I Hate Sex and the City

I really do, guys. I fucking despise Sex and the City. I love fashion and great big bitches, but I hate frigid headcases, whoever dresses Sarah Jessica Parker and Kim Cattrall, puns, and women who claim that licking old balls that have been fucking around on them is empowering. I've read the original column, and while I still find the characters unappealing and entirely reprehensible, at least there's black wit and some semblance of reality.

Regardless of my distaste for the show, I've seen every episode. My friends all love it, and it's more fun to sit with one's buddies and watch something terrible than to huddle alone in one's bedroom. Therefore, I kind of want to see the movie. I hear someone dies!



CHARLOTTE ONE: "Yaaaay, I'm so boring that I look classy next to these freaks!"

CYNTHIA NIXON: "Oh, god. Oh, god. Oh, god. Why am I so cold?"

KIM CATTRALL: "Thank goodness I anticipated the cooler weather and turned my down comforter into a party dress!"

Sarah Jessica Parker, however...let's look closer.


You know what? I actually like it. It's like she's declaring, "I'M THE STAR I'M THE STAR LOOK AT MEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEE!" Considering the enmity these precious vulturesses apparently have for one another, I think I'd make sure the rubberneckers knew which one was supposed to be the main character. I might even do it with a feather parfait stapled to my damn head. Well done!