People are annoying sure, but then it’s hard to be cynical in this tortured world for fear of being called a moaner. It’s all gone topsy-turvy, no longer can you start a sentence with ‘I hate people who….’ because hey, chances are not everyone who listens to Paramore is a dickhead, and alternatively, perhaps in some far off galaxy populated by yellow squirrels and fifty-foot high chickens, there are people who like Sex And The City that aren’t grotesque individuals inside and out.
I mean, how could you watch this episode and decide to carry on watching? I could almost tick off the list of cuntish things people do in life purely by watching these twenty-seven minutes. The usual Sex And The City clichés were apparent – the selfishness, the stupidity and the sadness, but this one just seemed to go on and on until it beat the viewer into a submission, and not the glorious type which leaves you handcuffed to the bannisters receiving oral pleasure from a black beauty.
No pleasure seems to be gained by anybody here, especially Carrie who is worrying about Aidan moving in because of the ‘secret things that women do’ when no-one is around. I understand her concern, for sure I wouldn’t want anyone to see me doing the things that I’m rather ashamed of. The scratching, the listening to reggae, the distributing anti-white skin propaganda, but then when you’re with the one person who truly makes you feel whole then it just doesn’t matter. Just a typical woman I suppose though, spend a lifetime moaning about being alone, and then as soon as a smouldering sexy brute enters your life you run to the hills screaming about invasion of privacy.
Charlotte’s ‘secret’ thing to do is to study her pores with a magnifying mirror, a habit of which she has the audacity to complain about NOT being able to do. What the fuck? Her and Trey are going through bare problems – not being able to have a child being the main one. Trey tried to make Charlotte feel better about the situation, by warmly and jokingly presenting her with a cut out cardboard baby, but for some perplexing reason she failed to see the funny side. I think the cardboard baby is my new number one peripheral character in this show, gently blowing out Gay Stanford to the number ‘two’ position – which, let’s be honest, he’s probably enjoy.
Samantha spends this episode continually fucking her boss Richard, who apparently has ‘the perfect dick’, unlike Miranda who is the perfect dick. Ever laugh uproariously to yourself because you’re so funny? Just me then. Samantha spends a lingering moment sucking Richard’s cock in his office, a moment which reminded me that I hadn’t seen so much white stuff flying around in the air since the great paper aeroplane battle of year ten, sometime in 2005.
“Is it okay to fuck one guy when you’re pregnant with another mans baby?” asked Miranda as she toyed with a blind date dilemma. I’ll be honest, I’ve not heard such an existential question since my ill-fated days of studying Philosophy, and the great man Sartre. Speaking of the blind date, Miranda really is morphing into Cilla Black, and it’s not just the hair that makes me say that. The wide open mouth which has shit emanating from it on a regular basis, the ill fitting skirts, and the combined sex appeal of a rapist tag team. Still would though.
Carrie’s woes are definitely the worst though. Worst in a ‘you’re a cunt’ sense though, not as in me displaying any sympathy for her whatsoever. An argument over the lack of space in her apartment with Aidan fully showed me that she’s far more interested in shoes than her relationship, and for that she’ll never find happiness unless she puts down the Geigers, and makes with the giggles. Saying that though, I’m probably as much of a shoe whore as she is – I’d sell my soul for a new pair of Forest Hill’s, just saying in case there are any generous and warm-hearted martinthecity fans reading this…
“What are we fighting for?” Carrie asked as her argument with Aidan went on for days. If she doesn’t even know having told Aidan to ‘shut up’ about fifty times then perhaps she should learn to channel her anger into something more important. It was weird though, every time she said ‘shut up’, my blood boiled, my brow furrowed, and my cock strangely stiffened like a feather in the wings of love. I still think Aidan is a good guy despite taking back Carrie back that time, and even the knowledge that he uses ‘Rogain’ can’t diminish my adoration for him. Yes, a ruffle able thatch is a pre-requisite for my hero worship of a man, but he ticks all my other boxes – masculinity, wood chopping ability, and a big cock.
Still though, considering Aidan and Carrie patched up their differences in the end, I feel that the end of this review should centre on Trey seeing as he seems to be slipping out of this show, like Michael Jackson’s cock inside somebody over fifteen. I’m gonna miss the guy – I’ve had a rocky relationship with Trey, and looking back over my past notes he’s not really covered in my full glory, but he still deserves some praise. The kilts, the impotency, and most importantly, ‘Bonnie’ his humorous, yet slightly evil mother. May she rest in peace, god bless her smoky Scottish soul.