Credits. Cha, cha-cha, cha-cha. Cha, cha-cha, cha-cha. Cha, cha-cha, cha-cha, cha-cha, whee, go xylophone! Splashy bus! Cha cha cha.
An elevator door opens, revealing Carrie inside. She's wearing a rather farm-girlish red dress with white polka-dots. It's demure, even though she's rocking bumping cleavage. She's got a cream-and-black overnight bag in hand (I have a Puma one I love) and proceeds to an apartment door. The VO lists "important firsts in a girl's life" -- this is the first time she's seeing Berger's apartment. I cross my fingers for her that he's not a slob.
The door opens, and they kiss. His place looks great, with exposed brick on one wall, a neatly made bed, a great, well-equipped kitchen, and a neat stack of CDs and books on the desk. So fucking neat and tidy. Carrie chirps "nice!" a lot, then says she's relieved. "Nothing in here says scary bachelor." Berger adds, "Except me." The music is far too cheery to indicate that. Gustave and I were hanging out one weekend, as we are wont to do, and watched snippets of two scary movies. One, a Lifetime movie about a charming and busy serial killer, and then the Johnny Depp Jack the Ripper thing, Like Hell. We noticed two sound choices in both these films: a keening, high-pitched singing. Does that mean "scary" in sound editing booths? I wish I could provide an audio clip of the sound I'm thinking of. It was also liberally used in the movie Wild Things with Kevin "I'd Like A Side Of Him" Bacon. Let me try for you. Haaaaaaaa! Haaaa-aaaaaaaaaah! Gustave and I kept doing that all weekend long whenever things got a little bit eerie. And if Carrie were in a slasher flick instead of this breezy fashionista-centered comedy, maybe we'd be hearing that sound now. It isn't, and we're not, but what happens does change the tone a bit. Berger says he can't take credit for the decor in his place; "that's Lauren." Carrie states what she thinks is the obvious. "Ralph Lauren?" No. Berger's ex-girlfriend Lauren. She's a decorator. Carrie sags the teeniest bit and, making giant air-quotes with her long fingers, says, "Please. You have a 'decorator,' I have a 'decorator.' Do we need to have the ex-decorator conversation now?" Berger says "got it" and kisses her. Fade to black.
Post-coitus, I presume, Carrie and Berger settle in to sleep. He's all, "Welcome to my apartment, night," and then a chorus of crickets and a gulping frog starts up. The hell? Berger is a "troubled sleeper," and this is his audio sleep aid. Carrie is appalled. Then a bird calls. She says, "I feel like I'm camping. I'm not a big fan of camping." Berger says he'll make s'mores for her in the morning, then says the tape was a gift from Lauren. He tries to go on about it and her and his sleep issues, but Carrie shushes him. Then he says, "After a while you won't even hear it." She VOs that she "hopes he means his ex-decorator's name."
Ah, the Empire State Building. We pan down to the sidewalk to see the four girls in high casual cocktail-party garb, heading into an apartment building. Sam and Miranda don't want to go to this party they're headed into, but Carrie and Charlotte want to "be supportive" since this "friend" tried to commit suicide -- even though it was "six Advil on an empty stomach."
Hey, it's Jennifer Lewis, a.k.a. Stifler's mom (MILF! MILF!), a charming character actress who cracked me up in Best in Show. There's a tight close-up on her face as she chants the reasons why she's doing so well right now: she's "off the Zoloft, dropped ten pounds, then after the asshole dumped [her], [she] realized [she] had a gift for making bags! It's a purse party!" She waves her arm like one of Barker's beauties at a table bulging with loud and tacky bags. MILF holds up one covered with tiny wax fruits and says, "You can take it to lunch!" The girls ooh and aah kindly. MILF says, "Isn't life funny? Because of that fucker, I discovered I'm Fendi! Buy away!" Hee! Monica Lewinsky is sitting at home right now, clutching a Razzmatazz sour appletini (or maybe even a Pucker DeKuyper sour watermelontini) and going, "Shout-out?" I think so, Mon. Hey, at least it's not a stain-on-a-dress joke. It's not even a joke, really. I keep waiting for all the knitting-after-9/11 jokes to emerge. I keep waiting for the scarf my sister said she was making for me. I saw her giant knitting needles. I even picked out yarn. That scarf is like the so-called weapons of mass destruction.
