Hey, congrats on the two Golden Globes, you all. Splashy bus, cha cha cha!
Lights up on a tap-dancing class. This is how Charlotte is "coping" with her impending divorce. Tappa tappa tappa. Tappa tappa tappa is all some people ever had. Some people would have killed for tappa tappa tappa!
Charlotte, Carrie, and Aidan munch sushi. Charlotte effervescently describes how her new activities -- tap and a sculpture class, too -- are great, and how her divorce will be quick and painless, like pulling off a Band-Aid with one swift motion. "I don't need time to grieve!" she bubbles. Mmm hmm. Sure. Carrie, laden down with a hundred strands of pearls and a cameo on a green ribbon, nods. Then, Susan Sharon, Carrie's friend the cashmere queen who adopted Charlotte's terrier, pops up and demands to know what's new with Carrie. Carrie is all, "Writing, gallivanting." Good answers! But she forgot the impending nuptials with the man chewing sushi just to her right. Char points out the omission, and Susan Sharon looks for the ring on Carrie's hand. It isn't there, of course. The ring is hidden on a slender chain underneath the hundreds of strands of pearls and the cameo on a green ribbon. Susan Sharon asks if this is "is what the people are doing these days?" Hell no. Well, it's what the lame, selfish people are doing. Carrie lamely says that the ring is "closer to [her] heart" when she wears it on a chain. Susan Sharon plotzes, then asks if it'll be a spring wedding or a fall wedding or what. Um, they haven't decided yet. Susan Sharon says -- and is she really the first to say this? -- that they had better "chop chop" and pick a date already, since "these places book up, [she's] telling you, years and years." That's okay -- they aren't ever going to get married, so they needn't worry about such logistics.
Samantha and her perfect Richard are having breakfast. He tells her she's gorgeous. She knows. They kiss; she opens the paper and sees that some gossip columnist has a photo of Richard with some socialite on his arm. She gasps, horrified. Sam calls the guy, who thought she'd be "sucking [his] dick for getting Richard's name in the paper." Oh noooo. Sam knows for a fact that Richard is "canoodling" with one woman, and it isn't the socialite. The columnist cackles and says in blind-item-speak, "Guess which publicist can't seem to keep track of her own client?" Heh. My blind item would be, "Guess which television show continues to win accolades and awards under the guise of comedy, but is in actuality grim and unfunny?" No, too long. How about "SEX SHOW LOSES LAUGHS, GETS LINES IN FACE." And the columnist would love to fuck Samantha, if she's ever in the mood. Of course he would. But she's sprung on some other guy, see.
Samantha charges into the shower and reports the misprint to her perfect Richard. Was he in fact "canoodling" with that socialite? She needs "to know all the facts." So she can "do her job." Oh, Sam. Whht-tssh! The big jungle cat, she is tamed. One might even say "whipped." But I prefer the phonetic spelling. Whht-tssh! Whht-tssh! Richard asks her to "get that perfect ass" into the shower with him, and lowers the shower nozzle so Sam can get her own canoodle on. Sam goes along with it, choosing an orgasm over intimacy yet again.
Shower segue, from Richard's to Carrie's. Aidan draws back the curtain and hops in. Carrie looks peeved, but hey, why is a writer showering so early in the morning anyway? Not that we don't bathe, but I'm just saying. Let the contractor shower first; they're usually at work before 9 AM. We writers can be at work anytime, in jammies and slippers. Aidan gives her the report on the apartment (the wall's coming down today, and the washer and dryer will be delivered too), and how about Hawaii? Carrie's all, "As the fiftieth state?" No. The nuptials. Aidan puns, "We can get Maui-d!" Oh, boy. Carrie says she warned him about punning in the nude. And she doesn't think she's the "hang ten" kind of bride, and that her "grass skirt days are over." But the coconut bra days are here to stay! And the Chiquita Banana headgear revival is just around the corner! Hey, remember when Seventeen, and later on Sassy, used to tell you to clip plastic fruit to your plastic flip-flops? Yeah, those were the days. Aidan suggests getting married in Aspen at Christmas. Carrie turns away, makes a noncommittal noise, and scrubs herself. Then we get the obligatory VO that "for a shower with so little water pressure, it sure is raining down on [her] shoulders." Oh yes, the pressure to pick a wedding date. This surely wouldn't be pressure if you actually wanted get married, no?
