Oh, hiiiiiiiiiii — remember me? I’ve been on summer vacay.
Anyway, Girl.
Where do I start?
You wouldn’t know it from the way my bestie and I hate text our way through every breath of And Just Like That each week, but I really have been trying to have a good attitude. I let Miranda’s pasty white ass move to California, I kept my eyeballs in my head when Charlotte ran out in the middle of a blizzard to buy condoms for her kid, and I even somehow managed to not throw my television out the window when Anthony claimed to be a top, but this finale has sent me right over the edge. I mean … what are they even doing over there in that writers’ room??
Listen. We all knew this would happen. There was no way the show was going to make us happy. Name a reboot that has worked.
Yeah — YOU CANT.
Reboots are set up to get us full of the warm fuzzies and harking back to the days when we had the metabolism of a thoroughbred horse and hanging out with friends didn’t involve planning around a colonoscopy prep.
What. Just me??
I knew it would be rocky. I knew there might be a bumpy start, but I really did have high hopes. (I’m not sure why since that second movie was an abomination). When the trailer for the show dropped I got all tingly and lost my damned mind. Before I knew what was happening I was ordering cosmos again, wearing my good sweats to my little Zoom meetings, telling everyone I’m a Miranda while saying things like, “If you’re tired, you TAKE a napa, you don’t MOVE to Napa!”
Oh. My. God. Being a person is so embarrassing.
They got me all distracted and acting a fool out here in these streets. I took the bait. We all did. We launched ourselves right into their manipulative, grubby little capitalist hands. Well, congratulations, jerks — we all got the HBO app. Hope you’re happy!
BUT WHAT NOW???
As this show wears on I can’t help but wonder … was getting us to sign up for the HBO app the whole entire plan? Girl, from the looks of this show it sure seems like Big wasn’t the only person they decided to leave here on the floor to die.
I watched Sex and the City because these four best friends were interesting and funny! Here were bold, badass women living out loud. They talked about sex and hookups and blow jobs and one night stands and gay people and relationships WHEN NOBODY ELSE WAS and looked great doing it. I came back for AJLT because I’m a loyal bitch who thought that same bold spirit would continue. I thought the writers, HBO, us, EVERYONE was ready to take the opportunity to let this group of friends WHO HAPPENED TO BE IN THEIR FIFTIES take the world by storm again. I wanted to see the trials and joys of whatever this next chapter might be.
Instead, each week, we’re subjected to 60 or so minutes of a swirling bunch of insanity. My lord there are too many people on this show and they are awful at managing them. How can I care about Carrie, Miranda, and Charlotte and the terrible choices someone is writing for them each week while I’m being forced to pretend that Che Diaz is bringing any single thing to the table. A standup who isn’t funny? Groundbreaking. Did they think adding a nonbinary person was avant-garde? What a waste that person has been beyond having a nonbinary person on television for the world to see. Every single moment of them on screen is the very definition of a squandered opportunity.
Speaking of wastes? How about that Samantha cameo? Like — who even cares about that dummy at this point? We haven’t talked about her since LAST season. I think we’re all over it by now. WHY BOTHER BRINGING HER BACK? So she can say goodbye to an apartment? Nope. Not buying it. Wow. I really cannot wait to see the 10 minute scene next season where we’ll be treated to a monologue full of exposition explaining her trip that we won’t get to experience for ourselves. Seems like they were over it too — they couldn’t even bother to give her a decent green scene for that limo ride. The only thing more embarrassing than Kim Catrall’s shitty attitude about the show that made her famous is this god awful 74 seconds.
YEAH, BITCH. I TIMED IT.
Think about that too long and you’ll miss a five minute poorly managed tribute to Stanford, or a 30 second romance in the elevator with Carrie’s podcast boss, or Lily pretending to be Billie Eilish, or Rock being a model for all of 3 second, or Carrie wearing a dress made out of a comforter in a snow storm, or Charlotte obsessing over a belt, or walking around selling art to Sam Smith or … my god … Carrie having a cat — OH MY LORD IN HEAVEN CARRIE WOULD NEVER HAVE A CAT.
WHAT A NIGHTMARE!
Isn’t managing characters TV Writing 101? They should offer us all free Xanax each week because turning this show on feels like stepping into a blender full of sequins and bullshit. I can’t tell where to focus!
Not only are there people I could care less about that continue to pop up and interrupt the three people I actually came here to see … what are these half assed story lines? You’re really going to tell me that in 2023 we’re going to have a powerful black female filmmaker with a surprise pregnancy who can’t even say the word ABORTION? I’m sure most of you heard me screaming the word at my TV from YOUR house. While we’re talking about folks of color … is the ability to purchase an expensive baby shower gift the very best we can offer a black law professor AT COLUMBIA UNIVERSITY?
OH MY GOD. It doesn’t take a Master Class with Toni MF Morrison to know that the only thing more sad and racist than not including people of color is relegating people of color to the very one dimensional back ground.
Hooooo boy.
Then we have the original characters.
Miranda is running around like a chicken with her head cut off for a person who is not likeable or funny or fun or even all that cute, Charlotte nearly has me slapping her through my TV with her wild parenting “dramas”, and Carrie is out here acting out some asshole’s Aidan fantasy from 2005. Is all we have to look forward to in our fifties some old divorced dude who lives in Virginia who doesn’t have the stones to cross a threshold because he might have to deal with his feelings? I have a hard time believing Carrie would put up with that crap, or that the dick is so good she’d spend the next FIVE YEARS sitting around in New York City waiting to see it again.
I MEAN. MY. GOD. What a bleak outlook.
BUT — for me — a homosexual — THE ABSOLUTE MOST HORRIFYING thing I have witnessed on this show was Anthony making cranky faces while experiencing anal for the first time. You guys — listen — wanna know something about anal sex? IT FEELS FUCKING GREAT. I am the king of all curmudgeons — and the only thing on my face during anal sex is a PURE DELIGHT. Get real, brah … suggesting anything else — is stupid and homophobic.
It’s fine! I’m fine. Everything is hunky-MF-dory. Manipulate me. I love it.
Anything for these women!
That’s what I keep saying when asked if I’m watching this god awful mess.
ANYTHING FOR THESE WOMEN!
I’ll go wherever they go. And I have. I’ve been here for every single episode. Apparently we all have since And Just Like That continues to be the number one Max Original overall, and is the most-watched returning Max Original to date. Good for everyone involved, but shouldn’t there be a bigger goal here? Don’t they have some responsibilities to fulfill???
If I am going to be this devoted — it sure would be nice if anyone would do the work of respecting and caring for these women in a manner in which they deserve.
And they do — THEY DESERVE IT — we all do.
Whatcha Doin???
reading: Currently reading … Tom Lake by Ann Patchet … because Reese said so. Also read this summer: Carrie Soto is Back and Pineapple Street (loved them!)
watching: This new Real Housewives of New York is everything. Jenna Lyons for President. Also finally watched Ted Lasso. Please let this strike be over soon my goodness.
listening: I’m obsessed with the Barbie movie, so obviously I have What Was I Made For on repeat.
Thank you for saying what needed to be said. Co-sign all points. Exhausted and also can not wait for next season.