Sex and the City s05e04 Episode Script

It is said that it takes a lifetime to figure out who you are.
This book cover is so you.
People in publishing move a tad faster.
It's a mock-up.
Don't be thrown.
We put your head on another body.
The cover of "Sex And The City".
The bestselling "Sex And The City".
No! I'm sorry.
That just came out.
That's good.
You had a strong reaction.
That's what we want.
We don't want the reaction to be "no".
Let me talk you through it.
Blurred background.
A fast-paced city.
You naked with nothing but your ideas.
I get it.
But no matter how fast-paced the city, I always manage to get my clothes on before I leave the apartment.
Courtney, here's what concerns me.
That cover is all about sex.
- Well, sex sells.
- Yes My columns are about relationships.
When I write about sex, it's just words.
Reading about sex is different than seeing it in front of you naked on 6th Avenue hailing a cab.
- I totally understand, Carrie.
- OK.
We're fucked.
No.
OK Let me see it again.
Absolutely not.
I would sooner die.
The next day, our talk turned from bachelors, baby bottles and Balenciaga blouses to books.
Bad, worse, loser disaster.
And you know the scary thing? I'm being kind.
Relax.
What could anyone say about you? You're fabulous.
But if I get the wrong book cover, I'm a fabulous target.
People are mean.
People are not that mean.
She looks like shit.
Is her stylist blind? - I have officially entered panic.
- Oh, stop.
Talk to me.
This is what I do.
How do you see yourself on the cover? Like a writer who happened to have wound up on her book cover looking smart, sexy and properly airbrushed.
I can help you.
I'll talk to the publishers.
When's the photo shoot? - Next Thursday, but I can't afford you.
- True, my PR services are pricey.
It'll cost you two martinis and a lunch.
OK, I'll talk to my people.
What kind of a diet book are you looking for? Something like "How To Lose That Baby Fat By Sitting On Your Ass".
- How about "The Zone"? - How about no? - I thought you were serious.
- I am.
As soon as I finish this nougat, caramel, pretzel thing.
I'm gonna go look for this book I read about.
- What's it called? - "Starting Over Yet Again".
See ya.
There it was.
The self hell aisle.
As Charlotte looked at the titles: "The Women's Comfort Book", "The Path To Love", "Excuse Me, Your Life Is Waiting", "Please Understand Me ll", she couldn't bear the thought that she belonged there.
That really helped me.
Travel? Travel? Travel? This is adorable.
This is psychotic.
It's none of my business, but don't do that.
I did.
- I lost 24, gained 46.
- "The New York Times" said Can "The New York Times" pry the cookie dough out of your hands? Weight Watchers.
It's the only sane way.
You can even have dessert.
Where's "Starting Over Yet Again"? Here you go.
- Good luck with Weight Watchers.
- Thank you.
- Did you find your book? - No, it wasn't for me.
- Yeah.
Like I need his advice.
- I'm a dead woman.
Who needs the self help aisle when you can self help yourself to amazon.
com and get exactly what you need, overnight express and shame free.
- That's quite a package.
- Excuse me? That's quite a package.
Want to sign right here, please? There.
How's that? Pretty damn good.
I just got my nails done.
Would you mind opening my package? Ooh, thank you.
Now, maybe I can help you with your package.
Fucking 'A'.
At exactly 12:15, I stopped by to pick up Samantha for our business lunch to decide what we thought was sexy.
Oh, I'm sorry.
- Wanna keep going? - No, I've had enough.
Some women, like Samantha, know when to stop putting things in their mouths, while others, like Miranda, need a little help.
I'm much lighter metric.
Excuse me.
Hi.
There's been a mistake on my weight.
- The scales don't lie.
- This isn't a vanity thing.
The other woman inverted the numbers.
If I'm gonna do this, I want to do it right.
You've got the right attitude.
Come on.
Can I scooch in a minute? Thanks.
- Elaine.
- Yeah? You wrote down this woman weighs - Sorry.
- Could you not yell out my weight? Hey, I weigh 240.
Goal weight 77.
- Here you go and here's a name tag.
- A name tag? Oh, yeah.
We've all got to wear these.
- Tom.
Big boned.
- Miranda.
