I Review a Movie

I'd like to start a new segment called "I Review a Movie" in which I have a glass of wine after not having had one in many, many hours—like two—and review a movie I've recently or not-so-recently seen but for some reason may be thinking about. This is that segment.

I Review a Movie: Sex & The City.

(V.O.) Sometimes I see movies. Sometimes I don't. But this time I did. This time I saw Sex & The City.

FADE IN.

I can't remember if I was a big fan of the show or if I just watched it because it was on, but I don't think it matters. What matters is that I was sad when the movie ended. Not because Carrie died (haha, just kidding, suckers!), but because that meant it was really over. The characters that I may or may not have loved would never again be on the screen. Who cares if the movie was good or not, or that Jennifer Hudson was awful even though she's somehow won an Oscar? And that the only reason Jennifer Hudson was in the movie was because they were like, "Uh oh, this movie is full of white people. Let's get that girl from Idol. No, not Aiken—although, good one. The girl from the movie with the one with the butt. You know what I mean!" The point is, if I'm this upset when Sex & The City ends, what does that mean for my future?

CUT TO: Interior, movie theater, July. I'm watching the new The X-Files movie, probably alone, probably in disguise. Mulder says something like, "Scully, I want to believe" and I lose my shit. Through my sobs I say, "I remember when it was on TV." When the movie ends I refuse to let go and they have to carry me out of the building.

THE END.