Sex and the City is basically a stereotypically-gayer version of Lord of the Flies. If you don’t have a pair of those new high-heels, you can expect horseface, Sarah Jessica-Parker to beat the almighty crap out of you with an Armani handbag and stab you endlessly with the heels of her high-heels, whilst giving you non-stop paper-cuts with a receipt she just got on her daily clothes-shopping trip to Abudabi.
Sarah Jessica Parker..."Why the long face?"
Or in other words, in the land of the City where there is Sex, if you don’t have a D&G handbag, 50o gay best friends, a walk-in-wardrobe, and a millionaire husband, you can fuck right off.
I cannot explain to you how much I loath Sex and the City, it is literally impossible to explain to you my vomit-inducing disgust at this film. Even if I vomited all over your face, you probably wouldn’t get the sheer scale of disgust I have for this film. No really, you wouldn’t.
So to vent my anger, I’m going to be sarcastic and cynical, and attempt to explain how you’d survive the City which these “real representations of modern day women” live in.
READER NOTICE: The following advice is actually a satire, I don’t mean or recommend any of these. Doing the following may get you rejected from society, and probably arrested multiple times as well.
Condoms. They come in all shapes, sizes, and by looking at the above – colours to. As a character in the City of where there is Sex – SEX, yes, SEX (we must refer to SEX in BIG CAPITAL LETTERS FROM NOW ON…BECAUSE SEX IS VITAL) is a very important thing. Without SEX, there is no…well…no SEX, really.
Mind you, if you’re currently not having SEX, then you could perhaps use your supply of colourful condoms to form a painting. Perhaps, you could recreate the Mona Lisa, The Scream of the new London Olympics Logo all with the help of your rubbery-STI-preventing friends.
2) A Very Rich and Disposable Husband
Ladies, it is important to consider that when you are in the City where there is Sex, you must have a husband. No love obviously. Throw out all of those “Mr Right” and “Princess Charming” dreams into an endless chasm of black nothingness filled with nothing. Why? ‘Cause in Sex and the City, there is no such thing as love, just handbags, hormonal dogs, and bitching.
So, if you can’t love your husband, what can you do to him/with him?
a) Show him off. Your husband is your trophy. Show off the fact that he’s good in bed, has a six-pack, has lots and lots and lots of money. And lie, about how much he loves you, when he actually doesn’t, because your relationship is based on a lie. A LIE.
b) Having SEX with him. And lots of it. SEX. SEX. SEX.
c) Ensuring that he has lots and lots and lots of money. So much money in fact that he’s probably vomiting it out everywhere he goes, and to add to this, his bank-statement must be more than your average bank-statement, it must be a bank-statement that spits all over everybody elses, because your husband must be richer than anybody elses husband. In fact, he must be so rich, that even the bank can’t help him, because they have nowhere else to store his money. You want a husband that stores money not in a bank (because he’s so rich) but in hidden compartments: like under mattresses, in cupboards, under floorboards, or in your ears.
3) You need a Gay. Like…now
Don’t care about who this Gay man is, just so long as he’s a Gay then it’s fine. Ignore him and basically use him to brag off to other girls how you have the Gay Best Friend, and chortle about this fact in your spare time whilst endlessly talking to him about boys. ‘Cause in the City where there is Sex, women and gay men can only ever talk about handbags, sex and boys, and nothing else.
Your Gay Best Friend isn’t really a friend at all (in the same way that you’re not really in love with your husband) – and this is an important fact to consider – just think of him as another accessory accessory, just an item to brag off to everyone else. Brag him off to all of your mates and endlessly talk about how you drink wine together whilst talking about Jake Gylenhaal, whilst watching opera together, and ensuring that he does your nails during all of this as well. He’s not your friend because you like him. He’s your friend because he’s GAY.
(And because he does your nails).
4) We’re gonna need some clothes…and lots of ’em
If you don’t have those new Calvin Klein shoes then you can expect to be slaughtered…
Sorry, what’s that?
Calvin Klein only do underwear?…shit
*Runs away from hoard of Sex and the City characters who are all carrying condoms, handbags, gays, clothes, and machetes*
READER WARNING: I strongly advise you never to watch Sex and the City…ever.
Next week: How to survive The Human Centipede (so long as you’re not in the middle)