Carrie reads the paper in Berger's apartment as he putters around getting ready for breakfast with a bunch of writer friends. He'd invite her along, but they're a "rather pathetic bunch." Carrie assures him that he's not pathetic. His phone rings, and he heads out the door without acknowledging it. She's all, you gonna get that? He thinks it can only be one word: Telemarketer. Carrie thinks it's a "two-word hyphenate." Oh, ha ha, writers. They love to talk about words. And shit. The machine picks up; it's Lauren. She wants to talk to Berger, so would he call her later? He flips off the machine first with one finger, then both. "Fuck you, and FUCK YOU!" Then, to Carrie: "Bye-bye!" Carrie looks at him, horrified. I totally crack up.
Carrie rehashes the situation with Sam as they walk down the sidewalk. Carrie doesn't want there to be a "double-finger situation" with her b.f.'s ex. Now she has "to open the ex-file." She has so many questions. Sam agrees, "Men are crazy." Why, just the other day she offered to pay Hottie Waiter for sex (or at least after it), and he got pissed off and left! Carrie looks at her and is all, "Not the same situation. $300 in a restaurant is a big tip, $300 in the bedroom is a big prostitute." Sam says at least she's not having phone sex. Carrie says, "HE called ME."
Mir confronts Steve about the cache of condoms in the diaper bag. "I'm not happy our baby is having sex already, but at least he's being safe." Hee. She asks, "How much sex are you having that you have to keep rubbers in the diaper bag?" Steve's all, "What's it to you?" Carrie VOs that "contents of Miranda's baggage may have shifted during fight." Mir says she thinks Steve is not taking parenting seriously enough. He's mad. "What? Okay -- what's your problem?" She's worried that when he's putting his penis in Debbie's vagina and having an orgasm, his concentration won't be a hundred percent on Brady's needs. As she rants, Brady crawls toward the edge of the sofa, ultimately toppling off the edge. Clunk! Waah! Waah! Mir picks him up, saying, "See!" Carrie VOs that they agree only "on separate diaper bags."
Hey, look. It's Christmas in July. Char, doing the exact opposite of what Rabbi Minsch advised, has set up a Christmas tree and is playing Bing Crosby. Mmm, I want dim sum. This Christmas Kvetchy Smurf and I went out for dim sum and heard Bing Crosby's "Mela Kalikimaka (Is The Thing To Say)," or whatever that Hawiian Christmas song is called, like seven times. It was great. I love dim sum. Harry comes in and says it's okay for her to have a tree, "lots of Jews do." Char says no, and oh, look! It's her favorite ornament, a blue ball of silent night, holy night. "See how the glitter has almost worn off the baby Jesus?" Hee. "Do you know how rare it is to have a blue Christmas ornament?" Harry says mock-incredulously, "Is thaaat a faaact." Hee. I love being mock-incredulous almost as much as I love the mock duck at the dim sum place. Harry says kindly, "Have a tree, who cares?" Char does. She "won't be a meat-eating vegetarian. All this stuff has to go." Harry wants to keep the blue ornament with the baby Jesus on it. "After all, they were Jews too." He twirls it, singing, "Dreidl, dreidl, dreidl, I made it out of clay. And when it's something something!" Char says, "Dry and ready." Harry is impressed with her vast knowledge of the dreidl song, and says, "Oh dreidl I will PLAY" while nibbling her neck. Carrie VOs that the memories Char is giving up may not be as good as the memories she'll get in the future.