The Sex and the City movie – which follows the libidinous exploits of, uhh, Veronica, Betty… Dopey and, er, Horny? (I’m guesstimating) – opens Friday, much to the delight of women around the world who mistakenly believe that they and their friends are equally interesting because they, too, have sex indiscriminately.
The Sex and the City movie – which follows the libidinous exploits of, uhh, Veronica, Betty… Dopey and, er, Horny? (I’m guesstimating) – opens Friday, much to the delight of women around the world who mistakenly believe that they and their friends are equally interesting because they, too, have sex indiscriminately.
I for one could not be more excited about being less excited about this movie. But even I recognize that the return of the “Fab Four” raises important questions, among them: Which one’s the dude again? Is it technically possible to catch syphilis from the seventh row? And, most important of all…
How would Sex and the City have been different if the movie had been set not in New York – but in the deep South?