Cha, cha-cha, cha-cha. Cha, cha-cha, cha-cha, cha-cha, go xylophone, go! Splashy bus, cha cha cha.
Some noodle-y tuneful music plays as we pan from the street, up past Carrie's cute cork wedgies and li'l ankle socks, to her sitting and not typing in the blank document on the screen of her computer. She VOs that the worst part of not being in a relationship is having a column where you're required to write about being in relationships. Sure, that'd be frustrating. Maybe she should think of it as a kind of forced procrastination, brought on from outside sources. Procrastination is a big part of being a writer. Ask anyone. If you've already emailed me on the subject, I'll get back to you about it. Later. But seriously, being a writer is a lot of sitting around, a lot of phone calls and pitching, some drinking and gallivanting (all in the name of getting material), and maybe one fifth actual writing. If anyone tells you differently, they're full of it. Ask anyone at a real job -- do they work nonstop for eight hours a day? Writers don't write for eight hours a day, either. We hustle, scrabble, and schmooze, and sit around and complain, and read other people's work and talk shit about it; then we get our own work done.
Breakfast at "The Coffee Shop" with the girls. Carrie asks desperately if anyone remembers "Randall the sandal guy." Everyone is all, huh? Whuh? Yeah, Carrie dated him like six years ago, but she's that desperate. Like, last week, she wrote about French fries. Char and Mir chirp that they thought that piece was cute. Carrie kvetches. Sam looks down at her menu, silent. Carrie is all, you didn't read it? Oh my god, if I expected all my friends to comment positively on everything I published, I'd have to get new friends. And if I had to kiss all my writer-friends' asses every time they did good work in print, well, there aren't enough hours in the day. Sam says she "doesn't always have time to read [Carrie's] column." Makes sense to me! Carrie whines that she's becoming "irrelevant" even to her friends. Oy, come on. Quit crying. Mir says she always has time. All right, Superwoman, don't let anyone forget for a minute that you have it all -- baby, career, and a few minutes to read the features in the weekly paper EVERY GODDAMN WEEK. Carrie whines (again, some more) that she's in a "dating desert," and they could change the name of her column to "'[Whistle] and the City," and she's "not getting laid, therefore [she's] getting laid off." Sam says, "You're on the side of a bus, for god's sake!" Carrie is all, "These are troubled times! This is not a good economy in which to be whipped cream!" Hee. I see her point. And yet, NOW MORE THAN EVER, don't we all need a little fluff? Wow, do you guys hate me for saying "NOW MORE THAN EVER"? You do? I love you guys.
Anyway, Carrie says she started writing about her "sock drawer -- men as socks." "Socks and the city," says Sam. Ah, metaphor. I'll do it. Men as socks: You ball them, then put them away for later. Darn them! And of course, there's your jocks, your frilly socks, silly socks. Okay, I'll stop. Carrie says there aren't any men left, and Char (!) says there are so and she'll take Carrie on a man-hunt. Wow, I like this new Charlotte! The waitress comes, and everyone orders. Sam says she'll "have the fruit plate and [she's] back with Richard." What-what-whaaaat? Everyone blanches. She replays what Richard says: he's "never known anyone" like Sam, and he "got scared." Everyone is agog. Char does the universal sign language for pussy-licking (fingers in a "V" held up to the lips, then tongue fluttering between the fingers), and everyone blanches again. Mir says that when she gets scared, she hides beneath the covers. Sam is all, "Maybe you had to be there!" Carrie says maybe Sam will have to be there "twenty-four hours a day to make sure it doesn't happen again." Sam says Richard is a successful, interesting man, and "an interesting pussy may cross his path now and then." Sure -- that doesn't mean he has to lick the thing! Mir asks if men "should get medals for correctly identifying a feeling." Hee. Sam says maybe (MAYBE?) this is just a flaw in Richard. And "it's just sex." Well, it's her life. We just watch it on TV. Carrie says we "shouldn't judge," and how about this for a column? "Desperate women who are willing to believe anything." Oh, snap. Pot, have you met kettle?
