You know what? You're right. Forget about my life. I'm having Steve's baby. Pizza for everybody!

Episode Eleven: coulda, woulda, shoulda

Okay, this posting was further delayed, because between writing up this episode and last episode, I had to run from severe weather. There were possible tornadoes near my house, so me, my dog, and my laptop all drove to Austin to ride out the storm. I was oblivious to all storm cells until people started calling me and saying to get out of the house, and then I was terrified.

Anyway, I started the first part of this season write-up on Wednesday, and now it’s Friday (early Saturday) and I’m drunk and not sleepy so I’m trying to finish this so I can start watching Season Five. Whew.

Episode Eleven is the abortion episode. Samantha has had two, Carrie has had one, and Miranda is talking about having one.

Carrie’s guy was a waiter named Chad at The Saloon (not T.G.I. Fridays) who is still working at the same restaurant 13 years later and there’s a shot of him getting the plates mixed up at a table. So not only has he been a waiter for at least 13 years, but he’s a bad waiter. Carrie reminds him that she ordered “half lemonade, half iced tea,” and I liked the sound of that so much that I started ordering it. Turns out that’s called an Arnold Palmer, and most waitstaff actually know what I’m talking about when I say that.

Miranda’s scary age is 43, and Carrie’s is 45. My scary age has always been 30. I was just at a social event with a bunch of people I knew in high school mixed with a bunch of people who are still in high school. All I could think/talk about all night was how fucking old (and fat) I am. I am so very, very close to my scary age, I need a new scary age.

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