Charlotte and Harry emerge from the Tasti-Delight (she's got butter pecan, in a cup, with chocolate topping). She's recalling the ickful details of Carrie's romantic evening with Aleksandr. "It's like something out of a Victorian novel!" Harry is not impressed. Oh, he can do better? "It's not just for foo-foo foreigners." He offers to wine and dine her, baby. Give him another taste of that Tasti-Delight. Woo hoo! Date night.
Steve and Miranda round the corner, lugging massive Duane Reed bags. Carrie VOs, "And from licking to lugging." Oh. My. Fucking. GOD. How much do I hate Carrie's voice-overs? There are no words. It stops me dead in my recapping tracks. Ugh. I'll try to resume. Mir, Steve, walking with bags. She's ranting about how she wants their wedding to "feel like us," not like "all those cookie-cutter weddings" she's been to in her life. That's fair. I'm sure all the characters that invited Mir to their "cookie-cutter weddings" were aiming for the most generic, undistinctive events ever. Who wants that day to be special, anyway? Steve suggests a boat ride around Manhattan. Mir scoffs. Her Duane Reed bag breaks, and she curses, "Shit! This is SO us! We should get married right here in this mess." Steve's shoe is stuck to a huge wad of red chewing gum. He finds this comical. Mir, picking up boxes of over-the-counter meds, looks to her right and sees a little sign that reads, "This Is A Community Garden Project." Hey. Heeeyyy. She doesn't hate it! We have a wedding site!
Carrie, Sam, and Charlotte shop for a gift for Miranda, the anti-bride. Carrie has some weird pink snug-ugly scarf thing on her head. It looks like a stuffed animal carcass. Char finds a sweet white heart-shaped dish. Carrie says, "Too bride-y." Sam suggests, "Let's try not to piss her off." Char gets a little hysterical and says, "Well, why don't we buy her a stapler and wrap it in brown paper, and smear dog poop on it!" Or you could get that paper that's made from elephant dung. It smells less. Hey, what's brown and sounds like a bell? Dung. I'm sorry.
Sam takes a few steps toward the center of the store and says she has an announcement. One that her friends may not like. Carrie growls that if Samantha gets married too and leaves her all alone, she'll kill her. No, it's not that. Sam says she's always liked her body. "I have fantastic legs, killer abs. My ass is perfection!" Mm-hmm. But. She's "always wanted bigger boobs." Sidebar: I'm recapping right now with my roomie, The Little Girl, parked on the couch. I pause the TiVo just as Sam says she wants bigger boo...and the screen shot of Kim Cattrall forever in moue cracks The Little Girl up. Of course, she's also flying on Vicodin she scored (legally) after getting a kidney stone, but there you go. Bigger boooo...infinity. Bigger booo...merangs. I mean, "-oobs." Boobs. Char and Carrie are surprised. Sam had a "reality call, in the form of paparazzi shots in In Touch magazine." There's five days worth of candid snaps of Sam and Smith Jerrod, and in all of them, Sam's boobs look "teeny-tiny." Carrie snipes at Sam for going to Planet Hollywood. Oh, for fuck's sake. It was probably for an event, you troll. Char says, "You are a confident, intelligent woman. Why would you want to look like a bimbo?" Word. Smaller breasts look better in clothes, and are classier all around. The bigger-boobed of the world have to overcome the stereotype that we're dumber. Life, she is so unfair. The boobless want boobs, and the boobed ones just want to be treated with a little respect. Or we want bigger tips. Either way. Sam says she wants boobs like Carrie's. This point is lost on me, because for a visual, we have Carrie in a denim jacket with that horrid pink panther scarf wrapped around herself. Meaning, we can't see her boobs. Char protests. What about her boobs? Sam makes a grab for them, and Char squeals, "Okay, get hers!" Carrie nods, satisfied. It's a very Donna Martin moment. Though Donna would have probably let Sam grab her boobs.