The New York Times gave these women wet dreams by publishing an article about how tough the economy has been on them. Bear in mind, these women are late twenty-something upper-middle class manhattanites.
The issue? The rough waters of the economy have finally begun rocking their weekend sailboats. Their situation is so dire that they formed a support group- Dating a Banker Anonymous- where they can sit and sip $15 gimlets and bitch about losing their time shares or thrice-weekly deep tissue massage. The article is both fascinating and insulting. It takes a real shithead to not only find it reasonable to complain about cutting back the Nanny's hours to 35 a week, but to then flaunt it in the Times.
I understand that it's difficult to assimilate to change, but I find it beyond reproach to rub the woes of your mild discomfort in the faces of laid-off workers and struggling families. Aw, your life is slightly less-than because your boyfriend is making less money and working twice as hard just so he won't lose his Wall Street gig? Boo fucking hoo. Here's a thought- why don't you get a job and stop whining while your meal ticket wakes up in a cold sweat to check the opening bell of the Japanese market.
Just read the article. You may find it funny, or you may read it and find yourself brogging a response in a fit of blind rage.