Hey, guess what. Jezebel/Gawker has a blog going about Sex and the City. It’s called “Living ViCarrieously,” and this girl is watching 36 straight hours of Sex and the City. Or rather, she’s finished now, but I can’t seem to find any postings beyond Season Three (I was so hungry for validation, I hallucinated a blog).

There’s also a link to a NYTimes article about a 27-year-old who believes she is the reincarnation of Carrie Bradshaw. But she can’t afford Manolos so she wears Steve Maddens — this is as bad as Candies, no? There’s some talk about the same “young girl in Manhattan” myth as well as discussion of a novel by Edith Wharton.

Because she idolizes Candice Bushnell and USES THE SHOW AS A ROAD MAP FOR HER OWN LIFE, this girl is what’s known as a “Scary Sadshaw,” to high-jack the term from Jezebel/Gawker folks.

I had to stop reading Gawker in recent months because they had almost daily posts about the SATC movie, and I can’t have that. But I’m really glad I happened to tune in and find the ViCarrieously stuff. It makes me feel not-crazy.

Still not sure what my plans are for the movie. I know I’m going to see it a second time, alone, on Sunday night as close to 8 p.m. as I can find a showing, and I’m going to bring a pen and my little notebook (yep, I’m a geek). But as for premiere watching, I’m torn. There is an 11:55 p.m. showing at the Drafthouse on Thursday, which would make me one of the first “real” people to see it. If you order a Cosmopolitan, which of course I will, you get to keep the novelty glass, and since I just broke my Jack Daniels tumbler by plunging it into a block of congealed ice cubes, the glassware would be nice. However, I do have a job to be at the next morning, and a midnight showing in Austin would put me in bed at 4 a.m. And then it’s like, why bother going to sleep at all?

I had planned to have watched Season Six in it’s entirety by now, but life gets in the way. So I’ll watch the second half of the season (eight episodes that aired separately) this week before the movie comes out. I may even do it marathon style, as an ode to Gawker.