Predictably, Stanford reminisces about the song "William wants a doll" -- the song that teaches you that it's okay for boys to play with dolls. Oooh. That brings back painful memories. When I first heard this song, I didn't exactly know I was gay, but I did have that vague feeling that most nubile gay boys did that I was "not like other boys," and this song seemed to be speaking directly to me in a way that made me feel uncomfortable. I also take issue with the fact that William is portrayed as some boy who is simply "more nurturing" than his male counterparts. Bullshit! As a child, I played with dolls, but only so I could dress them up in fabulous clothes and do stuff to their hair. As a gay boy, I was hardly any more "nurturing" than my straight friends. I was just…gay. Anyway, Stanford brags that he played that song so many times, he almost turned his sister into a gay man. See, I nearly turned my sister into a lesbian. There wasn't a lot of money in my family back then, and I wanted to go to an expensive college that we couldn't afford. I figured that if Gabrielle graduated from high school with this intense desire to, say, join the army or the police academy, the lion's share of our college fund would be mine, all mine. I gave her Holly Near albums and a subscription to Sports Illustrated. Didn't work.
Anyway, they finally arrive at the groovy loft where the party is getting started. They are greeted by Margo, Kyra's sister, who is a poor man's Alicia Witt. She explains that the gifts go on the table and the shoes go "over there," and points to a big pile of shoes by the door. Carrie gets the same look on her face that Meryl Streep got in Auschwitz when the Gestapo guy told her she could keep either her son or her daughter. Margo explains that Kyra and Chuck don't like outside dirt being tracked inside. "The twins are always picking things off the floor," she explains brightly. "This…is…an…outfit," says Carrie, holding her big present above her head so that Margo can take in the total composition of her mauve fitted halter top, black bra, and bottle-green skirt that curiously makes her look like she doesn't have a waist. And strangely, the camera doesn't pan down to include the shoes so that we, the viewers, can see what kind of miracle work the shoes do for this ensemble. "They'd really appreciate it," says PoorMan'sAliciaWitt in a perky yet aggressive manner before running off to attend to something. "Good thing I wore my party socks," says Stanford, following orders. "If I'd known I was going to have to go shoeless, I'd have compensated with a big hat," retorts Carrie. Oh, like Carrie needs an excuse like mandatory shoelessness to wear something insane. Tell me another one! A close-up reveals Carrie's feet leaving the glorious confines of a pair of pearly Manolo Blahniks. "Now I'm so teeny, I might bump my head on the coffee table," says Carrie, feeling less-than without her spike heels. Carrie explains in a voice-over that Kyra, the mother being "showered," used to be famous in the early nineties for "taking pictures of anorexic actresses on beds at the Chelsea Hotel." I take that as a shout-out to Nan Golding and/or Corrine Day. "But now," says Carrie, "she takes pictures of fat babies in buckets."
Kyra enters, and the guest star playing her is none other than Academy-Award-winning actress Tatum O'Neal. She greets Carrie and Stanford, gives them a couple of drinks in martini glasses, makes a snarky remark about her husband's ear piercing from the eighties, and runs off to get drinks for the other guests. "And by 'guests,'" she says conspiratorially. "I mean 'me.'" You see, Tatum may be a mother, but she still drinks. Meanwhile, according to a friend of mine who used to color her hair, the real Tatum is a mother who still does heroin. When she leaves, Stanford and Carrie notice that their drinks are "garnished" with tiny plastic babies. "Waiter," says Stanford. "There's a baby in my drink." Save it for the Catskills, Stan.