Potential Terror: T-Minus 18 days until the Sex and The City Movie

I am feeling extremely nervous about the upcomming Sex and The City: THE MOVIE event that is oh so nearly upon us. Let me preface this post with important details:

1) I am a Sex and the City mega-fan. It is my one disgustingly girly indulgence that I refuse to feel bad about (read: unlike the sorority I was once apart of where I, ironically, was forced, while drinking a “mocktini”, to watch the Series Finale in the spirit of “sisterhood”. I felt bad about that all the time). The show’s absense from HBO has left a huge hole in my life inadequately filled by Desperate Housewives, US Weekly, and those terribly edited TBS reruns that do not bring me even an ounce of the joy I felt after watching Samantha get fucked in the ass. The only thing those reruns are good for is spotting NYC locales that, after living 9mos in the city, I can now locate on a map, which makes me feel superior to everyone I know who didn’t move to New York City after college (sorry guys).  I have been peeing in my pants since first I heard there would be a Sextacular Movie event this upcoming summer and I realized, oh my lord, I’M GOIGN TO BE IN THE CITY THAT SEX AND THE CITY IS ABOUT WHEN SEX AND THE CITY THE MOVIE COMES OUT! I WIN!!!

or so i thought.

My fear of the impending doom that may be SATC: The Movie began yesterday when I read this

incase you’re in a hurry, an exerpt:

“NEW YORK – Forget the Empire State Building. Some New York tourists are eager to see the city’s other landmarks: Carrie’s stoop, Charlotte’s gallery and that restaurant where Samantha threw a martini in a boyfriend’s face…

One company is charging visitors $15,000 and up for a luxurious four-day trip based on the show. Participants in the Destination on Location tour, launching the weekend the movie opens, will dine at restaurants frequented by Carrie and her friends, visit their favorite boutiques with personal stylists and even have the option to stop for some Botox injections.”

Oh GOD. If there is one thing this city has in abundance, besides rats, 99cent stores and sex offenders, its middle aged Botoxed cougars with too much free time and too few brain cells.

If even one of these women shows up at the theatre near my office where I already plan on seeing this movie on May 30th, the day it arrives, I am going to take my nalgene full of vodka and dump it all over their Jimmy fuckin Choos. I want my Carrie and Samantha in their fictional New York, not in my real one.

And as if that wasn’t bad enough…I saw this picture of the movies London Premiere last night:

 

Oh. My. God. NO.

Charlotte looks like she’s wearing a bracelet I made at camp circa 1998. Kim Catrall’s dress looks like it lost a fight with a panini press and, really, SJP, REALLY are you wearing that hat? HOW THE FUCK is anyone going to see the movie with that Seussical Whoville plant in their line of vision? WHY IS THIS HAPPENING??? 

The big pink elephant of a question this forces me to ask is, ”Have these women reached that too-old-for-this-to-seem-realistic mark?” and while I desperately want to say no…Kim Catrall’s face is forcing me to scream yes.  Cynthia Nixon is really our only hope here. I can’t see her so good from this angle, but I think she looks pretty. Pretty is, atleast, a minor step in the right direction.

SO, I will continue to be nervous until the day I see the movie when my nervousness will turn into either postramatic stress syndrome or something for me to write about in my next column about my sexy, fabulous New York City life. Wait…