This Woman's Take on Sex and the City
There are a ton of things I do not understand about popular culture and Sex and the City is one of them.
For all I can tell, it’s about a horse-faced hag that has problems with men, but her consolation prize is she has some pretty chic, if not bizarre, outfits to prance around in NYC regardless of the fact no writer can afford $3000 Marc Jacobs cocktail dresses. I do not care about this stupid show (and now movie, I'm sure a comic book or Saturday morning cartoon is on its way) because I’m not its intended demographic. It is marketed to boring housewives who are trying to live through other women over thirty-five who’re not stuck with the social-life-suicide known as marriage.
I want to try and like the show, but it’s hard when the biggest advocate has been my 60-year-old married aunt who says things like, “This is the best show of my life.” Uh, sorry, but I know for sure there have been better shows in the last sixty-years. And I bet not many of them were centered around a woman so repulsive that there’s a website dedicated to how she looks like a horse. Which brings me to the first reason this show ever became a hit. Sarah Jessica Parker is hideous in a way that makes it easy for women to think to themselves, "I am just as, if not more, attractive than this chick."
Although Sex and the City didn’t invent the “Cougar,” it has made it socially acceptable. Way to go mom, make sure you bring condoms to the bar with you. Fucking gross. I am not sure when the memo stopped being passed around, but the oldest you can get away with being a slut and not turn into an automatic tragedy is thirty-two tops. Thanks to Sex and the City, recently divorced soccer moms everywhere now feel it is their God given right to invade bars with their sagging tits and faces so tight and expressionless, you might as well be banging a mannequin.
I guess you could make the argument that I’m being hypocritical considering I’ve been known to partake in shameless after-hour activities akin to the likes of these characters. All I’ve got to say is that I am sure your mom, as well as mine, are also going to watch this film and having one night stands with strangers is the last thing I ever want to have in common with them. This is one movie I (and hopefully my mother) will never see.
For all I can tell, it’s about a horse-faced hag that has problems with men, but her consolation prize is she has some pretty chic, if not bizarre, outfits to prance around in NYC regardless of the fact no writer can afford $3000 Marc Jacobs cocktail dresses. I do not care about this stupid show (and now movie, I'm sure a comic book or Saturday morning cartoon is on its way) because I’m not its intended demographic. It is marketed to boring housewives who are trying to live through other women over thirty-five who’re not stuck with the social-life-suicide known as marriage.
I want to try and like the show, but it’s hard when the biggest advocate has been my 60-year-old married aunt who says things like, “This is the best show of my life.” Uh, sorry, but I know for sure there have been better shows in the last sixty-years. And I bet not many of them were centered around a woman so repulsive that there’s a website dedicated to how she looks like a horse. Which brings me to the first reason this show ever became a hit. Sarah Jessica Parker is hideous in a way that makes it easy for women to think to themselves, "I am just as, if not more, attractive than this chick."
Although Sex and the City didn’t invent the “Cougar,” it has made it socially acceptable. Way to go mom, make sure you bring condoms to the bar with you. Fucking gross. I am not sure when the memo stopped being passed around, but the oldest you can get away with being a slut and not turn into an automatic tragedy is thirty-two tops. Thanks to Sex and the City, recently divorced soccer moms everywhere now feel it is their God given right to invade bars with their sagging tits and faces so tight and expressionless, you might as well be banging a mannequin.
I guess you could make the argument that I’m being hypocritical considering I’ve been known to partake in shameless after-hour activities akin to the likes of these characters. All I’ve got to say is that I am sure your mom, as well as mine, are also going to watch this film and having one night stands with strangers is the last thing I ever want to have in common with them. This is one movie I (and hopefully my mother) will never see.
Labels: development hell
5 Comments:
Sabrina, come on now. You're just being mean to the other girls so you can have more for yourself. I don't blame you, looking like that and all.
you're right, people should only have sex for the first 30 years of their life and then no matter what happens, if you get divorced or your husband dies, you should never try to meet anyone else for sex or relationships because that's fucking gross
I am not sure when the memo stopped being passed around, but the oldest you can get away with being a slut and not turn into an automatic tragedy is thirty-two tops.
What you meant to say is "the oldest you can get away with being a slut and not turn into an automatic tragedy is... about 5 years older than I currently am."
What you meant to say is "the oldest you can get away with being a slut and not turn into an automatic tragedy is... about 5 years older than I currently am."
Yeah, actually, that makes a lot of sense to me. But then again, I am a 12 year old girl.
i don't like that show either. probably because people watch it and then they think it is perfectly acceptable to invite you to brunch so they can tell you in a louder than normal voice about how they let the UPS delivery guy blow a load all over their face last night, in front of an entire restaurant full of hungover losers drinking during the day.
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