What Bridget would think of Sex and The City

I made it hot pink. 
Happy?

As I mentioned yesterday, I hate Sex and The City.  No, really, I hate it.  I pretty much think it is the downfall of modern society.  I think there might be a way to link it to everything from AIDs (easy) to the War on Terror (still pretty easy).  If one more person tells me I'm a Miranda or a Charlotte, I'm going to print out different colored T-shirts that say "I'm a Kelley" and wear them like Days-of-the-Week underpants.  When I went to see The Happening, the theater started playing Sex and The City: The Movie by mistake.  I, along with the rest of the audience, booed.  Note:  The Happening was a terrible movie, but it was still better than being trapped in a theater watching SATC.

But who cares what I think.  What would BRIDGET think...that's the Subject line after all.

Bridget lives in London, and she smokes and drinks a lot. She no doubt fancies her Urban Family as an extension of the SATC gal-pal group, and she thinks she's the Carrie of the group.  She would never tell Tom that he's the Samantha or tell Shazzer that she's the Miranda, but she and Jude have discussed how they are Carrie and Charlotte respectively.  Sure, she figures they are all less shallow and heartless, but GIRL POWER, right? 

Wrong.  For a long time, she convinced herself that Daniel was her Mr. Big.  When she throws out all of the self-help books and jams to Chaka Khan, THAT is the moment her eyes are finally cleared.  She tosses all of her SATC gear (including I'm a Carrie T-shirt) into the bin as well.  No more playing the eternal victim.  It's time to choose happiness.  It's time to believe she deserves it.  It's time for Mark Darcy.