First off, many, many thanks to Miss Cindy L. Cup Choy of HI. She knows why. I really appreciate everything!
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.
A French accordion wheezes tunefully. Carrie skips across a rain-slicked street in a sheer pink top, black full skirt and heels, and a lovely tan raincoat, VO-ing about how being single in New York is oh so very much fun. Particularly when it isn't men or dating you're thinking of, but rather the museums and galleries and restaurants. Wasn't it just last season that Carrie ate out by herself? She's come a long way, baby. A yellow cab slides in front of her like a shark -- she lets it pass and hops into a twinkly-lit movie theater, at which Joie Pour Deux is playing. Heh. Get it? But she's psyched to be seeing a movie about Gay Paree, even though she is just une.
Alone, Carrie takes in the movie, gobbles Whoppers, and smiles. It's true -- going to movies alone rules. Aww, she's so happy!
Lunch the next day with her three best friends, however, wipes the smile right off Carrie's face. Samantha is still mightily pissed at Richard, who, may I say expositionally, was the first man Sam loved and the first to smash her heart to a million little pieces. He keeps leaving her "'I'm sorry' messages," but she is not about to forgive a guy she caught "eating another girl's pussy." Word. Charlotte blanches at the use of such vulgarities in front of Miranda's baby, Brady. Mir looks startled and says, "Nothing has to change. Just think of this as a big purse!" And she holds up Brady in his little seat. Yes, a purse -- a purse with needs. A purse that will eventually leave home. A purse that may help to support you someday -- and sorry, no other purse appreciates in value quite like that. Not the Fendi baguette, not the Dior saddlebag, not the massive Balenciaga leather sling. Maybe Louis Vuitton luggage would pay for itself, if you don't knock it around too much. Carrie points out that Mir's "purse" just spit up. Sam rages on that after three weeks, Richard might have noticed that Sam isn't returning his calls and that "it's not okay to eat another woman's pussy!" Char is all, "Sam!" Because of the baby. Carrie, ever the clever wordsmith, suggests calling it "eating another woman's 'sushi.'" Good one! Char asks what Carrie did last night. She went to the movies -- alone. Char screeches, "On DATE NIGHT!?" Carrie asks if "[they're] going to have to call it that in [their] fifties." Oh, word. Saturday night is amateur night, when everyone and their mother goes out. Char is wearing the cutest black short-sleeved top ever, by the way, and says she couldn't go to a movie alone because she's afraid people would pity her. Oy, center of the universe much? Carrie begins to pontificate on How Great It Is To Be Single In The City, Because The City Is Your Date. Mir says dryly, "You're dating the city?" Carrie says breathily, "It's getting serious." She thinks she's "in love." Aww. Char snaps at Sam to quit checking her messages, thus still involving herself emotionally with Richard. Move on! And besides, Char read in a magazine that you "only get two great loves in your life," so Richard was one down. Mir asks what magazine this was, "Convenient Theories For You Monthly?" Oh yeah, I love that tome! That one and Your Bullshit Validated are great. Mir points out that when Char was married, she spouted that you only get one great love. Char blathers on that "great love" is "rare," and what "great love" means is one "that forever changes you, that shakes you to the core." Like a ride on the Tilt-a-Whirl? The gang goes around and checks names off the list -- Mir has had "none," Sam had Richard, Char had Trey, and Carrie? "Refuse[s] to define love in those limited terms." Char pushes until we get her checklist: Big and Aidan, one-two. Oh, snap. Oh, dip. Carrie, according to Convenient Theories For You Monthly, is fresh out of core-shaking, forever-changing Great Loves, capital G capital L. Sucks to be her. Char tries to backpedal, but it's too late. Carrie writes her epitaph: "She had two great loves and lots o' shoes." Sam drops her fork with a clatter and says, "Fuck love!" Without missing a beat she turns to Char and says, "I gave you 'sushi,' I need 'fuck.'" I missed this show.
Post-lunch, the girls roam the park. I love how they all have fall outfits on but it so isn't near fall yet. And I know this is supposed to be last year, but I know they're shooting now and oy, isn't SJP hot in that stripey mohair turtleneck? No wonder she was nauseated. ["And Fleet Week is always in June, so…I don't know." -- Sars] Mir sets her Brady purse down to switch arms. Sam rolls her eyes for a microsecond, then sees a heavenly vision. "Anchors Away" starts oom-pah-pah-ing in the background. Sam hollers, "Look, seamen!" Mir sighs and says she hopes she sees sailors. And she does. It's Fleet Week in NYC! Yeow, they are handsome. Sam's "favorite holiday!" The "antidote to Valentine's Day!" And a reason to party with cute guys in uniform. Carrie says that tripping on her heels in Times Square looking for a cute sailor to kiss is over for her -- "that ship has sailed." Har de har har. But "it's [their] patriotic duty as women of New York to show them a good time!" Subtle. Carrie says that a better patriotic duty is to throw some money around downtown. Mir says she forgot the Snugli. Sam practically throws Mir into a cab, and the three girls are off. Mir watches them shrink away in the cab's rear window. Aww. Having kids changes you. And anvils are big and heavy.