I Drink Wine and Watch Sex and the City for International Women’s Day

by thethreepennyguignol

So, it’s International Women’s Day; a day to celebrate all the wonderful women in your life, whether they’ve inspired you from afar or helped you move out of your flat after a very stressful week. In day to celebrate amazing women capable of anything and everything the world has to offer, I’m going to do something apocalyptically girly; something so feminine that my ovaries will swell to three times their size and my period will last for a month while I birth a litter of children that follow me around like the graceful earth-goddess I am. While Alanis Morisette and Sleater-Kinney play in the background.

I’ve decided to indulge the media’s proscribed fantasy for twenty-something women, of which I am one, the most stereotypically womanly thing I can think of: paint my nails, drink an entire bottle of Rose wine, and watch an episode of the most definitively girly show I’ve ever seen, Sex and the City, to see what fulfilling the stereotypes of ladydom is actually like. Won’t you join me on this, most womby of adventures (if you want something a little more serious, please check out the blog directory feminism section)?

positions

 

0:00: Right, the wine is poured, I’ve acquired nail polish, the cat has been firmly warned that if she comes near my hands for the next twenty minutes we get stuck together. Let’s get this show on the road!

0:12: NUH-NAH-NE-NE, NUH-NAH-NE-NE- fuck, I love this theme song, just give me a minute to get up and dance to it.

0:24: My wine is going everywhere. Right, I should sit down.

1:31: Blah, blah, blah, the hot uptight one has a bad kiss on a date and the girls are chatting up over brunch. I hate all of this, till Kim Catrall delivers some filthy pun in a drawl reminiscent of a thousand post-coital cigarettes and I can’t. I might crack out a face mask, really get this party going.

2:31: Kristin Davis is a terrible fucking actress. Sometimes I forget. It looks like she’s about to giggle or cry at any given moment, except when the script calls for her to do either of these things.

4:00 I picked the episode called “No If Ands or Butts”, because it was the first pun that jumped out to me. Better be some anal in this.

5:31: Oh, this is the one where she meets Aiden, the man a thousand times too good for her! The face mask is on, and it feels nice, except the knowledge that I will have to go and remove it in three-five minutes time which means standing up and potentially tripping over my cat. God, they should make a sitcom about me- not a good one, mind, just one where most of the characters turn to camera every five minutes and shake their heads at my fucking ineptitude.

6:22: Sarah Jessica Parker and John Corbett have no chemistry. I don’t remember it being so egregious before.

7:00 Wine, wine, lovely wine. Ugh, I already have nail varnish on my knuckle, somehow.

8:41: Ah, lovely Steve. If it weren’t for his initial ability to fucking take no as answer, he’s really sweet! Some face mask has gotten in my ear, and it feels funny. It’s not that I don’t enjoy the odd pampering session with junky TV, it’s just that when I’m making a pointed effort to do all the girly things at once, it all just feels a bit…stern?

9:15: Miranda has “Ralph Lauren Paint”. Please tell me-What the fucking fucking-

10:00: I’m already a glass in. I quite want to turn this off and clean the house, but I will indulge my feminine side, god-darnit.

10:54: Oh, it’s also the one where Samantha dates a black guy and the show attempts some racial commentary. It’s…questionable. I’ve absent-mindedly run my wet nails through my hair and now I have to start over.

13:54: Aiden won’t kiss Carrie because she smokes, which seems kind of an overreaction. I have smudged blue nail varnish on to my sofa.

15:31: Bad kisser guy is turning into a subplot. It’s ten times less interesting than the crazy gay dude obsessed with dolls subplot, which I reckon should crop up in every show in the world. I’d love to see The Walking Dead work that in. I’m taking the face mask off, because it’s burning a little bit. I don’t even know why I keep face masks in the house as they always make my skin break out.

20:23: Samantha is informed she may not date a black guy because his sister doesn’t approve. Ah, great for this show to finally acknowledge the fact that there are fucking black people in New York after about eighty seasons!

20:41: Everyone tells Carrie to quit cigarettes for Aiden. Not because they’re murderous sticks of death or anything.

21:21: I would turn down sex with Kim Catrall for a cigarette right now. Damn you wine!

22:12: Steve gets uncomfortably angry that Miranda won’t support some dumb-luck basketball thing the plot didn’t bother to get us invested in. Yeah, this plus future cheating with the nanny put Steve down a notch. I jerked my hand up with surprise when he started yelling and very nearly smeared nail varnish on the cat, who did not heed my warnings.

24:50: Carrie gives up cigarettes for Aiden, and they kiss, and John Corbett stands about two feet away from her as he does it, somehow. This subplot feels chemically castrated.

26:17: Kim Catrall is actually a seriously decent actress, and she’s deserves more credit. She even manages to instill some grace into this weird racial supblot.

28:23: Carrie runs out on her date to smoke a cigarette, which is certainly not what I’m fighting the urge to do right n-

28:24: Let’s pretend that five-minute break and the fact I’m now stinking of fags didn’t happen, right? Right. The nail polish is fucked; I’m horrifically bad at this. The wine drinking I am handling, that said.

29:54: This show would be twenty times as palatable without Carrie’s voiceover. Half the bottle of wine is gone, and I have no doubt that it’s because of her.I just glanced in the mirror in the way back from the bathroom and I have wierd clumps of face mask in my eyebrows.

30:21: ROLL CREDITS! Wait, was there anal in this? I’ve asked that question more than I should have in the last couple of months.

So, I’ve enjoyed/endured my stereotypically girly evening, and now I’m off to watch some wonderful women-centric TV (check out my last Women’s Day post if you want some suggestions!), flick through my copy of Vindication of the Rights of Women, and finish this bottle of wine. Happy International Women’s Day, everybody!

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