We pan over baby Brady as Mir and Steve shuttle around and plug up all the electric sockets and cover the sharp edges, a.k.a. "baby-proofing" the apartment. Um, isn't he like four weeks old? He can't even move independently yet. Oh, well -- he can't read either, and I'm sure he has books. Steve clamps a lock thing on the toilet seat and suggests that they get Brady baptized. Mir is half-laughing when she says that neither she nor Steve even go to church. Yeah, he says, but it's a tradition. And it'd really make his "ma-a-a" happy. Mir's half-smile gets even bigger. "Your MA-A-A?" Steve gestures at the sleeping Brady all, "Shhh!" They go into the hall. Mir says that in the three years she's known, dated, and produced offspring with Steve, he's never mentioned his "ma-a-a" and is clearly just bringing her up now to "make a case for religion." Miranda is a lawyer. Steve says baptism isn't about religion or God, but "for just in case," so they don't go to "limbo." Mir totally laughs and says Steve doesn't even know what that means. Oh, but he does. It's "some place where babies fly around without bodies, just wings underneath their necks." Cool! Can anyone go there, or just babies? Mir says, "Oh yeah, that sounds like something we should be worried about." Steve points out that Brady isn't even crawling yet and they're -- what now? Baby-proofing the apartment. He's got a point. Mir says she doesn't believe in baptism, and why should she worry about making Steve's "ma-a-a" happy now? Steve says there'll be cake. And why shouldn't Brady "have a little party!" People give money, and if Mir doesn't believe in it, then "it's just water on the kid's head!" I'm sold just at the mention of cake.
Sam and Richard are having wine. Mmm, it does go well with the tension. She tells him that her friends don't believe him, and "what's to stop him from getting scared every time a hot woman walks by?" Richard says he isn't dating her friends, and that he has something for her. It's a little black leather box. A ring box. Now it's Sam's turn to be scared. She opens it, and it's a honking ten-carat yellow canary diamond ring. Jesus, it's beautiful. He says it's "not for that finger," but for her middle one, so he'll "have something pretty to look at when she flips him off." How...romantic? No. Generous? Sort of. She slips it on, flips him off, then welcomes him into her arms as Carrie VOs that Sam doesn't know if she's in Hell, or limbo.
Carrie types on her laptop: "Men as socks. Some men are argyles. Safe socks. This column socks." Then, "You are definitely getting fired." Oh, self-doubt. A big part of being a writer. She covers her eyes with an argyle and silently "arrghs" in frustration.
The day, she and Char sit at an outdoor cafe and play "One 100, a road trip game for urban singles." Short form, you select the men you'd like to bang out of the first 100 that walk by. Fun and harmless. Char is up to eight out of forty-six. Carrie, oh for thirty-two. The one maybe, the guy with the dachshund, is out because dachshunds "aren't real dogs." Oh no she di'in't! I love dachshunds. And maybe it's his girlfriend's dog. But he was too good-looking. Carrie theorizes that men who are too good-looking "aren't good in bed because they never had to be." Oh, I love these brutal truisms! Three guys in nice black leather jackets walk by and Carrie adjusts her list to read "oh [for] thirty-five. They were gay!" Char is all, "It's IMAGINARY! There must be someone in Gramercy Park you're willing to have imaginary sex with!" Carrie calls Char an "imaginary whore." What the fuck is that? Char asks Carrie to come to Dr. Cheryl Greystone's seminar with her, because she's "getting cynical." Carrie says, "No, that's why I WOULDN'T go." Char says she might get a column out of it. Carrie is convinced. Some guy approaches their sidewalk table, and Char says that he "has a big head" and that Carrie shouldn't look up. The guy turns out to be Carrie's editor over at the fictional weekly, the New York Star, and he's not too pleased that Carrie hasn't returned his call yet. She starts babbling about how she's researching her column and how "super fun and sexy" it should be -- all about One 100! He says bluntly that "no one is asking her to fuck every guy in town." Ah, newspaper people. They're all salty. She should have started by offering him a drink. But he called about good news, though. Clearwater Press called him, and they want to turn Carrie's columns into a book. "Oh," says Carrie. Then, with a huge smile, "Oh!" Ding ding ding!
Carrie meets with the Clearwater Press top brass, Courtney and Lily (played by Molly Shannon and Amy Sedaris, woo hoo!). They're in suits and expensive haircuts, and talk business at a rapid, machine-gun-fire pace. Carrie looks dazed. Courtney is thrilled to be "having Cosmopolitans with the woman who wrote about Cosmopolitans!" Lily says that everyone at Clearwater reads Carrie's column "religiously." Courtney even has one clipped out and taped on her refrigerator, but "not in that icky Cathy cartoon kind of way -- [she] hate[s] that shit." Wow, is that a shout-out? I've made similar comments about Ally McBeal. Anyway, the editors tell her about her sweet book deal: Carrie picks out twenty-five to thirty of her favorite columns, then writes an introduction and dedication to "set the tone" of the book. Carrie doesn't get it. Here are her fave columns, and what now? You know, hopeful or not? Optimistic or the other thing. Courtney asks, "After all the train wrecks and disappointments, do you still believe he's out there?" Lily says, "Or, should we just shoot ourselves now." Courtney and Lily lean in to hear Carrie's response. Carrie blinks dazedly, then recovers in time to say, "Oh, I'm...hopeful!" She VOs that "her cynical side thinks optimism might sell more books." Good girl.
