Sex and the City

Schuyler says:

In the state of Massachusetts, it is technically impossible for a woman to rape a man. The theory behind this is that if a man gets an erection, it’s a form of consent. This little loophole has allowed countless women to rape countless men since the dawning of time. Such rape-cases never make it to the front page of the Boston Herald (or the Carrboro News down here in Carolina).

Finally you women have slipped up. I am living proof that woman CAN rape men. All they have to do is to DRAG THEM TO SEE SEX AND THE CITY. That is rape. No doubt about it. I was forced to go, as was every single other hetero male in the theater. As 80-90 women watched with eager enthusiasm as 4 old dried up hags said the following words ad nauseam and in no discernible/understandable context: “Fashion. New York. Sex. Mr Big. Wedding. Marriage. 40 [years old]. Mr Big. New York. Sushi. Margaritas. Mr Big. Marriage. Prada.”

WHAT IS WRONG WITH YOU WOMEN!? You are teetering on the brink of devolution. We may soon know how Homo Neanderthalensis lived merely by observing you all!

[The above picture is a photo of the four stars of the film…four old skeletons…oh and MIRANDA! You’re slouching!]

This film was light and fluffy, yes…yes it was. It had warm, loving moments. It had light-hearted humorous moments. It had deep philosophical moments. However, it also had shallow, mind-less idiocy that lasted for over two hours. I’m talking about stupid, unimportant dialogue not seen since Dude! Where’s My Car?

Carrie — I know you were in Hocus Pocus 15 years ago…BUT WHY DO YOU STILL LOOK LIKE A WITCH!? Take off your hooked nose and go kill that boner Matthew Broderick has been trying to get for the past decade. Why are you making discoveries about life at age 40 that most people have made by their early 20s? The fact that you’ve probably spent over $5 MILLION on your various wardrobe collections makes me want to vomit. You could’ve just spent $1 million like your average stupid spoiled idiot and managed to help fight world hunger with your surplus $4 million. Why does everything revolve around you?! You’re so f’ing self-centered. I hope you die in some horrible, new way!

Charlotte — The lesser of five evils. At least she spends a decent amount of her day thinking about other people and “being there” for other people. However, her selection of friends shows that she’s missing a few key brain cells. Her naivety can make you feel sick at times (How can a brain function this way??)
Charlotte York: [to Big] I curse the day you were born!

What are you, a hag from the times of King Arthur? Regardless of stupidity, the only character I’d be caught dead having sex OR city with…

Miranda — I’m actually really glad her character exists. I was worried for so long, losing sleep and shedding tears…over whether or not Carrot Top would ever be able to find work again. He has…as Miranda. I’m not really sure why they named a male character Miranda (sounds like a girls name…), but Carrot Top really shines in this role. I think it’s because he didn’t try so hard. Kudos to him.
No, seriously, Miranda sucks ass and should perish.
A) You’re the ugliest thing since a naked Dr. Ruth
B) Your husband cheats on you because you don’t give him any and you haven’t shaved since Vietnam (Ironically, that’s when a lot of other women didn’t shave)…so you leave him. You don’t deserve him. Once again, you look like the Rankor from Return of the Jedi. And you’re stupid. Just thought I’d put that out there.

Samantha — How are you physically able to have sex at your age? Much less……with a person. ::Shudders:: That’s like having sex with the old testament. Now that’d be a show: Sex and the Old Testament. It’d go something like this:

Charlotte York: I always knew she’d marry Big.
Samantha Jones: You thought that after the second break up?
Charlotte York: Yep.
Miranda Hobbes: After the fifteenth?
Carrie Bradshaw: Ha ha, we broke up a lot.
[God descends from on high, and slays them all due to their harlotry.]

Samantha is the most conceited and self-centered of all the characters in this movie. She is living with her boyfriend, a Hollywood stud half her age (and making a ton of money off his career)…and still she can’t keep her dick in her pants. Some people are incapable of being in a monogamous, respectful relationship…probably because Uncle Stew fondled her breasts on Christmas Eve, 1959. I wish everyone’s favorite Romanian Superhero, Vlad the Impaler, would come back to life and shove a giant wooden stake up her ass and out her stomach. Frighteningly, she may enjoy that sort of execution…

Mr. Big — Grow some fucking balls you little shit. “Wah, I’m 50 and I fear marriage. I think I’m hyperventilating!” Oh shut up. You’re rich, so even if you get married to Carrie and it sucks, you can fuck 100 other girls a day, and pay them not to talk like Shaquille O’Neal. I hate you.

There you have it: 5 perfect reasons to not see this film. And remember guys, if you say “No!” that means “NO!”

Grade: 51


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