Carrie and Mir walk down the sidewalk. Mir vents that Blair said I love you "on a cookie...then I panicked and ate the entire thing. If it wasn't there, I wouldn't have to deal with it." Mir says it wasn't the message, but the medium. I have to agree. Who says they love someone for the first time via a cookie? Or any other baked goods? Treats should not be the vehicle for expressing important emotions. I think the best time to tell someone you love them is after a faintly unpleasant chore, like moving a desk up three flights of stairs. If you can get through that, what's every other bump in the road. You think I'm kidding. Carrie says that Blair is in fact "perfect," but Mir seems a little doubtful. She agrees that he is being super-cute in helping to plan Brady's first birthday party, at which Steve's Maaa will probably put in an appearance. Carrie asks if there will be any clowns. "There is nothing scarier than a clown." That reminds me of the TWoP recapper convention in Las Vegas one year, when we dragged Jessica to Circus Circus completely against her will and tortured her by pointing out all the creepy clown art. And by we I mean "me." And that's not the only thing that's scary about that casino. Circus Circus is so ghetto that a C right on front of the building burned out, and it stayed unlit all night. We're talking "Circus Ircus." In Las Vegas. They didn't even care. Could you see that happening at Caesar's Palace? That's my point; it's ghetto.
Lunch minus Charlotte begins. Samantha takes out reading glasses (Chanel, she says), and says to Carrie's smiling face that yes, she needs glasses, and she has a young man who loves to fuck her, and she's fabulous. Mir asks if she's thought of putting that on a t-shirt. I'd wear it. Only because it's all true. Carrie asks if they've heard of Misha before. Mir is all, who? But Ye Olde Tymer Sam ("forty-fucking-five!") says he was the shit back at Studio 54. Wow, no cobwebs even. He looks good for 53. Carrie just says, "He was odd." Well, maybe he wasn't as COMICAL as you, my dear.
Char sits down, grinning like a jack-o-lantern. With good reason. She's pregnant. Three weeks! The table erupts in congrats and ebullient smiles. Sam says, "Oh my god." Then, she excuses herself and scratches her crotch. Then she explains that she's "growing it out," meaning her pubic hair. "Smith enjoys a full bush." Charming. Dignified, even. Char still glows. "Everything is exactly like it always was, but I'm pregnant!" Way to go, Charlotte.