Miranda's getting her Very First Sonogram. There's the spine, says the doctor. A baby of Miranda's should have a good backbone. And there's the heart beating. Miranda kind of sees it. And the sex of the baby? Does Mir want to know? Does she, does she? It's a boy! "How do you feel?" Mir looks impassive, then stony-faced, then realizes a bigger reaction is what's required of her at this moment. She whips out a huge smile and hams it up for the doctor's benefit. "Oh boy, a boy!" But you know she isn't really feeling it. My friend Sono asked if this means she doesn't want the baby, but I don't think that's it. The reality of it hasn't hit her yet. Or maybe she thinks boys stink.
Miranda and Carrie walk the streets of New York. Kaboom: the needle just flew off the Bad Fashion-o-Meter. Carrie's wearing a tiara made of branches and a pink oxford shirt that's cut to the middle of her breasts, with a gray tank underneath and knotted so it's midriff-eriffic as well. Then there's a green-and-white belt riding north of her waist, and a low-riding green-and-white skirt. The purse, a natural cotton macramé clutch with bamboo handles. Oh, my god. BAD FASHION, whoop whoop! If this get-up were on a kid -- say, anyone under 22 -- I might allow it, because experimentation is fine for youngsters. But not Carrie, not now. Not ever. This is a fashion implosion on an Enron level. I mean major, huge, everyone should have seen it coming and stopped it. Anyway, Miranda says she "just faked a sonogram," and when she tells Carrie she's having a boy, Carrie gushes a la Charlotte, with her voice reaching the upper range Mariah Carey possesses. Mir looks stonily at her and says, "See? That's the reaction they wanted out of me, but I couldn't do it. Everyone else is glowing about my pregnancy, when will I?" Carrie asks to see Mir's fake sonogram face. Mir obliges. It's a scary-looking wide smile. Carrie relates her wedding blues to Mir's lack of glow, saying that everyone is freaking out about her engagement, but that she feels "like a deadbeat bride" and doesn't want to plan all the usual three-ring dog-and-pony stuff that weddings are made of. Mir says, and I love her for it, "Don't do it, then. Fuck 'em." Seriously. Fuck them. Who cares what everyone else wants? It's your life, Carrie. You go with your tiara of branches and your oxford half-shirt and don't plan a conventional wedding. And since we really don't know much about your or Aidan's families, fuck them too! Fuck everyone. Fuck them all. But then Carrie says she doesn't want to even shop for a dress, and something must be horribly wrong with her to not want to shop. Mir relates the dread to a dentist's visit, in that it's never as bad as you think it'll be. Or, you know, the GYN's office. Or in my case, washing the dog. He really puts up a fight, but then it's over in like twenty minutes, and he smells so good and feels so soft. So, Mir says she knows of a "horrible" bridal boutique nearby, and dares Carrie to "face the dragon" and try on a gown. She'll try one on too, and afterwards, spring for a Tasti Delite. Dude, I would so be down with that plan. Sars, maybe week, you and me? ["You're on, sister." -- Sars]
Inside the jaws of the dragon, Carrie and Mir very patronizingly explain to the seen-it-all shop woman that they need gowns. Mir says she wants Carrie "to look like a giant cupcake." Carrie pats Mir's belly and says they're "in a hurry," and that Mir has everything but "a gown. And a groom! Whoops!" The shop woman asks dryly, "Is this a lesbian wedding?" Because she's seen it all, you see. But maybe, just maybe, she doesn't have HBO.
On the count of three, Mir and Carrie emerge from their separate dressing rooms. We have gowns. Hideous gowns. Frilly gowns. With poofy sleeves. They laugh and cackle. Mir says she's going to pee in her dress. Carrie looks at herself in the mirror, loses her laugh in a hurry, and has a panic attack. She says she can't breathe, and screeches, "Get it off!" Finally, after Mir fumbles with "the million buttons" on the back of the gown, Carrie directs her to "just rip it! Rip it off!" Mir does. Carrie's back is all broken out in hives. Mir asks, "What just happened here?" Was it not exactly clear? Something was telling Carrie to beware.
