Sex and the City
The Good Fight

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Alex Richmond: B | 1 USERS: A+
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They fight! And fight! And fight and fight and fight!

Is anyone else nauseated by the "what if...you found hope in the most unexpected places" promos HBO runs? With the swelling music and dialogue-free shots that are meant to imply great emotion and grand gestures that come from important moments in the human struggle? My b.f. said that they're as unreal as Velveeta. He said, "It's like in a movie when a character makes a speech, then there's silence, then one person starts clapping really slowly, then other people join in the clapping. That shit never happens." And none of us need to think we can find hope in a goddamn HBO show. Like, maybe it's a shame HBO can't win any Oscars, because you know they could woo the shit out of the Academy with a trailer like that. Boo fucking hoo.

Cha cha cha cha, the cre-dits, they have changed, doo doo doo doo, to ed-it out the towers...the xylophone barely noticed. But we did. Sigh. Cha cha, splashy bus.

A saxophone blows sultrily. You know what that means. S-E-X. Except, in this case, not. It means a montage of boxes crammed into Carrie's apartment. Yes, Aidan has moved in. Carrie VOs that two halves make a whole. The saxophone swells again. We zoom over boxes some more, and land at Carrie struggling to get through her front door. She VOs some more that "when two halves move in together, it makes a whole lot of stuff." Ba dump dump. She smooshes her way through the door and Aidan, parked at a desk-type thing, greets her with a "hey gumdrop, where ya been and whatcha been doing?" Sweet. Carrie, in black flip-flops, sheer white tee, black bra, and yellow slip skirt (anchor necklace gets a shout-out too) points out that Aidan's new workspace is blocking the bathroom door. Aidan points out there are two bathroom doors, and only one is blocked. Carrie anxiously says she needs both doors, since it's convenient and also an escape route from her bedroom should a rapist enter her bedroom window. She makes a "boing" noise for emphasis. Aidan says there's a lot of "boing-ing" going on in that bathroom. Yeah, there is. But better that than the sound of exploding ass. She's all, fix it fix it fix it! Now now now! He reminds her that the closing is next week and to chill. Out. She laughs it off with a "it's just boxes, right?" Then she sees a plant.

Breakfast with the girls brings this tirade: "A PLANT! The man brought a living thing into my apartment. He's taking over whole areas!" Miranda is all, "You said yes to moving in." Sam says this is why she's never lived with a man -- that, plus the fact she wants them out an hour after she climaxes. Mir is surprised that they get to stay a whole hour. Sam says most of her conquests can "go again after a quick catnap." Carrie is all, back to me now, and complains about Aidan greeting her with his "who'd you meet, whaddya know!" routine. She "needs time to decompress. To just be alone." She bobs her head, agreeing with herself. Oh, eff that, Carrie. Why'd you take the ring? Do you think most marrieds get to walk into an isolation booth when they arrive home? No. Family is other people. You're lucky to have one. Get used to it, oh selfish one. And I so rankle at the word "decompress," since an old b.f. used to use it. After almost every outing with that guy, before we went back to his place, he had to go to a diner, then watch about an hour of TV or so to "decompress" before going to bed. But if we went to my place? I didn't get to turn the TV on. Because it bugged him. Too high maintenance. And fussy. And it would usually result in us not having good sex. Because he had his own agenda, see? This same guy would have to play a theme song (usually the Buzzcocks or Bis) before GOING OUT, to "rev himself up" or some such nonsense. So I'd have my coat on, and he'd be, "Oh, just a minute," and he'd play his song and bop around while I stood there, waiting for him. I was embarrassed. Not making it up, people.

Anyway, Charlotte points out that living together usually requires a period of adjustment. Carrie says she misses walking into her empty apartment and having that time for her S.S.B., or "secret single behavior." Sam is all, "Like masturbate?" No, Carrie means eating a bunch of crackers with jelly or whatever. Char says she used to examine her pores for an hour each night before Trey and she got hitched. Mir says she likes to deep-condition her hands and watch infomercials. Hee. I know I'll eat less cheese doodles when my b.f. moves in. They are the stupidest, most artificial snack ever. It'll be salsa and chips from then on. Baked chips. With soy protein. Really. Sam says she has no such quirks, and does nothing she wouldn't want a man to see. Mir believes her. So do I. That woman is shameless, and I mean that in a good way. Besides, it's not like she ever home-waxes or anything. Her phone rings, and it's Dick, a.k.a. Richard, her boss whom she screwed on the plane. All the girls look very interested as she complains that it's Sunday, but she'll drop off those papers in an hour since he needs them so badly. Carrie is all, "Skyrockets in flight, afternoon delight?" More like "boom, boom, boom, let's go back to my room." But Sam insists it's just work. And she doesn't want to talk about it. Say it with them, people. "WOOOOO! Samantha likes a guy!" They tease her. Sam gives up one detail -- that she loves Dick's dick. "It's long, pink, perfect. It's dick-a-licious!" Carrie is all, back to me now, again: "What about Aidan's stuff?"

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