Sex and the City
Boy, Interrupted

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Delicious nuts

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.

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Sex and the City

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