Sam and Carrie walk the streets. Sam is ecstatic that Carrie has a book deal. "It makes [her] more fabulous! Everyone who's anyone has a book!" Ahem. Get it? Cough cough. Carrie is surprised that Sam thinks this is a good thing. Dude, it's a BOOK DEAL. One that took very little work on your part. What's not to like? Carrie is then blinded by the rock on Sam's finger. Wow, she says. "What do you get if he does it again, the Hope diamond?" Sam says that's what this is -- the "I-hope-that-fucker-doesn't-break-my-heart-again" diamond." Aww. They sling their arms around each other and soldier on.
Carrie sits on her bed, going through her columns and selecting the book-worthy ones. She has a cute little pink sweater-dress thing on. It's a little twee, but adorable. And I think I see the teeniest of tummy bulges hiding underneath. She VOs that perhaps one shouldn't be an optimist after the age of thirty, and that maybe "pessimism is something that should be applied daily, like moisturizer." Hee. But why? Oh -- when "reality batters your belief system and love does not, as promised, conquer all." Is "hope like a drug we need to go off of, or is it keeping us alive? What's the harm in believing?" Good questions, these. And -- awww.
Char writes on her bathroom mirror with lipstick, "I STILL BELIEVE IN LOVE." Jesus, do gurus really suggest that people do that? How totally lame. Char listens to some taped affirmations and smiles vacantly. Maybe some more wine, Mrs. Stepford? The lady-on-tape drivels on about fear being the absence of love, and we need to let go of fear to embrace our dreams -- or maybe Char was watching Donnie Darko, and then her Valium kicked in and she wandered into the bathroom to write on the mirror.
Mir is waiting on church steps. It's pouring rain. Finally Steve gets out of a cab, and before Mir can lambaste him for being late, his ma-a-a gets out and says it's her fault. Steve's ma-a-a is comic genius Anne Meara! Hooray. She tells Miranda, "Oh, you're so faaaancy," and that she wanted to wear her "noice dress" but the dry cleaner was closed. She's bummed the baby isn't there. Mir looks a bit shocked as she takes this all in. Like, wow, a ma-a-a. I think it's pretty amazing that through sheer force of will, Mir has structured her life to include a child with minimal input from the man she doesn't really love, and removed herself from all things marriage-y. I'm not even married, and know how much of a pain in the ass all that stuff can be. People that are dying to be married want the fluffy dress and the diamond rings and the walk down the aisle, not the rainy meetings with the future in-laws at church to sprinkle the baby's head with water. That stuff comes with it, though. Mir crosses her arms as Ma-a-a says she'd really hate it if "this little baby burned in hell." Steve yells, "Ma-a-a! Ma!" Ma-a-a says, "All right, all right!" She goes on about how her cousin had a baby that died and it was never baptized, and oh, the lamenting. And could the priest not be told that Mir and Steve aren't getting married? Steve says that they won't lie to the priest. Ma-a-a says, "Oh, NOW you're religious?" No, that's being moral. There's a difference! The priest comes out to greet them and Ma-a-a says, sotto voce, "They aren't getting married." Oy. Mir asks, "Is she drunk?" Steve says, "Nah! Just a couple beers."
Mir edits the priest's ceremony to exclude all references to the baby being Catholic, the Catholic church, Satan, the devil, original sin...what church would allow non-parishioners to come in and rewrite the standard baptism ceremony? Carrie VOs that, "in these troubled times, the Catholic church is like a thirty-year-old woman: desperate for anything it can get." Oh my Lord, that is wrong. Funny, but wrong.
Carrie is not too pleased to discover that "dress shopping" means getting a christening dress for Brady, a.k.a. "baby's first drag show." Mir asks Carrie to be the baby's godmother. Aww! But Char is going to freak.
Carrie and Char exit the elevator, ready to be enlightened at the seminar. They register, and the woman at the table asks if they'd like an affirmation. Carrie jokes that it'd be negative to say no, so they'd better say yes. Char says she "believes in the good of people." Carrie says, "I believe this is hooey." Char wheedles, "Are you going to make fun of everything?" Carrie says no, because she "isn't that quick." Nice one.
They enter the auditorium to take their seats, and Carrie mentions going christening-dress shopping with Mir. Char "awws." Carrie mumbles that Mir asked her to be the godmother. Char blanches. What? Carrie says it isn't a big deal. Oh, but it is to Charlotte. "It's a huge responsibility! [She's] known people who've lost friendships over the fact that the godmother didn't do a good enough job!" She hustles to her seat and Carrie is all, why are you getting all...oh. Yeah. THAT. That whole "wanting a baby and not being able to have one even though she did everything right on paper" thing. The elephant. Carrie asks if Char wants to be the godmother. No! And they're no longer talking. Carrie is all, "We're not?" No! Carrie begins trying to make Char laugh. She looks at her ignored affirmation and says, "I believe this is going to be a looong evening. I believe we are the only normal people here. I believe in the good of Charlotte, who dragged me here against my will when I just wanted to stay home and be negative." Char relents, and asks to hear about Brady's gown.
