Ward moonlights as a cook at the neighborhood bar to make some extra money in addition to his real job. The night he works late I play up how hard it is to get T. to bed but the truth be known we usually watch TV together until I feel like I could sleep. My husband isn’t a regular reader of the blog so I can put a little time between that conversation and me.

A couple weeks ago T. and I watched Sex and the City 2 or as I have come to think of it as “White Girls Whining”.  I don’t know if these girls have gotten more annoying as they have gotten older or I am less tolerant. And, what’s up with Sarah Jessica Parker’s eyes? She looks a little Modigliani-esque. I guess plastic surgery that makes your eyes disappear in to your nose is one way to erase crow’s feet.

The premise of the film is that each of the girls has little mini-dramas that they resolve in Abu Dhabi (yes, as in the United Arab Emirates) by way of really lame epiphanies. Carrie’s chief compliant is that Big and she don’t “sparkle” anymore because he just wants to watch TV when he gets home. That TV resides in a penthouse on Park Ave that he pays for in a downward economy. If that isn’t sparkle I don’t know what is. She runs in to her old flame Aidan who is there on a rug-buying trip. Sure, that’s believable. He falls for Carries all over again because she is so “special”. I guess a woman who is pushing fifty with disappearing eyes that dresses like an eccentric bag lady is special. If Ward left me for Carrie Bradshaw I would feel bad for him.

Charlotte has a kid who cries all the time and a nanny  with an impressive rack who doesn’t wear a bra. The screenwriter even contrives a wet t-shirt scene into the script so we can really see what Nanny has. Who is that scene for? What man is watching this film? Ok, a gay one. Anyhoo, she and Miranda decked out in evening gowns sit at a private bar sipping cosmos and commiserating the difficulties of being mothers. Mofo’s is more like it, bitches. Almost as an after thought, they toast to all the mothers who don’t have help. I was trashing this scene to Christine who works on the same floor as I do. Her response, “Well, I don’t know what it’s like to have a kid that cries all the time. It’s got to be hard.” “Christine, Charlotte doesn’t know either – it’s a fake kid!”  This really scared me because Christine is usually so cynical.

I can’t remember what Miranda and Samantha discovered about them selves that’s how lagging their story lines were in this wholly uninspired movie.

In writing this I remembered something. When I was a kid my dad moonlighted in a neighborhood bar to make extra money and I stayed up and watched movies with my mom. We watched better movies though – old black and white movies like Rebecca with Laurence Oliver and Joan Fontaine or Laura with Gene Tierney, Clifton Webb and Dana Andrews.

I realize maybe my biggest fault is in picking bad movies to watch with my son when we could be staying up too late watching classics.