What kind of relationship can we have if we're not honest—truly honest—with one another? I, Scanner Emily, am somewhat embarrassed to tell you that I love "Sex and the City." I have watched every episode at least eight times. I have done this in part because it's always on TV, and in part because I enjoy the show, though I hate many of the things it represents: pink drinks, super tall heels, high carbon emissions from over use of taxis when one could take the subway except for those damn super tall heels, and well, I'm not a fan of Manhattan (as anyone who knows me outside of The Internets knows). I am, however, a fan of sex, cities, cute clothes, women who aren't afraid to talk and write about sex and the idea that someone could have a job similar to mine and have a ridiculous apartment, wardrobe and going-out budget. That said, would I be caught dead in one of those "I'm a Carrie" shirts? Hell no. In fact, they make me want to drop kick somebody. But as much as I hate to admit it, you bet your ass I will put on dark glasses and be the first in line to see the "Sex and the City" movie. You roll your eyes now, but what if I told you that the new, extended trailer leads us to believe that Big leaves Carrie at the altar, Steve cheats on Miranda, and as soon as Charlotte and Harry are happy with their cute little Chinese adoptee, Charlotte finally gets knocked up?
Yes, I too am lauging at the moving-to-New-York-to-fall-in-love line. And if you don't want to go with me, I'll go to the theater alone (probably in Manhattan, but in flats via subway) with my head held down in shame. But wouldn't it be more fun with two?
[Previously on Scanner: OMG!!! SATC!!!]
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