When we LAST left off, Carrie was wearing road-kill for a bridal gown, and Big is about to jump bail. Let’s dive back in..
Yes, she’s dressed like a princess…from, uh…I’m not sure. Far, far, far far far far far far away…
Big, if you want to talk to her, GET OUT OF THE FRIGGING LIMO.
Carrie, you suck for ripping into the Iphone. But you’re about to get left at the altar, and I like you, so I forgive you.
Sure enough, Big leaves Carrie at the altar (er, the steps). Saw this coming. No one else in this movie did? PAY ATTENTION TO YOUR MAN, LADIES.
Okay. He just changed his mind. This is how you know this show/flick was/is written by women and gay men. STRAIGHT GUYS DON’T DO THIS. If we get cold feet, we run. Period.
BIG GETS OUT OF THE LIMO AND TRIES TO APOLOGIZE: Bad Idea Jeans. The flowers on the head didn’t scare me. However, Charlotte’s bellowing baritone of “NO!!!!!!!!!!” put shivers up my spine. Hell have no fury like a woman ditched at the altar, and God help you if she has two friends in fugly dresses giving you the stink eye.
Me, if I were Big, I’d probably try to defend myself, like saying, “Ya know, honey, in addition to the past 10 years of you over-analyzing every single FUCKING detail of our dysfunctional relationship, your obnoxious witch with a capital B and the f-ed up teeth decided to monkey with my head because of her own personal issues, completely selfishly. Sorry if I was out of my head for a moment.”
That’s right, ladies. If your husband cheats on you, make sure no one else around you is happy. Especially your cool friend who got a billionaire to marry her.
God I hate Miranda.
And New York. It is not America. It is like the Vatican inside Rome. Everyone in there thinks they are better than the rest of us.
Thank you Judas, I will have another “nothing.”
Yes, Carrie, this is all Big’s fault. What is your role in this? Anything? Are you completely blameless? No matter how flat you make a fucking pancake, there are two sides.
Once again I am reminded why I like this show, and ultimately, these four women. Men may come and go, but you’re friends are there foreFUCK YOU MIRANDA. Nevermind. Miranda, you’re not actually sorry, you’re feeling guilty. And Charlotte, stop sniffing glue.
But I like Samantha still. God bless her teeny tiny slutty little heart. Welcome to Meh-hee-ko!
I have to give the filmmakers credit; they are actually showing Carrie’s vulnerability, and by proxy, her humanity. No matter the circumstances, pain is pain. I actually do feel bad for her. Then I look at her clothes and feel slightly less bad.
The master suite. Ouch. I’m laughing. “Am I dreaming?” Ouch again. Now, not so much. Depression sucks.
Oh holy God stab my eyes. As if I needed another reason to feed Miranda to a pack of rabid wolves with AIDS. Ladies, please, TRIM THE HEDGES. Preferably, scorch the earth. The size of the forrest is indirectly proportional with how much time we will spend downtown. Less leads to more, got it?
Thank you, Samantha, for once again being the voice of reason, why don’t you and I get a drink or four la…shut up Jordan! And yes, Miranda, it IS your fault! Look! Women, every time you wonder why men are frustrated with the female race, please watch this exchange between Miranda and Samantha. Make of it what you will.
Did you know that Samantha once played a Vulcan in a Star Trek movie? No wonder I have mixed emotions about her.
I once went to Mexico with a girlfriend. She was Mexican. I was not. More on that later.
Mariachi bands are something I am officially filing under “God’s Mistakes.”
“After 10 years of what he put me through.” Um, Carrie, darling, I seem to remember you home-wrecking his second marriage to Bridget Rockwel…I mean Moynahan. But alas I digress, this is all about you.
Okay this movie is officially a chick. “I put a bird on my head.” This franchise is all about the fashions yet in the same movie, it is ripping into said-fashions. You cannot have it both ways, movie. Pick one. My way or the chick-way.
“I threw it all away to put his name on the honeymoon suite.” Yup. And now you get it.
Samantha, what planet? The planet where you get to live out every pre-menopausal woman’s dream, THAT planet, the one to the right of fucking Krypton, Ms. Narcissist. Your stock just dropped, babe.
Yes, you can’t drink the water in Mexico. But have a couple drops of water in your mouth won’t give you the runs. But as I found out, drinking Pina Colada’s at a hole in the wall in Puerto Vallarta will. I got sick for a day, the G-friend didn’t. She was born there. Go figure. And I’m telling you this to distract myself from the fact that the one cute chick on this show just shit her pants on camera. God hates me. STOP LAUGHING BITCHES!
Yes, all those voicemails that you missed that just made you chuck the phone into the ocean should remind you that MAYBE you had a part in this. Guilt sucks, doesn’t it?
The first two interviews make me laugh. The third one doesn’t make any sense. Gay jokes by straight guys are funny. Gay jokes by gay guys are not.
This movie just took a left turn into Weird-ville, population Jennifer Hudson. Honey, if you show off the goods, we are going to look. Period. That crosses over all racial and cultural boundaries. Black, white, Jew, Muslim, we all love the boobies.
“White Guy With a baby” Wow. I need to look around the floor for my jaw.
Charlotte’s pregnant. Honey, you said you were on the pill!
Would it trouble you to show me at least one female nipple that isn’t a 4 year-old?
Smith, you are awesome. And insightful. And when she dumps you later in this flick, you are going to get so much ass. I will hang out with you simply to get your overflow.
Carrie, if NYPD sees a white chick in thigh-high fuck-me boots on a pay phone in Manhattan, they are going to think you are dealing ecstasy. Just saying.
“I don’t know what to say.” Yes you do. Man the fuck up and say it!
Miranda dressing up as a witch. I don’t even need to insert a joke here. Wow. Maybe the writers are finally waking up to the Frankenstein monster they created.
Charlotte, God bless your little heart, but…actually, you’re right. Everyone who sees that issue of Vogue will take Carrie’s side. Think about it.
Damn. The movie made an Uncle Fester joke about Charlotte’s hubby before I could.
I like Carrie as a brunette. I ALMOST find her attractive.
Do you realize the stupidity of giving a shit what your area code is? Do you realize why there is an entire chunk of men who think women are the weaker sex? This is not helping your cause!
FINALLY AN ADULT FEMALE NIPPLE. Granted, it is from a distance with a zoom lense, and the boob attached to said-nipple is tiny, but oh well. Beggers can’t be choosers.
The wedding dress. Ouch. “I miss him. Every day.” I hear ya, doll.
I like that Jennifer Hudson is the voice of reason. I like her. This show needed some sass.
“So happy that I’m terrified.” Side note. Most people who feel this way have a fight or flight response that when they get something good, they don’t believe they deserve it/don’t think it’s going to last. So they take off. Glad to see Charlotte isn’t one of them. I need to give her more credit
Don’t cry. Steve. Man up. Common…FUCK. Too late. I hate you but I am rooting for you.
I wish I could have seen the collective expression of all the women in the audience as Carrie wolfed down the noodles. The carbs!
I did New Years in NYC once. Freezing. Never. Again.
Smith. Dude. You are WASTING YOUR YOUTH ON A COUGAR.
When the camera panned over to Steve in bed and we saw his armpit hair, I honestly though it was going to be Miranda.
I love the gays. I really do. Happy New Year.
I am glad to see the writers of this movie share my sense of humor and love of dogs humping things.
Okay that’s enough for now.
To be concluded…