Mir looks askance at the collection of bags and wonders, "When did making purses become a fallback career?" Since Monica, is when. Sam says that "owning a hot glue gun does not make you a hot designer." Carrie says, "These aren't bags, they're baggage. We are looking at the ruins of a failed relationship. And it was one ugly breakup." Then, of course, the topic of conversation goes back to herself. "Berger just opened up the 'ex' file last night." Char's curiosity is piqued. "Fascinating! What have you learned?" Not a lot, and frankly, Carrie would have preferred to remain ignorant of any facts. Char says that when you learn about the ex, you learn what you're getting into. Sam says that as long as you get "doesn't itch," you're doing all right. Wow, an STD joke. That's not sexy. Carrie says, "He has a past, I have a past; do our pasts really have to have a present." Carrie wanted to skip all that. Wouldn't it be nice? But, much like this show, relationships have to follow a certain formula. Unless you're screwing around, which has to follow a formula of discretion. I think. Sam sees her hottie waiter from last week and blurts out, "I fucked him!" The waiter is Jason Lewis, who I just saw on Beverly Hills playing a hot young actor who turned the head of Valerie Malone. Now, like eight years later, here he is on S&TC playing a hot young waiter/actor who turns the head and opens the legs of Samantha Jones. Talk about range. I like him with the longer hair. He notices Sam and looks pleased. Sam takes a glass of champagne (Veuve Clicquot, I think?) and says, "This party just got a little more exciiiitiiiing!"
The MILF dashes into the kitchen and says they need more tuna tartare tartlets out there, stat. The cook looks at her like, what the fuck do I look like, a waiter? Then, the sounds of Sam being fucked waft into the kitchen like the scent of a thousand tuna tartare tartlets gone to pot. MILF rounds the corner and sees Hottie Waiter and Sam going at it, right up against a stack of clean cocktail glasses. MILF screams, "I'm way too fragile to see this right now! You're FIRED!" She splits, and Hottie Waiter keeps thrusting, and Sam keeps moaning.
Back at the party, an eager guest asks MILF if one purse comes in other colors. MILF says, "What do I look like, a fucking department store?" She overturns a rack of hideous bags and screams, "All you bitches get the fuck out of my apartment!" She grabs at a bag in a woman's hand and rips it. "You bitch! I cut up my bedspread for that!" I wonder if this ever happened at the Watergate?
Back at the conversion ranch, a.k.a. Temple Emmanuel, Charlotte is a Me-Firster with her hand always in the air. Carrie VOs that she "took to her conversion classes like a gefilte fish to water." The rabbi tells them to "grieve the loss" of their Christian rituals, because letting go of them can be difficult. Char looks alarmed. Oy.
Mir, in a great-looking red sweater and grayish satin skirt, opens the door for Steve, who's twenty minutes late. He's quick with an excuse about having to help fix Debbie's car -- you know, the girl he's seeing? -- and Mir flinches a bit and says she "doesn't need to know." And time, he shouldn't be twenty minutes late. Or seeing some girl named Debbie with a busted-ass car. Well, Mir doesn't say that last part. I did.
Char stays after conversion class to talk to Rabbi Minsch about Christmas. "Is it really that important?" Dude, do you know how Hanukah works? I'm sorry -- can Char even spell Hanukah? What I'm saying is, you may make out better in the gift department than with the Christian tradition. Plus, one word: gelt. It's good stuff. Screw candy canes, give me some gelt. The Rabbi says she has to let go of old traditions and embrace the new. Char says she won't go to church, but maybe she could still have a tree? Or caroling? Rudolph? Nope. Carrie VOs that Char will forever think of him as the "Minsch that stole Christmas." OY.
Carrie, in a sleep mask but with no chirping noises, is awakened by the phone. Are you ready for this? It's Big. He starts off strong. "Remember that little red dress you had?" She's all, whuh? I was sleeping. He's all, "You never needed so much sleep before, kid." Oh, so husky and confident. I bet people are screaming right now. Back to the subject at hand: the little red dress. Carrie, having found her bearings, asks, "Versace or Gucci?" The one with the little straps, he rasps. That's Gucci, she assures him. And when he would slip one strap off her shoulder, the other one would fall down too? Yes. Carrie remembers that dress. What about that time Big found her in her closet wearing only high heels and a bra, does she remember that? Yes, Big. Is the water warm enough? Yes, Big. And he came up behind her and put her hands against the wall? Carrie sits up in bed, takes off her sleep mask, and says, "Yes."
