No. Really. I. Don't. Care. Will you wake me when it's over?
I watched this show, maybe, a handful of times. It was on cable, remember, and I don't pay for TV, never have. If I was in a hotel room and it happened to be on, I would watch just long enough to decide the only person I really would like to meet is Charlotte, the one on the left, and even, then, we'd have a light lunch and part company, wishing each other well while walking away things, "Oh my god. Could she be any more superficial?" I can't relate.
I'm giving this movie admittedly free publicity (as if it really NEEDS any more) because a woman whom I know only from the Internet and only because she's the friend of a friend announced in a mass email that she has won 4 tickets to the premier next Thursday. "The hard part is trying to decide which of you wonderful women in my life deserve this chance to be at the very first screening of this movie. So, I think I'll settle it by having you tell me which of the girls you are and I'll decide." Huh? As I don't actually know this woman and she lives not anywhere near me, I could safely pass on this pseudo-contest.
When I had not responded with intense, nearly orgasmic excitement at the mere idea that I could write an essay which compared me to a fictional female, she sent me a follow-up email asking when she could expect my response. I thought about my reply and decided if my friend dumps me over this, well, it wasn't much of a friendship then, was it? My reply was, "Never. I won't be participating." She pressed for a reason. Surely I could see this was a huge chance to see "the. movie. of. the. year", emphasis mine. I sent back a "No thank you. I cannot travel to your location and I'm not interested in seeing this movie." I resisted the urge to say, "...and don't call me Shirley." I figured the quote would be lost on her.
You'd thought I had just equated her face with an elephant's derriere. How could I not want to see the only movie out there that empowers women to be who they are? Oh please. Princess Leia did a better job of that in 1977.
This TV show was something that had not been done before, when it premiered in 1998. It put women in control of their lives, all of their lives, which included making choices about sex. "Sex and the City" will go down in television history as a milestone. But people like Bea Arthur, Carol Burnett, Dianne Carroll and Dianna Rigg showed women not as door mats or nice pieces of furniture, but as women with minds of their own.
I don't get it and, admittedly, I'm not the film's target audience. I would rather point and laugh at the clothing than point and 'oooh'. The few times I watched the show, I came away perplexed at the choices presented and the one that was picked. Now this is TV and it is not real and plot lines generally have to be wrapped up in 20 minutes. Still, I would have liked more realism.
And maybe that's where I part ways with this fervor. I was told, way back in college, that the Greeks wrote all the original plot lines. There is no new plot to be discovered. What we do write are just variations on something that's been around since humans discovered storytelling made the long dark nights more bearable. I didn't find the storytelling to my liking. Of course, I'm not going to find the movies exciting.
My friend stepped into the email fray and told her friend that I was way too busy in my very exciting life and did not have time to fully immerse myself in the SATC2 buzz. Now that's a great bit of fantasy writing, I have to say. I guess that has placated the woman or she has, kindly, removed my name from her emails because there hasn't been another shot fired at me since 3:45. I'm busy next Thursday anyway. I have a date with an alternate avatar in World of Warcraft and I intend to go mash mean baddies and not give 4 New Yorkers any thought.
Beverage: English Breakfast Tea