Boy, Interrupted

Credits. Cha, cha-cha, cha-cha. Cha, cha-cha, cha-cha. Cha, cha-cha, cha-cha, cha-cha, whee, go xylophone! Splashy bus! Ohhh, the five-dollar tutu, she is ruined. Cha cha cha. And didn't you love Gustave's recap last week? God, he's good. I particularly loved his theory that Carrie's angst is caused by herself, or by seeing herself on the bus that splashes her. Self-loathing is truly one's worst enemy. Get out of your head, Carrie! Can't you see you're killing you?

Carrie wheels through the revolving door of a restaurant, and I am struck by the fact that her bra straps are not visible underneath her strappy, stripe-y dress. Wow -- the clean lines of her dress are unmarred! This has to be a first. She VOs that she didn't go to her high school reunion, so when her high school sweetheart called her for a reunion a deux (he's in Connecticut for a month), she hopped right on board. And oh my! Her high school b.f. is none other than the delicious, naughty, winsome David Duchovny. Mmm mmm mmm mmm mmm. I can never forget that he was a former sex addict. Did you know that, dear reader? I wonder if I know any sex addicts. And if I do, why haven't they made this known to me? I mean, I'm single now. Addiction has many layers to it, and if I can be part of the healing process...all I'm saying is, David? I'm here to help. Carrie kvells at the sight of David and VOs that he looks even better than he did in high school. Of course he does. Adolescent boys aren't usually the paradigm of hotness. Usually they're awkward physically and immature in every other way. Plus, two words: Square Pegs. Square pegs, square pegs, square, square pegs! La SJP was, shall we say, more on the duckling's side of the church than the swan's. Anyway, Carrie, all glowing and flooded with old memories ("Ohhh, the AMC Paaaa-cerr!") and agrees to have dinner with him. Duh. Who wouldn't? It's David Duchovny!

Mir, home alone on a Saturday night, opens her door to see...Blair Underwood. Wow, he looks great. And the fact that he can successfully play sexual tension opposite Miranda is wonderful too. The whole character is such a wonderful fantasy -- a handsome doctor moves into the building and is instantly hot for you, the worn-out single mom. What's not to love? He offers her two floor seats to a charity Knicks game, and says he'll see her there. She happily accepts, then has a stunned moment when she realizes that The New Hot Doctor In The Building Just Asked Her Out, Thus Making Her Fantasy Almost Reality. Miranda? I believe it may be your birthday.

Carrie and David walk home after dinner. She exclaims with surprise that she never even asked him what he was doing in Connecticut for a month. Right: Carrie was probably blathering on about herself. Blah blah me! Blah blah I fucked the best man at my friend's wedding two weeks ago, and he got all pissed I didn't want to do it twice! Blah blah I love shoes! Blah blah I almost got busted for smoking weed but my pitiful breakup note got me out of jail! Anyway, David says he's just getting his head right after a nasty divorce, "relaxing in the country, sorting through some things." Smells like rehab to me. Why can't Carrie smell it? Is she too high on the smell of herself? Eww. Carrie smells. Anyway, they arrive at her door, and dance around the issue of the kiss. They remind each other that they've kissed before ("We were in a liplock throughout most of 1982!"), then kiss again. It looks pretty sweet. Oh, David Duchovny. Sigh.

Sam walks down the street, shvitzing. It's a hot summer day. Then she runs into Phoebe, a.k.a. Geri Halliwell, who says she's feeling EVAH so refreshed having just come from a dip in the pool at SoHo House. Sam gets all jealous, then says she has a lunch date or otherwise she'd be poolside herself, being misted with Evian. Kiss kiss!

Lunch with the girls. Sam vents about how unfair it is to have a pool one block from her apartment, but being in waiting list hell has denied her entry. Dude, I feel that. I've been on the waiting list to get into the Pen & Pencil Club for months, too. That's the journalist's club in Philly where you can drink after hours. It's so wonderful and seedy. Where's my damn membership card? Carrie says, "Don't they know who you are?" Mir adds, "And who we are, who need to be in the pool with you." Hee. Sam laments the days of yore, when one only had to ride one's dinosaur to the swimmin' hole, then beat a few saber-toothed tigers to death before hopping a fence to go swimming. Carrie is all, speaking of high school, I saw my high school boyfriend and I like him! AGAIN! Charlotte perkily blows a gasket. "You could end up with your high school boyfriend!" Everyone shoots her Shut Up And Chill looks. Sam brings up sex, of course. "Talk about a homecoming!" Christ. Carrie admits that they never did it because they were too young. But now, they're old as hell, so blow off the dust and go for it! Char says dreamily, "You're going to maaaarry him!" Gawd.

Carrie goes home and finds the heavy stone tablet that is her high school yearbook. Go, Fighting Pterodactyls! Beat Yale! Wow, the picture of David is so funny! His hair is so long and his teeth look buck-y. He looks like the oldest brother in Hanson, but cuter and less annoying. Carrie wiggles her feet and kvells. She VOs that most of the women she knew in high school have gone on to have better taste in food, clothing, and men. But her high school sweetheart is even better with some vintage. She types, "When it comes to matters of the heart, did we have it right in high school?" I can hear the chorus of voices now: "God, I hope not!"