Brunch with the girls. I have to say I totally agree with that excellent New York Times Magazine article about how this show makes one long for more time to spend with one's girlfriends. There's a lot of people I'd like to have brunch with every week, or go out to meals with on a regular basis, and there's just no time. Damn you, New York Times Magazine article, for defining another aspect of my life so perfectly! Anyway, in a cute vintage-looking stripy shirt and Cacharel-looking, crazy-print kimono jacket, Carrie spills the beans: she had "accidental phone sex with Big." Oh, is that where that husky voice was going? What a huge surprise. Mir is intrigued, but Char doesn't see why Carrie would need or want to drag all that "Big baggage" out when she's "in a serious relationship with Berger." Carrie says she's not in a serious relationship; she and Berger are just dating. And "it's not baggage, it's Biggage!" Anyway. Big's no more threat to Berger than Lauren is to her. "It's all in the past." She's so confident! Which can only mean one thing: comeuppance. Brady begins to cry, and Mir digs into her diaper bag for a pacifier. She finds a tabloid newspaper and a twelve-pack of condoms. Steve's condoms, for use with Debbie. Carrie cracks, "Where do they do it, Gymboree?" Sam purrs, "Debbie Does Daycare." Heh. Brady gums a (wrapped, mind you) condom, and Mir blanches. Sam reassures her. "Don't worry, I have those in my mouth all the time."
Back at home post-brunch, Carrie sits with her laptop and muses on relationships in grammatical terms. You know, past tense, present tense, future perfect tense. "How much does that past relationship remind one of a future perfect?" And she couldn't help but wonder: "Can you get to a future if your past is present?" Hmm.
Sam sticks her toes in Hottie Waiter's ear. Does he have to leave? Yeah, he has to pull another shift at the restaurant. He got fired from his other gig, remember? Sam offers him something: $300. That's what A-List Catering staff gets. He looks at the bills, then tosses them down, saying, "Lady, you are out of your fucking mind." She looks shocked and disappointed that he refuses the cash. Honey, didn't you ever see BUtterfield 8? NO SALE!
Carrie reads the paper in Berger's apartment as he putters around getting ready for breakfast with a bunch of writer friends. He'd invite her along, but they're a "rather pathetic bunch." Carrie assures him that he's not pathetic. His phone rings, and he heads out the door without acknowledging it. She's all, you gonna get that? He thinks it can only be one word: Telemarketer. Carrie thinks it's a "two-word hyphenate." Oh, ha ha, writers. They love to talk about words. And shit. The machine picks up; it's Lauren. She wants to talk to Berger, so would he call her later? He flips off the machine first with one finger, then both. "Fuck you, and FUCK YOU!" Then, to Carrie: "Bye-bye!" Carrie looks at him, horrified. I totally crack up.
Carrie rehashes the situation with Sam as they walk down the sidewalk. Carrie doesn't want there to be a "double-finger situation" with her b.f.'s ex. Now she has "to open the ex-file." She has so many questions. Sam agrees, "Men are crazy." Why, just the other day she offered to pay Hottie Waiter for sex (or at least after it), and he got pissed off and left! Carrie looks at her and is all, "Not the same situation. $300 in a restaurant is a big tip, $300 in the bedroom is a big prostitute." Sam says at least she's not having phone sex. Carrie says, "HE called ME."
Mir confronts Steve about the cache of condoms in the diaper bag. "I'm not happy our baby is having sex already, but at least he's being safe." Hee. She asks, "How much sex are you having that you have to keep rubbers in the diaper bag?" Steve's all, "What's it to you?" Carrie VOs that "contents of Miranda's baggage may have shifted during fight." Mir says she thinks Steve is not taking parenting seriously enough. He's mad. "What? Okay -- what's your problem?" She's worried that when he's putting his penis in Debbie's vagina and having an orgasm, his concentration won't be a hundred percent on Brady's needs. As she rants, Brady crawls toward the edge of the sofa, ultimately toppling off the edge. Clunk! Waah! Waah! Mir picks him up, saying, "See!" Carrie VOs that they agree only "on separate diaper bags."
