Credits. Cha cha. Splashy bus.
Carrie VOs that she's been dating "the Russian" for two months, and they've reached a "relationship benchmark so rare that [she] didn't even know it existed." Alek gives her the security code to his apartment. This is all so lame on so many levels. An automated alarm keypad code? Is a "rare relationship benchmark"? And this is like he's giving her a key to his heart or something? Oh. Oh. Seriously, Carrie is so lame.
Carrie continues to kvell as he produces her a set of keys he had his assistant make for her. Oh, wow. The key-giving is a little intense. Recently I got really drunk and thought about giving my, um, partner a set. But I was really drunk, and I regretted saying it later, much like I regretted telling the bald guy with the muttonchops in overalls at the local bar that I thought he looked handsome. Well, maybe I was only embarrassed for being so drunkenly gushy, when I had no intention of backing my statements up with anything solid. Carrie finishes blabbering about reaching a "new level of security" in her relationship, and I roll my eyes for the third time in two minutes. Maybe I should get a koosh ball to hurl at the screen every time Carrie annoys me. Maybe I should get a case of them.
Carrie finishes gushing, "And then he gave me the security code to his apartment! Like it was NOTHING!" Then we see who she's talking to; it's Sam, in an open-front hospital gown. Oh my dogg, Carrie is nattering about THAT when Sam's having a post-lumpectomy breast exam? Annoying! Carrie asks if Sam really wants to hear about this, and Sam says emphatically, "Yes." Come on, now. Hey, Samantha Jones, with cancer, wouldn't you want to talk about what you're going through right now? I mean, what better way to connect with all the 180,000 women that have breast cancer in America today than to describe what you're feeling. rather than hear Carrie's bullshit? Twice? Carrie's in green bellbottom pants and red Marc Jacobs heels, and a shrunken brown blazer. Sam's in the gown, bellbottom pants that are Homer Simpson blue, and orange-y red stilettos. Sam's all, so, Petrovsky? Carrie excitedly describes how Big made her beg for a key in front of his doorman, and Alek was all, here's the key and keycode, babeski! Sam's smiling at her and touching her neck like she wants to strangle herself. Carrie slobbers, "Did I tell you about the extra robe in the bathroom?" Sam says perkily, "Is it as nice as this one?" Her paper gown is limp and awful. Carrie says hers is definitely nicer. Shut up, Carrie.
Sam's doctor walks in imperiously. Carrie jumps at attention like she's Gomer Pyle or something. Well, goll-lly! It's a doctor and stuff! He says he has good news: the scans are clean, and Sam's classified at stage one. Sam's all, "That's the best, right?" Yes, it's the Chanel of cancer types. The Hermes, the Dom Perignon. The doctor recommends a round of "chemo" anyway, "just to be safe." Sam doesn't really like that idea too much. Then the guy feels her boob to see how the healing process is coming along. She says, "I don't understand what happened to me," and she honestly sounds like she doesn't. How can you explain cancer? The doctor casually explains that it could be genetic, except Sam doesn't have any instances of cancer in her family, so it could be "diet or lifestyle choices." Sam's all, how's that? Well, the doctor says in that maddeningly, smug, indisputable way, statistically, "women who haven't had children are more likely to get certain types of cancer." Sam's all, excuse me? "So I brought this on myself?" Uh oh. I understand how angry she is immediately. When I was 16, a doctor sat me down and told me that studies had shown that going on the pill reduces certain types of breast cancer. Now, the pill is to be used as birth control. Women with very heavy periods sometimes take it to regulate their flow. But I never heard of anyone taking the pill because it might statistically reduce their chances of developing certain kinds of breast cancer. It's ridiculous! And this guy is telling Sam to get chemo even though all her scans are fine, and then suggesting that her childless self is at least partially responsible for growing this cancer! Sam draws herself up and says she's going to a woman doctor -- "a HOT woman doctor, who understands what THIS" -- she gestures to her torso in a grand, circular gesture -- "is ALL ABOUT!" She turns away to get dressed, then whirls back to face him and says, "You're lucky to have touched my breasts!" GO SAM GO! Sam grabs her coat, orders Carrie to grab her purse, fixes the doctor with another stern look, then sweeps out. Carrie practically curtseys to the doctor. "Nice to meet you."
