Sweat and the City

Soupy, sultry, sweaty, call it what you will. A rose is a rose is a rose, and in this weather, it’s probably dead.

I’ve been in and out of the ACed bedroom all day. In the (sort of) cooler bedroom with my mac pretending to do some work, Out in the (mighty) hot living room watching episode after episode of Sex and the City. Backing up, mom is in town for the week for work and they are upgrading the entertainment center at home, so i got a hand-me-down of a beautiful fully functional DVD player. And kind of like fate, our latest client sent us a bunch of party favors including the entire 3rd season of Sex and the City. Never having cable at home, and being abroad for the last year, my Sex and the City quotient is very low. So i’ve been watching episode after episode in what could be called a compulsive frenzy. I feel compelled to finish the whole season in one weekend. As i near episode 15 inside of 2 days, i am realizing that it’s really not meant to be watched in such closely spaced intervals. It’s kind of like eating the whole pint of Ben and Jerry’s in one sitting. It tastes good at the time, but then it takes days to get rid of the icky sick feeling in your stomach.

I’m kind of on the fence about Sex and the City. I’d probably like it a whole lot more if it didn’t take place in New York. Luckily it revolves around a segment of the City i know practically nothing about, but the fact that the weather plays such a nothing role in everyone’s shoe choices really gets at me. Gus has remarked that Sex and the City really takes place in LA while Six Feet Under is actually a show about New Yorkers. Makes sense. There are no episodes (between 1 and 15 of season three anyway) that have Carrie wrapped around her AC hoping her powerbook doesn’t melt before she meets her deadline. Or where Charlotte checks her hair for hathead and icicles because it’s 10 degrees and bitterly windy. And if there were weeks and weeks in a row of perfectly comfortable weather, you can bet that talk of Samantha’s last orgasm would be preempted by exclamations of disbelief and then all sorts of baseless wacky metereological theories for as long as it lasts. I know i know, i should be suspending disbelief, but it would be a whole lot easier to suspend disbelief if the show wasn’t so focused on living in New York City in particular, or if it was focused on a city like Chicago where i’ve never lived. Granted the upper east side is nearly as remote to me as the windy city, but still, i just know that someone is getting sweat circles under the arms of her red McQueen dress trying to hail a cab on 60th and 3rd.

In Sex and the City fashion i had brunch with darleen downtown this morning. Unlike the show we had a tab to pick up at the end of the episode and searched for cheap. But like the show we bitched and whined about relationships mostly. Well to be honest, i did most of the bitching, but in an entertaining way i hope. Briefly, i keep using the adjective “disastrous” to define all my past relationships, and “frustrating” to define all present ones. Yes i may be overdramatizing but that’s what seven plus hours of HBO original programming will do to you. I’m also starting to see just a flash of the HBO logo against a background of fake TV snow when i close my eyes. Yikes.

Back in the real world, i’ve been instructed to “wear something cute, ok?” by mom to a dinner in Hell’s Kitchen with the fashionistas this evening. Of course i’ll have to oblige. I know someone’s told me that small sweat circles under the arms are the perfect summer accessory. Still, i may have to watch one more episode of Sex and the City first. For inspiration, dig?

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