Sam, hot and sweaty, stalks into the SoHo House and demands to know why her membership application has not been processed. The snooty desk girl says that poolside seating is already at capacity, ma'am. Sam is all, do you know who I am? Desk Girl does not. Sam whimpers, well, can I use the restroom then? Desk Girl huffs that it's the door marked WC down the hall.

Once in the WC, Sam finishes up washing her hands and gets ready to go. The fastidious washroom attendant asks Sam if she left her membership card on the counter. Did she ever! Annabelle Bronstein -- yeah, right.

Sam tries out the card the very day. A poolside waiter boy asks if "Miss Bronstein" would like anything to drink. Sam says yes, but she'll pay cash, "and please, call me Annabelle."

Lunch at Cafeteria -- not a high school cafeteria, nor Danceteria. At lunch are some great tertiary characters we don't see enough of: Stanford and Marcus at one table, Charlotte and Anthony at another. Stanford spies Anthony and makes a face of disgust. "Ooh, I hate him." Then to Marcus, "Come on, we're going over there. Because you're wearing a tank top!" Is Marcus supposed to be really hot? Because I'm not getting that. And why are Stanford's clothes more hideous than anyone else's? He's in an exceptionally ugly black and turquoise polyester shirt. It's as if Versace ate too much Pucci and was sick, and then someone wove a shirt out of that. He's also sporting a not-quite-matching turquoise and green Britney cap. Gawd. It's a crime against eyes. Stanford bristles at Anthony, introduces Marcus, then says he has to go pick up tickets for the Gay, Bi, Lesbian and Transgendered Prom. Aww! He's also on the decorations committee. Aww! Who's in charge of spiking the punch? And will there be poppers? Anthony asks what the theme of the prom is. "Queer and queerer?" Stanford bristles some more. Char, every inch of her perking with fresh fruit flavor, says she has such fond memories of her prom. She was homecoming queen. Ugh. I wasn't drunk enough at my prom. I asked the stupid DJ to play a Love and Rockets song, and he said, "I've got 'Rock It To Ya'!" I don't even know what the hell song that is! I guess I should just be glad no one gave birth at my prom and then tried to cover it up by smothering the baby in paper towels. I mean, that would really cast a pall over your memories of prom. Anyway. Stanford is all, I didn't make it to my prom because...Anthony cuts him off. "You were GAY?" Stanny is all, NO, my girlfriend and I broke up because... "You were GAY." Stanford says, no, I wasn't gay until... "You were BORN?" "Come on, Marcus, let's go." They do.

Anthony leans in and whispers that they should be going to the "Gay, Lesbian, and Prostitute Prom." Char, of course, protests. No, really: Anthony saw Marcus advertising his services as a gay escort in a "vintage copy" of Honcho magazine, in the "Poncho section. He called himself Paul. Worst escort name I ever heard!" Yeah. I prefer Chad. Or Brad. Or Lance. Pierce is good too. Remember when all the actors in the '60s had names that sounded like a punch? Dirk. Rip. Duke. Zap. Just kidding about the last one. Anthony says he'll send Char the ad for her perusal.

And, at the Knicks game, Char and Mir study the ad. It is in fact Marcus, and his stud name is Paul. That's like having a phone sex ad saying a horny housewife wants to talk dirty when her husband is out. It's a little dull, a little pedestrian. There's no fantasy about a guy named Paul. Now a guy named Rip, that you can play with. Or Chad! Hanging Chad, Swinging Chad, Dimpled Chad. One ad features "Humphrey," which is a little erudite. But I'm sure there's a market for it. Then there's one for water sports, and I know there's a market for that. One of my friends on Friendster.com listed water sports as an interest, along with Dolly Parton and Cher. I love him a lot. Char and Mir realize that Stanford probably does not know about Marcus's past as a male prostitute, so they should shut up about it when they're in the Garden. Mir sees Blair wrapping a player's ankle and kvells. "He's so cute!" Char bubbles over again, some more. "He likes you! Look at these seats!" They're right on the floor, very good seats. Too bad it doesn't seem like they care about the game. Oh well, it's just a charity game. Then the buzzer sounds, and the dance team takes center court. Char gushes, "Did you ever know I was a cheerleader?" Mir says, "No, because you knew I would mock you for it." They giggle. Boy, the high school motif just doesn't quit in this ep, does it? "Proud Mary" kicks in. The Knicks dance team dances. Wildly. A little like Tina, but without the crazy grace and style she has. They're copying her moves. One blonde in front sticks out her tongue suggestively at Blair. He smiles in recognition. From the stands, Char gasps. "She's flirting with your boyfriend!" Blair is clearly digging the blonde's moves. He bobs his head and "wooo"s along. But come on, she's right in his face. If he ignored the dance team, I'd guess he were dead. Wow, Miranda is soooo jealous. She's fuming!

At the end of the game, Mir wants to leave without saying "hi" to Blair. Blair is busy talking to the Knicks dance blonde. Mir tentatively steps toward him, but then when the blonde wraps her arm around him for a big hug, she scurries back. Oh, Mir! You were so close!