Hey, look. It's Christmas in July. Char, doing the exact opposite of what Rabbi Minsch advised, has set up a Christmas tree and is playing Bing Crosby. Mmm, I want dim sum. This Christmas Kvetchy Smurf and I went out for dim sum and heard Bing Crosby's "Mela Kalikimaka (Is The Thing To Say)," or whatever that Hawiian Christmas song is called, like seven times. It was great. I love dim sum. Harry comes in and says it's okay for her to have a tree, "lots of Jews do." Char says no, and oh, look! It's her favorite ornament, a blue ball of silent night, holy night. "See how the glitter has almost worn off the baby Jesus?" Hee. "Do you know how rare it is to have a blue Christmas ornament?" Harry says mock-incredulously, "Is thaaat a faaact." Hee. I love being mock-incredulous almost as much as I love the mock duck at the dim sum place. Harry says kindly, "Have a tree, who cares?" Char does. She "won't be a meat-eating vegetarian. All this stuff has to go." Harry wants to keep the blue ornament with the baby Jesus on it. "After all, they were Jews too." He twirls it, singing, "Dreidl, dreidl, dreidl, I made it out of clay. And when it's something something!" Char says, "Dry and ready." Harry is impressed with her vast knowledge of the dreidl song, and says, "Oh dreidl I will PLAY" while nibbling her neck. Carrie VOs that the memories Char is giving up may not be as good as the memories she'll get in the future.
Sam, in an effort to make up for the paying-her-lover-for-sex thing, dons a French maid lingerie-type thing and sprays him with whipped cream, assuring him that the "customer always comes first." He's all, do you know my name? Sure! It's Paul! No, Jerry. Well, she took a shot. She tries to lick him into submission, but he's all, "I'm not just a waiter, you know. I'm an actor." Sam rolls off him and says she just "lost [her] hard-on." He says it's a good thing he still has his. Carrie VOs that this was Sam's "first Jerry." Aww. She busted her Jerry cherry. That is so very.
Carrie spends another night "not sleeping in Berger's bed." The crickets and frogs are working overtime, but she's tossing and cursing up a storm. And it's not the soundtrack from On Golden Pond that's bothering her; it's the double finger to the answering machine thing. What's the deal with Berger and Lauren? Well, she's been calling and asking for a "closure" lunch, "closure" being her word, not his -- and never one he would use at 2 AM. God, do I hate an ex who's pushing for "closure." It makes me want to dredge up another word that's used in annoying context: "organic." Closure can't happen when you want it to. And please note: you can't spell "closure" without L-O-S-E-R. One of my exes had an ex who insisted they see each other regularly. God, did I ever hate that bitch. Now, of course, they never even fucking talk to each other. Talk about an exercise in futility. Let go and move on, everyone! Berger continues: Lauren cheated on him, and it "killed him," and he was "dead," until there was Carrie. They embrace, and Carrie VOs that another first is realizing that something might really be something. Berger asks to hear about her exes, and she says, "How much time have you got?" Seriously. Dude, just go get the DVDs.
Carrie, in a blue hoodie and brown pants, calls Big. He bursts up from underneath the surface of the water in his hot tub, takes a deep gulp of air, and answers his phone. They make witty banter for a bit ("a Jacuzzi is a cliché, a hot tub is retro"), and then he starts with the phone sex again, or so she thinks ("I was just going to remind you of the time you lost your necklace in the jets!"). No -- Carrie is just calling to say they won't be having one of those phone calls again, because they're just friends and she doesn't talk to her friends like that. Big says, "I do." Carrie says, "Well, maybe that's why you have so few!" Carrie explains that she's seeing someone and "it just got serious...so we have to leave all that in the past." Big says, "Ahh, friends." She tells him about Berger, and Big says, "Okay, kid! Give me a call sometime. Any kind of call you want." Click.
And Char steps into a swimming pool, and after asking if the tub was drained before her, she submerges herself into the water to emerge a Jew.
Carrie pops into Berger's apartment to offer him a new start in the form of a new sound machine. He likes it. They hug. And as they drift off to sleep that night to the sound of crashing waves, Carrie says she slept more soundly than she had all...damn! My TiVo cut off the ending. I have to start TiVoing The Wire so I can catch the end of the ep.