Lunch with the girls. Sam is mightily pissed. She's pizzissed! She feels she should be "rewarded" for her lifestyle choice. "Since when does kids equal a Get Out Of Cancer Free card?" Heh. She correctly interprets her doctor's suggestion as a slightly more scientific version of what certain people (not me) on the forums have been saying: "I'm a whore, therefore I need chemo." Of course not, Sam. But people love to talk. And judge. So why should she get chemo, again? Sam says, "'Cause he's an asshole." Carrie says there could be something microscopic. Sam intones, "Like his dick." Carrie, ever the annoying prude, asks if Sam has cancer or Tourette's. God, shut up, Carrie! Your friend is going through something very serious -- life-threatening, even -- and you're offended by her language now? Or do you just hate when you're not the center of attention? This meaty scene should be all about Sam. Instead we get the knee-jerk reactions of a skinny twit. Sam says she's getting a new doctor, a woman. Dr. Andrews, top-rated oncologist by the loathsome New York magazine. Sam's trying to get in. Um, New York magazine? The same mag that had Carrie on the cover, looking like S-H-I-T? I thought Sam declared a boycott on that rag. Oh well. How quickly we forget.
Miranda gets up and announces reluctantly that she's taking a long weekend, so she has to get back to the office. Carrie is all, hold on there. Is this your honeymoon? Mir says dourly that she's going on a "whatever" with Steve. Her honeymooooon. Cue Charlotte's tearful squeals. Since Mir already gave Magda the time off, they're bringing Brady. Char says it's not a real honeymoon, then. Mir repeats that it's a "whatever." What could Magda be doing for four days? Mir mutters that maybe she's going to "Nanny-palooza." Oh, gawd. That's so lame. Char begs and begs to take care of Brady. Carrie says she's the godmother; she can take care of him part-time for a bit, too. Mir is all, "You guys would do that?" Um, godmothers? Are the on-call moms in case the real mom checks out. So yeah, they would. Carrie SHOULD. Sam says she wouldn't. Smith is coming back from L.A., and "I've always chosen sex over babies, and that's apparently why I got cancer!"
The day, Carrie steps precariously down her front stoop in high heels, a mini, white gloves, and a hat that looks like she's going to be driving a locomotive in a moment. She's got Brady and the stroller in tow, too. Wow -- walking with a toddler en stroller in heels? That's advanced. I never did that. Platform wedges, yes. Adidas, of course. Stilettos? Never. A mom avec stroller swishes by Carrie and gives her a look that's part sympathetic, part "Are you crazy? Stilettos?" Carrie's pink glittery phone rings; it's Char. Carrie gushes that she was "just mistaken for a mother, by a mother." Carrie, I've been calling you a mother for years now. Guess the suffix that follows "mother-." Char is surrounded by a tower of applesauce cups and animal crackers. Carrie says they're going to Alek's house for the afternoon. Char worries herself into a lather about the place's possible pointy edges and potential death-trappiness. Carrie says sunnily that they're going to strap a pillow to the boy and hope for the best. Yeah! Take that, applesauce cups!
Did you know about those 1970s coats that have trim that looks like fur? Well, it's actually human fur. Beaver fur, if you get what I mean by "beaver." Like, if you didn't dance well enough on Soul Train? You were sacrificed to God Don Cornelius and made into a coat. Or if you made a porno that nobody watched? Out come the trimmers. Some of these coats still exist. And I think Samantha is wearing one right now. Hers is gold leather with a very healthy "beaver" pelt. And gold knee-high boots, great gosh-a-mighty! Scary. Sam leans over the reception desk, and though I am loath to call a woman I don't know mannish, the receptionist? Is on the Herman Munster side of the family. Everyone on the forums, again, was saying that this actress is a member of a comedy troupe and has made several of her students cry. Part of the process? Perhaps. Total bitch? Could be. Looks like Elvira after a three-day bender in which she went under the knife and woke up in Mexico with her already-big clitoris, um, even bigger? I'm just sayin'. Sam drops names mightily and mentions the charity events she's thrown and the doctor's peers that she's blown and all that. Receptionist is not. Budging. The doctor is booked until March. Sam asks who she "has to fuck to get chemo around here!" Receptionist is all, "Excuse me?" Come on, Herman, you heard her. Receptionist says firmly, "March." Sam decides to sit and wait for an opening that very day.