At lunch with the girls, Carrie says she can't get married. Maybe she should tell…Aidan? Since he's the one to whom she'd be getting married? Char and Sam blame Mir, for "taking [Carrie] to that dump" of a bridal salon. Mir says, "It was an experiment? It went awry?" Like the right dress would have made Carrie want to get married. Carrie lifts her shirt and shows her rash off. They girls gasp. Sam says, "When you get a rash from a guy, it's time to heave-ho." Is that a tip in Kim Cattrall's new book, I wonder? Or maybe a whole chapter? Carrie whines that her "body is literally rejecting the idea of marriage," and that she's "missing the bride gene." Hey, that makes sense. It's not like marriage is a biological urge or something. Quite the opposite, in fact. And post-post-sexual revolution, one might wonder why the wedding industry is still booming. Oh, right: people like parties. And presents. Sam says Carrie "isn't the only one," because she doesn't want to get married either. Carrie is all, name one good reason people DO get married, "besides the whole not-wanting-to-die-alone thing." Well, tax breaks, for one. And then there's standing up before your friends and everyone and declaring your love for one person, and promising to be true and to take care of them. That's nice too, I guess. And the party. And the presents. Are any of these good reasons? Char says "sense of security." Carrie says she feels secure now. Mmm hmm. More like backed into a corner, I think. Mir is all, "Why did you say yes?" Seriously. With grating, annoying passion, Carrie makes a speech about how when the man you love gets down on his knees in the street, you say yes. When the man I love gets down on his knees in the street, I know he's just looking in the cheap record bins. But that's just me. Sam says, hope for the best, and if it doesn't work out, just get divorced! "Take tap lessons with Bojangles over here!" Hee. But Carrie "can't do that to Aidan." She'd rather crush him without marrying him. Char says everyone gets anxious about weddings, and "maybe [Carrie's] threshold for anxiety is lower than everyone else's." Carrie wonders if the gown is still outside the dumpster at Tasti Delite.
Carrie, in a pink tank top and aqua terrycloth short-shorts, types on her laptop. She itches her rash, then applies some ointment. Then, the question of the week. "Do we really want [marriage], or are we just programmed?" She heads out to buy cigarettes. While at the newsstand, she peruses the plethora of bridal magazines, then opts for them instead of the Marlboros.
Back at home, she looks at all the different kinds of bridal models in their slightly different white dresses and slightly different smiles. Then, kaboom. The wall behind her bed starts pounding. It's Aidan busting through with a sledgehammer, making one giant apartment. She screams, "Stop, Aidan, stop it!" He can't hear her over the loud music. She runs door, past all the boxes, and tells him that she's having doubts, she's "freaking out," and that this is all happening too fast. Aidan's like, "The hole? I told you I was coming through today." No, not the hole. She means the wedding. The "marriage stuff." He offers her a blanket, and she kneels on it like she's praying to Mecca. Then she says she isn't ready to get married yet. Aidan says he's being caught off guard, and that he needs a second. He drops down to her, and asks if it's because he said they "could get Maui-d." She laughs, and thanks him for making a joke. Well, it's a pun, really. But seriously, dude, she doesn't want to get married, okay? Aidan asks how much time she needs. "Six months? Nine months? End of the year?" Carrie's all, "Which year?" Maybe 2003, Chinese Year Of The Self-Centered Fashion Victim? He says they can work it out. She thanks him. Dude? Grow a spine and LEAVE. How much bigger does the handwriting have to be on the wall? She doesn't want to get married. Not now, not ever.
Mir is working quietly at home when her cleaning lady, Magda, comes running in with the sonogram photo. She asks what the sex of the baby is, then has the typical ecstatic reaction to Mir's deadpan line of "it's a boy." Magda plotzes, then demands that Mir smile. "Smile. Smile for a boy!" Mir doesn't smile. Don't ever play poker with Miranda. Then she whips out her Ultrabrite ad face, and Magda dances away, appeased. Mir puts her teacup right down on the sonogram photo. Heh.
Charlotte tappa-tappa-tappas away to "Tea for Two." The class has to pair up and cross the floor, step shuffle shuffle change. Everyone pairs up, until Char is left alone. She stands, flapping her arms like a kid. Her teacher tells her to "go it alone." Um, way to inadvertently push the soon-to-be-divorced one's buttons. Let the histrionics begin: "I can't do this! I shouldn't have to! I deserve a real partner! I just came here to have fun and feel good about myself! And this song is abusive?" The accompanist is all, "Should I stop?" Heh. Carrie VOs that Charlotte "tapped into her pain." Oh, GROAN -- but that's actually not bad.