Baby weight.
- Hi.
- Hi.
Later that same day, Stanford came over for a fag and some flipping.
Finish that and get over here and start on "Vogue".
Tear out any outfit that might work for me.
Something that won't be too pathetic if I wind up in the half-off bin.
Well, you look very something.
- I am very something.
- What's going on, Ms Blatch? - I met someone.
- Oh, my God.
Really? That's fantastic! His name is Marcus.
- Is he a Roman? - No, he is not.
Too bad.
I adore a metal breastplate on a man.
What does he do? OK.
Before I tell you, you have to promise not to judge.
- Do I judge? - We all judge.
That's our hobby.
Some people do arts and crafts.
We judge.
- I'll be kind.
- He's a dancer.
Radio City Music Hall.
I feel as though my hands are tied.
He's a Broadway calibre dancer, working in the male chorus.
Last Christmas, he danced the part of Arabian Coffee in "The Nutcracker".
- Where did you meet? - Standing in line at Starbucks.
You met a man who played coffee waiting to get coffee? - We're both grande house blends.
- What is that, a new zodiac sign? - Hello.
- How funny was that in my office? Hilarious.
I'm sending you the X-ray bill for my elbow.
- Could you have gotten out any faster? - No.
Lighten up.
- I am lightened up.
- Good news.
I got my favourite stylist to pull some looks for the cover.
Did you tell them what we're looking for? - Sexy chic, like you said.
- When are you meeting them? - Maybe I should join you.
- Don't worry.
I'll handle it.
But I have some ideas.
- You still want me to do this, right? - Yeah, why wouldn't I? I'll have them pull some stuff.
How's Saturday? - It's great.
I'll ask Stanford to come.
- Is Stanford suddenly a stylist? No, but he's gay and bitchy.
My target test audience.
- You OK? - I'm fabulous.
- We'll talk tomorrow.
- OK.
- Ask Stanford to come where? - Look at some outfits for the cover.
- Saturday.
- I'll have to check with Marcus.
We may have plans.
You're not gonna turn into one of those couples, are you? Judgey wudgey was a bear I think it's pretty much agreed that it goes open-minded: good, judgmental: bad.
But are we being too quick to judge judgment? Perhaps judgment is not so much a snap decision as an early warning and detection device.
If it is instantly clear that a person, place or profession is not for you, is it better to ignore your better judgment and read between the lines or should you judge a book by its cover? You've got mail.
"Based on your recent book purchase, "here's a list of books you might be interested in.
" The selected list included "Lonely Women No Men", "Love Hurts.
You Don't Have To", "I'm Fine Now" and "Reservations for One".
Charlotte refused to see herself as one of those women.
It fell eight flights and landed at the feet of a woman contemplating divorce.
She considered it a sign from God.
After three Weight Watchers meetings, where they did nothing but talk about eating, Miranda Baby Weight and Tom Big Boned went someplace to eat.
Then I did the one where you only have water, eggs and grapefruit.
- Cos they're so good together.
- Yes.
It worked out well until I fainted on an Indian woman in the subway.
What about the one with the pre-packaged, chemicalised food? How do they get all of those artificial ingredients into such tiny packages? Although they did have this itty-bitty thing of tuna that I loved.
I cut my tongue licking it out of the can and knew it was time to stop.
- Ever try the cabbage soup diet? - No, I heard it gives you bad Gas? It's true.
That was the end of my fiancée.
She sounds mean.
There was more to it.
We weren't good together.
She was very critical.
The more she put me down, the more I ate.
Whenever somebody criticises me, I go right for those.
- Glazed.
They're my favourite.
- The best Weight Watchers meeting is on 23rd Street.
Can't go near it cos there's a Krispy Kreme next door.
How many Weight Watchers points do you think is in one of those? Two hundred thousand.
Would it be terrible if we split one? We're consenting adults.
Sir? Can I get a Krispy Kreme and a knife? Here you go.
Whoever invented glaze is a genius.
See, that is worth being fat for.
I'm sorry, it's worth it.
- I know how we can burn this off.
- Really? Activity points.
Weight Watchers turned out to be a lot more enjoyable than Miranda expected.
- No.
- Yes.
- Yes.