Hey, it's Pat! Julia Sweeney! Who wrote a book about cancer, God Said, "Ha!". Good casting. She's in a somber black suit, and leans forward to Sam and says she's been waiting since 9 AM -- for the last two days -- and hasn't gotten in. No one's gotten in. And if anyone gets in, it's gonna be her, Julia. Sam isn't thrown by this. She's getting in. Once, in the '70s, someone told her she couldn't get in to see Mick Jagger. Well, she did. "And I blew him." Julia makes a face like, "Ew, gross." Word. And, I'm jealous. Sam can't help but ask about Julia's status: childless, or saddled with rugrats? Julia says she's a nun. Sam repeats, "You have none." No. She is a nun. Sans habit. And no, she can't fly or play guitar. She's learning to fly! And she does love to put twelve little girls in two straight lines. Sam properly deduces that "no kids" and "nun" means "no sex." Ever. Yup, nuns are not exactly known for getting laid. Except for that Agnes of God. She was a pistol, that one! Sam lets this sink in for a moment. Her doctor's words "lifestyle choice" may have only referred to her not having kids, not banging every handsome dude in a suit above 14th Street. Why, the same bitter little phrase, "lifestyle choice," could have been said to this nun over here! Sam just has one more question. "Are you allowed to masturbate?" Sister Julia is all, "I never asked! Thanks for getting my mind off cancer for the first time in a week!" Heh.
God help me from these awful "comedy" "bits." Carrie opens the door to Alek's apartment, and Brady toddles inside. Instantly, he heads for the most delicate, smashable thing -- the crystal vase with daffodils inside -- and smashes it. Then, the alarm keeps sounding, and the baby keeps crying. Carrie? Stop whining and saying, "Ooh! ooh! What what what what!" Because she can't remember the alarm code. Four numbers are really hard to remember, yo. Alek comes in from his studio and rescues her, then plays with Brady until he giggles and squeals in that totally adorable baby way. Carrie says seeing Alek with a baby was "disarming." Yeah, men who are good with kids are rare.
It's the honeymeh! Miranda and Steve lounge in bed, nude. Hey, I forgot Steve had such a hot body! Hello there. What an ass. You could bounce a quarter off that thing. Mir says, "That was really great. Now what?" Steve laughs and says they should just lay there and relax. Oh, boy. That is so not Miranda's style. So she gets up to unpack. Steve flips over, and though I rewind and pause the TiVo forever, I do not see his package. Just that wonderful ass of his. Mir is distraught to see that there's no TV or radio. Then she calms down. There's a CD player, with a CD. She puts it on and it's so bad, it's almost whale songs. It's practically womb noises. It's some kind of pan flute hybrid dedicated to the mountain which they are presently atop. You know, if I were stranded on my honeymeh and I was a type-A person like Miranda, which I am, I would be thanking god that I packed ten books with me. Why didn't Miranda pack ten books with her? Or at least the backlog of New Yorkers (not New York) lying around? I mean, come on. Vacation means books. At the TWoP recapper's summit, I roomed with Gustave, and we each packed three books and then traded with each other for our trips home. And we each had magazines, and tabloids. I still have his copy of Running With Scissors, which I really enjoyed. So, Miranda? Come on. You're a smart woman. Well, listening to that music is probably lowering the IQ of the room. Then, she really panics: She forgot her cell phone charger. Steve says she doesn't need it. Um, what about the baby? You know, checking in? Oh well, it's just a show.
Alex helps Brady finger-paint. God, it's ADORABLE. Except for the fact that Carrie sitting there, agog at the natural way Alek engages the little one. Oh, and he had a vasectomy, so DON'T LOOK AT HIM. That's fun, to see Carrie's hopes get all shattered like the vase. Wow, a guy that digs her (bad), and now can't provide her with the kids she didn't want! Oh, and there's this: He's already HAD children! From a marriage! When will she dump this guy? That's Carrie's real biological clock: the one that makes sure she does something self-destructive on a regular basis. So, Alek asks, why didn't Carrie ever have kids? She "never got around to it." It's something she "always wanted to do." Alek asks casually, "When were you planning to do this...what are you, thirty-eight?" POW. That statement, not rude at all, was so blunt that even I, miles from thirty-eight, felt it. Oh, the honesty. Sometimes, when we touch? The honesty's too much. And I have to hamn mah nahm, and craaaaah. Yeah, that's all I remember from that song. AM gold, man.
