Too Much Sex

in the City.

I told myself that I would never watch that show. Much as I like SJP, Sex is all about shopping and being fabulous, and I'm just not that kind of girl. The most expensive pair of shoes in my closet is by far my rock climbing shoes, and when shopping, I'm far more likely to resemble cartoon Cathy than glamorous Carrie, minus the shrieking. I'm more of a whimperer.

But I'm on NetFlix now (where all the cool kids hang out), and as my very dear friend E. is a big fan, I thought I'd give the show a shot. And in time, I did get hooked. I don't know these women or anyone like them, so it was a bit like watching gorgeous, exotic, tropical fish in a swanky, Manhattanesque aquarium: I stared from the outside, fascinated and a little seasick.

I suppose it's inevitable that just about any woman watching is going to wonder where she fits into the line-up. Am I most like wild and crazy Samantha? romantic and prudish Charlotte? silly and self-destructive Carrie? Sadly, I think I most resemble driven, cynical Miranda, only without her optimism and zest for life.

Ultimately, I am none of these women, nor would I want to spend much time with them in real life. If I had an extra $500, I'm about as likely to spend it on a donation to the Republican National Committee as I am to spend it on a pair of Manolo Blahniks (seriously, WTF? I don't get the idea of miniature boas for my feet -- my toes just aren't campy and fabulous enough to get away with it). $500 is most of the way to plane tickets for two to San Fran. or a dive computer.

So as I'm watching the umpty-umpth episode and trying NOT to see anyone's tits (was that just a ruse to get boyfriends to watch quietly with their girlfriends, 'cause I can't think of a good reason to make a predominantly female audience stare down yet another pair of tits every episode), I couldn't help but wonder:

Are they ever going to bring Arrested Development back?