Sex and the City

Yeah, you heard: SEX AND THE CITY. That’s right.

I’ve always been mystified as to the appeal of watching 4 women trotting about in stupid shoes talking constantly about men. I have many Netflix commitments at the moment and normally I’d say that life was too short to get into a series you know you’re going to hate, but my flatmate is a secret SATC lover, and I want her to like me, and I also wanted to get to the bottom of the appeal of this dumb TV programme.

My conclusion: It’s awful. But with a Martini in hand you can either zone out and just focus on the pretty colours or set yourself to picking apart the plotholes like big juicy spots. In the right company it all becomes rather fun. Here are some of the highs and the lows:

The things that make it unbearable:

  • The infuriating mystery of how anyone can stand more than two minutes in Charlotte’s company without taking her egg-white omelette and ramming it down her stupid throat.
  • Miranda’s insistence on ignoring the law of ‘redheads look great in green’ and consistently wearing vomitsome shades of orange and peach, or, you know, this timeless look:
7_miranda-if-she-were-on-deadliest-catch

WTF, Miranda?

 

  • The never-ending unanswered questions in Carrie’s narration. This woman is supposed to be a professional writer?! Really?! Here are some genuine lowlights:

“As I walked home, I couldn’t help but wonder … When did being alone become the modern-day equivalent of being a leper?”

“I couldn’t help but wonder: Inside every confident, driven, single woman, is there a delicate, fragile princess just waiting to be saved? Was Charlotte right? Do women just wanna be rescued?”
(Spoiler Alert: NO! Charlotte is wrong about EVERYTHING. She is a douche-canoe.)

“So there you have it. We’ve got a relationship without sex and sex without a relationship. Which had a better shot at survival? I couldn’t help wonder: What comes first, the chicken or the sex?”
(Even in context, this didn’t make any sense.)

And finally, my personal favourite:

“In view of current circumstances, I couldn’t help but wonder: Are men just women with balls?”

The ramblings of a MADWOMAN.

The things that make it bearable:

  • My belief that ‘Big’ is short for ‘Mr Bigglesby’.
  • I actually think Samantha is a brilliant character.
  • Coming up with lyrics to the theme tune. Yes that’s right! In a very ‘I’m Sorry I Haven’t A Clue’ fashion, my flatmate (who can sing) and I have written lyrics to the inexplicably jazzy SATC theme, and we’re so pleased with the outcome that we decided to record it for your pleasure. It’s entitled ‘Sex and shoes and brunch and things’. Please enjoy:

 

 

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