Carrie and Char hang at the park. Carrie eats a giant black and white cookie while she wears this incredibly hideous brown shearling jacket with a hand-painted back and Ugg boots, which go really well with her ugg face. She's wearing this horrific nightmare of an outfit as she and Char talk about having babies. Char is all, he had a whaaat? Da svedanya or whatever! Carrie isn't too sure about that. "Men like him don't come along too often." The other issue is whether Carrie is a baby person or not. She's never had time. She doesn't even have time to eat the huge cookie. Char asks how the huge cookie is. "It's so good I forgot to have children." Heh. Char makes more "time's awastin' so have them babies" comments, and Carrie aptly notes that it was never really a priority before. She lists her priorities. "I wanted to be a writer, I made myself a writer! I want a ridiculously extravagant pair of shoes, I find a way to buy them." Char says this is different; she was waiting for the right man and the right time. Yeah. Carrie can see that. Except for the extreme possibility that she just never wanted kids. Char argues, "Why should you give up having a baby for a man you hardly know?" Carrie shoots back, "Why should I give up a man for a baby I hardly know I want?" Seriously, Char. You're arguing for what you want, not for what Carrie wants. And Carrie? Doesn't even know what she wants. Char frowns and says she thinks Carrie is a "closeted baby person" and that she hopes Carrie has a baby. She's "still got a few years left." I'm not so sure. Carrie has a ways to go before she even seriously thinks about raising kids. I mean, to go from "should I?" to "let's!" is a long journey. Well, it should be, at least. It's called family PLANNING, not family right now when it occurred to me at age 38. And since Alek has had a vasectomy and kids already, looks like she found The Reason(s) To Break Up with him. Which is probably what she wants, since she's never chosen to be happy in her entire life. Except for all the little shoe-gasms.
Honeymeh. Mir and Steve are in a tub laden with bubbles. The ersatz whale song CD tootles in the background. There's a bottle of Veuve Cliquot, rose petals on the suds, a roaring fireplace. Um...excuse me? I don't see a polar bear rug, or a heart-shaped tub. What the fuck IS this? Kidding. Steve says that he wants to wash Miranda's hair. He's always wanted to do that. "Y'know, like Out of Africa." There was syphilis in that, too. And roaring lions. That movie was kind of depressing. I mean, would you say to someone, "Let's make French toast, like in Kramer vs. Kramer! Then we can go play in the park!" Or, "Hey, wanna go dancing and drinking and then play on the Brooklyn Bridge, like in Saturday Night Fever? Awesome!" I never forget the depressing parts of movies. It's what makes them real! Anyway, Mir and Steve's bathos turns to pathos as he washes her hair with "heart soap" and it gets in her eye. "Ow. Ow! Heart soap in my eye!" Hee! Classic.
The morning, Miranda makes a desperate cell phone to Carrie, standing outside in this Elmer Fudd furry hat and a coat over her negligee. It's so campy. I half expect to see Bugs Bunny stroll by dressed as Cary Grant and attempt to seduce her, or Wile E. Coyote and that sheep dog punch out and eat lunch together. Mir says the whole trip is "screaming" that "sex is the only thing on the itinerary." She complains that the night before, she and Steve "held hands for an hour. He was looking into my eyes. I was looking for the remote." Hee! Mir says, "It feels good to be sarcastic. You can't be sarcastic on your honeymoon!" Carrie asks about the "motherhood thing: All it's cracked up to be?" Mir hears a rustle in the bushes and gets ready to go. "I should be able to do this, this should be the most romantic time in my life!" Then a pause. More rustling. Mir's final thought? "Raccoon."
We follow Carrie's PowerBook cord to the place where it lives, namely Carrie's PowerBook. She VOs and types, and oh boy, I'm not going to miss this part of the show when it is over. Carrie wonders if "should" is another disease plaguing women, if peer pressure comes from within, and "why are we shoulding all over ourselves?" Carrie? You're a perpetual ditherer. When have you ever taken a "should"? I'd say you're pretty blocked up.
Sam and Smith leave a premiere party together, and for once Sam isn't up for facing the cameras. She tells Smith she's gonna leave first, then maybe meet him later on. He asks if he's done anything wrong. Wow, you practically catch your girlfriend fucking her ex, then you wonder if you're doing something wrong? Yikes. Sam takes a deep breath and tells him about her cancer. His face looks pained, like he was punched. Then the cameras flash and the paparazzi call, "Smith, Smith!"
Carrie flops on her tummy and asks about Alek's child. "How old is...?" Alek finishes with "she." And she's 22. Chloe. She lives in Paris, with her mom. Mom and Alek were married for seven years. He pulls out some photos to show Carrie. Carrie tries to angle the conversation back to what she wants. "So, why only one child?" Alek likes his life the way he likes it, and besides, he "lucked out with Chloe." Carrie "hmms" and looks wistful.
