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?
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