My every intention is to fall right back to sleep–except I don’t. I try very hard, but still I don’t. I lay on my right side, but for some reason that doesn’t feel good. Then I lay on my left side, but then my arm falls asleep and I have to move. Suddenly, I feel very hot so I kick off all the covers. A few minutes later, I feel very cold, and have to get out of bed to remake the covers just the way I like it. After all this up and down, I begin to lose all hope of going back to sleep, so I start reading BBC on my phone. This goes on for between fifteen to thirty minutes before my stomach realizes I’m awake and starts demanding food.

So then I get up and eat a bowl of cereal. It’s quick and easy, ideal for a 4:00AM snack. I try not to wake up everyone in the apartment, so I sit cross-legged on the dinning room chair eating cereal in the dark. Alone. I think momentarily about eating another bowl of cereal before remembering that I’ve gained 15lbs ALREADY and I’m not even half way through my pregnancy. I wash my bowl and spoon, then trudge back to my bed, which only feel more uncomfortable by the hour.

Once I lay down, I think about going to the gym. It’s still dark outside, but maybe I need to get an early start. I think about all the #fitpregnancy hashtags on Instagram and how I am totally going to do more than just walking on the treadmill tomorrow. I might even last longer than 30 minutes. Maybe today is the day that my energy will kick back in! I will probably have the gym to myself if I go right now and then I can have more time in the day to do everything I have to do. Of course, I’m in exile so my list of things to do mostly consist of ‘going to the gym’ and ‘reading’ and ‘running errands at Target’. Why would I want to eliminate one whole thing off of that extremely short list this early in the morning? My gumption lags. I finally drift off to sleep…and then wake up…and then drift off to sleep….then wake up….every fifteen minutes like I’m waiting for something to happen.

By the time the sun comes up I’m exhausted. I nap on and off for an hour or two, before finally crawling out of bed at 8:00AM and starting my day. The baby starts jumping in my back and I know there will be no more napping for now.



US Presidential Candidates in List Form


In US politics, I find it is sometimes better to ignore candidates personalities and the media sound bites in favor of focusing on the issues that are most important to me. For that reason, I like to examine the blind facts in a simple list form, gathered from the candidate’s websites.  This helps me to clarify my thoughts.

At this point in the race for the White House, I believe there are only 4 viable candidates for President based on the polling. I am sharing this info below to save you some time.

For more info, go to the candidates websites. Like I mentioned, these are the issues most important to me. There is more info on issues that may be important to you at the source.

Candidate A:

Plan for US Military: Increase size. Get involved in more international issues. Believes America should make decisions for other nations and resume role as world leader.

Second Amendment: No amendments. Guns for all, no questions asked.

Immigration: Against amnesty. Build wall to clarify boarders and enforce boarder security. Increase deportations. Stop sanctuary cities.

Economy: Disband IRS. Implement a flat tax of 10% of income for households earning more than $30,000/year. 15% tax for corporations. Households under $30,000 pay no tax. Plans to approve keystone pipeline and create jobs in the alternative energy sector. Stabilize US dollar.

Approach to Small Businesses: Deregulate so small businesses are able to expand and create more jobs by throwing out Obamacare and similar programs.

Social Issues: Pro-Life. Anti-gay marriage. Believes rights don’t come from government, they come from God. (Direct quote from website).

Candidate B:

Plan for US Military: No change. Keep military as is.

Second Amendment: Does not say, but I believe he is pro-gun.

Immigration: Modernize boarder and protect boarder communities. Integrate illegal immigrants into communities and allow them to buy health insurance. Bring those who have been deported back to the US to be reunited with their families. Create a path for legalization of illegal immigrants (possibly citizenship). Pro-Amnesty. Pro-Sanctuary Cities. Stop deportation of illegal immigrants. Increase minimum wage.

Economy: Self-proclaimed socialist. Pro distribution of wealth. Increase taxes for corporations. Prevent corporations from taking money outside the US. Increase tax on wealthy individuals especially on inheritance amounts over $3.5 million. Create jobs by expanding government. Reverse trade policies that make it cheaper from companies to manufacture outside the US. Invest in youth job creation programs. Provide free college educations. Guarantee healthcare as a right of citizenship. Requiring employers to give 12 weeks of paid family leave. Pro Union. Break up huge financial institutions so they cannot fail. Strengthen and expand social security.

Approach to Small Businesses: Based on the above info I’m going to say anti-small business. No small business can afford to pay increased wages, 12 weeks of paid family leave and health insurance. No new business will be created. The economy will literally die. (This is my opinion–not stated on the website).

Social Issues: Believes in maternity and paternity leave, sick leave, extended vacation for all workers. No comment on abortion rights or gay marriage.

Candidate C

Plan for US Military: Expand Military. Make the US a world leader through military strength. Get more involved in global issues.

Second Amendment: Pro-Gun. No change to amendment.

Immigration: Build a wall to keep illegal immigrants out. Pro deportation. Anti-amnesty.

Economy: Place tax restrictions and tariffs on goods coming into the US from China, Mexico, etc. to encourage corporations to move jobs back into the US. Decrease taxes across the board for individuals and corporations. Repeal and replace Affordable Care Act. Open the health insurance market place so companies like Amazon can start to sell health insurance, and thereby driving the cost of health insurance down for the individual (like car insurance).

Approach to Small Businesses: Remove the crippling bureaucracy that has stifled small business growth.

Social Issues: Does not plan to challenge gay-marriage or abortion. Not interested in changing social issues.

Candidate D

Plan for US Military: Increase technology for military. Take a more active role in global issues.

Second Amendment: Reform amendement. Put protections in place so people cannot buy a gun as easily as they buy a pack of gum.

Immigration: Pro immigration reform with path to citizenship. Pro-Amnesty. Against tearing families apart with inhumane deportation.

Economy: Raise minimum wage. Increase tax corporations. Cut taxes for middle class.

Approach to Small Businesses: Cut red tape so small businesses can grow. Cut taxes and simplify tax filing process. Favor female minority-owned business by providing them more access to financing.

Social Issues: Pro-Choice. Pro gay Marriage. Pro union. Strengthen social security and medicare. Pro-women and minority programs. Reform college tuition and loans somehow (not saying college will be free, but more affordable).

Answer Key:

Candidate A–Ted Cruz

Candidate B–Bernie Sanders

Candidate C–Donald Trump

Candidate D–Hillary Clinton

Before you go, check on my awesome, funny novels on Amazon.com: DATING FOR DINNER, NEW YORK CATCH, NEW YORK SOCIALITE, NEW NEW YORK, (THE NEW YORK SERIES 3-IN-1) RED ROCK CAFE, MIDLIFE WIFE. 


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