Okay, Richard is having a fund-raiser. A black-and-white Ball. The whole gang goes. Aidan looks good in a tux; Carrie pretty good in a white strapless gown. Gee, I wonder what could happen in these outfits. Maybe a little man in a collar will be lurking about. Or maybe they'll FINALLY BREAK UP! Carrie teases Mir by saying it's "so sci-fi" that she's "growing a teeny tiny penis inside of her." Char freaks out over the fact that Mir is having a boy. Mir puts on her fake sonogram face. Aidan delivers some drinks to the women, and Char asks if he knew Mir was having a boy. He looks at her flatly, and Mir delivers the Ultrabrite smile again, muttering that she's "going to hurt [her]self."
Sam strolls by the sleazy gossip columnist, who mentions that he has another item about Richard for his column: "Which tycoon is having an affair with a very public lady?" Sam purrs demurely, and says she guesses "the cat is out of the bag." In a manner of speaking. The columnist points out Richard across the room, subtly canoodling with another lady. "Rumor has it they've done it in every one of his hotels." Sam stalks off, livid. She meets up with the girls, and says she's "caught monogamy" from them. Carrie deadpans, "Now it's airborne." Sam cries that there are plenty of hot guys at the ball, but she doesn't want to fuck any of them. "Richard likes [her] because [she's] immune to this bullshit!" "This bullshit" meaning being possessive and wanting to be the only one. She spins on her heel, crosses the room (ramming the other woman out of the way), and asks Richard how many women he's fucking. She grabs his crotch for extra emphasis. "All this canoodling makes investors nervous." Richard points out that it must make her nervous too. "Just fuck me," says Sam. Richard says he isn't "the monotonous...er, monogamous type, and neither are you." Sam storms off and grabs the sleazy columnist for some quick revenge sex.
Oh, Sam. Revenge sex is lame. It can't be any fun. And the guy even loses his hard-on. Damn. Sam reapplies her lipstick as he protests that this doesn't happen to him. She exits the restroom and walks right into Richard. "If anyone could keep monotony interesting..." Then the columnist exits the bathroom. Richard chuckles, kisses Sam on the cheek, and says she'll never change. "Let's just keep things as they were." Sam looks crushed, furious, and heartbroken all at once.
Aidan and Carrie walk home. They linger by a fountain. Aidan remarks that with him in a tux and her in a white gown, they could fly to Las Vegas and get married tonight. "Ha ha," says Carrie. "Seriously. Come on! We get married tonight, we wake up tomorrow, it's done. We don't even have to tell anybody." But what about the presents? Carrie is all, "I'm scared. I need more time." Aidan says he has "no tricks up his sleeves. What's going to change? This is who [he is]." Carrie is all, this isn't about YOU. Of course it isn't. When is it ever? She's not ready, he is. Aidan starts whining that he "doesn't wanna live together! What's the big deal, it's just a stupid piece of paper!" Wow, I'm flashing back hardcore to those days when SJP used to appear on Letterman and cry about how one Matthew Broderick supposedly didn't want to get married yet, and she really really did. What a total reversal. Maybe SJP is a great actress? Aidan yells that he needs it, he "wants to lock this thing down" and "let the whole world know [she's his]." She's all, whose else would I be? Beat. "You still don't trust me!" Aidan says Carrie doesn't even "wear that ring on [her] fuckin' finger." So, Aidan wanting to get married means he doesn't trust Carrie? That's some pretzel logic right there. And a neat way of making us hate Aidan and not Carrie. Not working on me! Aidan says, "If you don't want to marry me right now, you'll never want to marry me." Then he says he's going to sleep in the other apartment tonight. Carrie's all, "Really?" He walks away.
Mir washes her face. She feels the baby kick, and she gasps. That's a real Ultrabrite smile. Her maternity gene kicked in too.
Carrie VOs that "there are some walls you can push through, and some you can't." In bare feet, she creeps into the apartment to hers and curls up to Aidan, who's sleeping on the floor. Then, "the day, Aidan moved out." YAY! Oh, I'm gleeful.
week: Big is back!