Drinks with Sam. Sam's in this zebra jacket that is so Edwina, it's not even funny. Carrie says that being confronted with the life she'll never have with Alek "wrapped up in a box" made her wonder, and she regrets saying this to someone with cancer, but "Why me?" Sam says, "Let 'er rip." Wow, Sam is such a gem. Who else with cancer could listen to this shit? Sam makes the point that there are many fabulous things in life that don't involve children. Carrie thinks about it, then makes a list. "Sex, travel, comfort, love, and extraordinary adventures." Sam says, "Not too shabby." Carrie notes that she's "only been invited in as far as a security code and a robe." Oh, so now the level of security you never reached with a man isn't good enough? Carrie: she's never happy. Sam starts saying "no" repeatedly, as Carrie arrives at her conclusion: Can she ask Alek to love her enough to make up for the fact that she forgot to have kids? Sam says, "No no no no no no NO!" Hee. Carrie says, "It's too early in the relationship to have this conversation, and it's too late in my life not to. It's a catch-38." Car 54, where are you? There's a crazy lady who doesn't know what she wants at table five, and she keeps making choices that make her unhappy. Seriously, this show could not have a happy ending. It has to end quizzically. Or maybe the ending will be Brady's name change to Brady Hobbes-Brady. Which would make a lot of people exhale, for some reason.
Harry and Charlotte do it. Then Brady pops up in his crib, giggling. Char screams. Oh no! The baby saw them doing it! She calls Mir in a panic. Mir, glumly poking the fire, leaps for her phone. "Spit it out, do I need to come home?" Char hisses that Brady saw them having sex. Mir says Brady "doesn't even know where his nose is," let alone what he was looking at. Harry walks in and says, "I think it may be too late, he just said 'sex is dirty.'" Mir says Char sounds tense, and maybe she should come home. She still has one bar left on her cell phone, and "Nooooo!!" Steve wakes up, hears about Char's momentary panic, and entreats Mir to come back to bed. Mir snaps that she "can't have sex anymore. [She] has a brain." Steve knows this already. She misses ESPN and NPR and Dateline and she is not the honeymoon type! Steve says well, he is, and four days isn't that long to lie around and read books and loll and make love. It's all the time he had off from work. Mir looks sad at this fact, and Carrie VOs that Mir just learned about another "should -- the things you should do for the people you love." She apologizes and says she's an asshole. Steve agrees, then says, "But you're MY asshole." Heh. Ew. "Sweet and gross at the same time." So they make love again, because they're leaving in the morning and "the honeymoon's over." Steve snaps, "Hey! I got a brain, you know!" Really? IN my house, all we can think about is your ass.
Sam waits in the oncologist's office in a smart red suit with a honking jet-black poodle pin (or is it a lion? So hard to tell) on the lapel. She seems to have forgotten her blouse. No need; it'll expedite the breast exam. Sister Julia walks in with a habit on. Sam stares, then whispers, "Pulling out all the stops, eh?" Julia shrugs, "What else could I wear, a big tumor?" Hee. Sam stands up and strides to the manly Receptionist, who's reading the newspaper. She begins her litany of name-dropping ("my friend, who's the features editor at Vanity Fair...") and Receptionist cuts her off at the pass. Until she sees Page Six, with the "Smith Shocker" headline and the big color (!) photo of Sam and Smith looking shocked at the paparazzi. Receptionist is agog. Sam is Smith Jerrod's girlfriend? Could she bring him into the office so Receptionist could meet him? And of COURSE Sam can get in to see the doctor! Sam agrees, as long as Sister Julia can have a consultation too. Both appointments are scheduled. Nun at 7:45, Sam at 8 AM. Sister Julia is overjoyed. "Oh my god!" Sam says no: "Oh my boyfriend!"
Carrie and Alek walk on the pier. The seagulls scream, and I am instantly transported back to Danny Drennan's writing about . Remember, the beach house? And how the seagulls never shut up? It's almost meta. She's in this blue velvet coat, oatmeal colored skirt and gloves, and a pink knit hat that I'm sure Rita Marley wore in a life. I think she beat up Strawberry Shortcake for it. Then Strawberry Shortcake got all disillusioned and started freebasing cocaine with Underdog, because she had a hole in her heart. She missed that big ol' pink hat. Then Rita Marley never got a hit, and gave the hat to Goodwill. Years later, Pat Field found it, and plopped it on Carrie's head. And now, she's wearing it, and trying to have this really serious conversation with Alek. So, that vasectomy, could it be reversed? No. Not for him. She nods and gets quiet. Carrie says she knows it's too early to say these things, but she's gonna say them. She could "really be" with Alek, and she needs to know, because she's 38, so...she's 38. Alek says, "Thirty-eight is young." Then he says, "I could really be with you as well. But I know who I am. And I won't change my mind. I'm simply too old for that. Being a parent is an extraordinary thing...you should have everything you want." Carrie listens to this, then says she's cold. He wraps her in his arms, in his coat. They look out onto the river. She VOs that she still doesn't know what she wants, but that she's "getting warmer."