Sam and Richard enter a lavish restaurant. Sam asks for a table for two, holding up two fingers, then makes the universal sign for eating pussy again. He says that that turns him on, even though he knows she's doing it to make him feel bad. En route to the table, she avoids Richard's hand, then moves her chair away when he tries to move closer to her. He asks, "Are we okay?" Dude? I think not. Some things are hard to forgive and move on from. She tells him that his presence at Brady's baptism will be "all day," "boring," and "mandatory." He tells her he loves her, and that he wants to be forgiven. A woman walks by that looks like the lady they had the threesome with. Sam glowers, then smiles radiantly at Richard, whose eyes are fixed on her face. Oh, this isn't good.
The seminar. I never go to these, mainly because there are very few people I listen to, and it would be very hard for me to include in my small group of confidantes people who profit from the fact that some people want to hear a lot of bullshit. Plus, I've seen all the Kelly-joins-a-cult episodes on Beverly Hills, and I don't want to go down that road. Not again, anyway. Women listen raptly as the woman on stage tells them that "love WILL come to you, when you are ready to accept it and believe you deserve it. Love will raise you up, fear will pull you under. Only love is real." See, I don't need to pay people to tell me this. I'd pay a maid or a cook, but not a philosopher. A woman in the audience stands up and says that, after listening to daily affirmations, she found love (last week!) and now knows she deserves it. And -- the end! She rides off with the prince and la la la! Not. This is the thing -- life goes on after the falling in love thing, and it gets less glamorous from there. Char should know this, having had the fairy tale blow up in her face. The mic comes her way, and Char stands up and asks how long that woman has been doing her affirmations, because Char doesn't believe it will happen for her. The lady onstage says she hears "fear" and "doubt. You have to believe love to receive love." She walks in another direction, but the mic stays with Char, who says, "Um, that's the thing, though." She's been trying, see? She had the fairy tale. And nothing's happening. She feels "lost" and "hopeless." The totally unhelpful lady onstage says, "Perhaps you're not reeeeally putting yourself out there." Oh, Christ, with the "OUT THERE." She showed her boob to a sailor! She had imaginary sex with a few dozen guys! She is OUT THERE, en route to Handholdington and Couplehocken, stuck on the train to Snuggleville and Doublebedsford! The train has just experienced some technical difficulties! Char is taking great steps to ensure that her vagina doesn't grow over, for Pete's sake. The room of women is silent. Carrie grabs the mic and is all, "Believe me, she's out there." The seminar lady tries to argue, but Carrie won't have it, and she leans back and takes Char's hand. That's right. Screw affirmations! All you need are good friends! And boy, does that pop-doc on stage not know how to steer a conversation.
Church bells are ringing. Carrie, wearing a black cleavage-enhancing cocktail dress and a pink flowery swim-cap-looking thing on her head, dashes in the door and meets "the godfathah," Steve's brother. He totally hits on Carrie, saying "what a great story that'd be!" if they got together. Yeah, great. "We met at church, while our unmarried friends baptized their illegitimate baby. Are we religious? Nooo. But we sure are horny and desperate!"
Carrie and Mir walk down the aisle together. Carrie suggests that maybe Mir should ask Char to be the baby's godmother, since she's hopeful, while Carrie is all cynical and "one bad date away from being bitter." Mir says Carrie is her best friend, and she wants Carrie to be the godmother. Carrie says, "Well, [she] did spring for the hat." Good God, is that a godmother hat? Crikey. ["It looked like a headband with a flower on it to me." -- Sars]
We have baptism. A choir sings. Anne Meara kvells. Char takes photos, and the godfathuh gets really into posing with Carrie. Sam is surprised that Richard knows when to say, "Lord, hear our prayer." Some of the water spills on Carrie, since she's holding Brady. She hopes that "the water will wash away some of [her] original cynicism." Well, good luck with that.
After the ceremony, Anne Meara holds the baby and asks the room, "Isn't he the best goddamn Catholic you've ever seen?" The priest turns around, and she apologizes for cursing -- "but he's a cute fucking kid." Oh, boy. Sam and Richard hightail it out of there, but on the way out, Richard says to Miranda, "For the record, I did get scared." She's all, "Whatever!" Yeah, Richard. Good luck using that excuse again. Sam was scared once, too. Now she's hurt and suspicious. The other three women watch them go. Mir growls, "He's such a player." Char says beamily that maybe they'll make it. Aww, what a cute fucking optimist.
Carrie dedicates her "baby," her book, to all single women, and to her friend Charlotte, "the eternal optimist who always believes in love." Aww! Hey, did anyone get laid this episode? No? Wow. "Hope and the City"?