I was all over his face.
- No.
- Talk about loving yourself.
- I'd rather be good friends with myself.
- When I was a lesbian - I saw that coming.
I could get out with nothing more than a fine lip gloss.
- You're awfully quiet.
- What is there to say? The man has bad manners.
You keep a box of tissues on the nightstand.
While he's stroking you with one hand, he grabs a tissue and dabs his face.
Emily Post's Polite Pussy.
Why didn't you just say something? It's hard to criticise if you're with someone who overeats when criticised.
Miranda went out with an overeater and he overate her.
When he popped his head up, he had such a proud look on his face.
They always look proud, like they just came back from war.
- They want that "you're my hero" kiss.
- Not without a tissue and an Altoid.
It's a double standard.
I'd feel insulted if I'd gone down on a guy and he wouldn't kiss me.
Samantha, do you kiss after a blow job? No, she signs the delivery slip and sends him on his way.
What's going on? Carrie has a problem that she saw me blowing the Worldwide Express guy.
- Oh.
- That was her and not me.
- When did I say I had a problem? - You walked in, caught us and ran.
What was I supposed to do? Flip through "Marie Claire"? Where did you see her blowing him? Not on the street Of course not.
It was in the privacy of my office.
It wasn't a Worldwide Express guy.
It was my Worldwide Express guy.
- Your Worldwide Express guy? - Yes.
- What's his name? - Joe.
Tuesdays and Thursdays.
What's the big deal? We laugh about this kind of stuff all the time.
- Fine.
- Samantha It's fine.
We'd better go, Carrie.
We'll be late for the stylist.
- Naughty, fabulous, camp.
Harlot.
- No.
I think it's a fantastic approach, and the publishers love the idea.
They wanted me buck-naked waiting for the M11 bus.
We said sexy chic.
Who is this stylist, Frederick's of Hollywood? Just go try at least one on.
I can't wear this.
I'm gonna look like an extra from "Moulin Rouge".
You will not.
The shoes are lined up in there.
Scoot.
Don't say scoot.
Knock knock.
Nothing in here I haven't seen and ruled out in junior high.
- Hello, doll.
Carrie's changing.
- Samantha This is my boyfriend, Marcus.
Papa's got himself a brand new bag.
Come out.
I want to introduce you.
Marcus Adent, Lady Marmalade.
Nice to meet you.
I don't usually dress like a high-class hooker.
- That is not a hooker look.
- Please, this screams hooker.
What respectable New York woman would be caught dead wearing this? I have one in red.
Am I a hooker? Could you wait outside? We're having trouble deciding on my outfit.
No, let's get a second, and I might add gay, opinion.
- Doesn't she look adorable in that? - Yes.
Isn't this the worst possible outfit for my cover? Yes.
What about you? What do you think? - It's not very modern.
- Isn't he great? He's great.
Can you wait outside for a second? - What do you think? - Great.
Samantha, I really appreciate the help.
You and I have different ideas about what's sexy.
- This is about the blow job, isn't it? - What? One blow job and I'm a hooker with no taste.
This isn't about the blow job.
This is about the book cover.
I don't feel comfortable on a shelf next to a biography of Eleanor Roosevelt - with my breasts hanging out.
- What is the problem? I've seen you wearing not much else.
Not lately.
You know why? It's time for ladies my age to cover it up.
We can't get away with what we used to.
- Meaning blow jobs.
- Jesus! Again with the blow jobs.
- What is your problem? - I don't have a problem.
You do.
I have marabou-covered breasts.
That is my only problem.
I'm not blind.
I saw that look in your eye in my office.
- What look? - That judgmental look.
That was shock.
I thought we were having lunch.
Do you have no judgment about me and the Worldwide Express guy? No judgment.
I do have a question.
Will this relationship be priority overnight or next day delivery? Oh, come on.
Lighten up, remember? If I walked in on you giving a blow job to a Worldwide Express guy You wouldn't because that is something I would never do.
There.
I cannot believe you would judge me after everything we've been through.
Where are you going? I'm going to splash some water on my face and then I'm going home.
I will not be judged by you or society.
I will wear whatever and blow whomever I want as long as I can breathe and kneel.
That night, Miranda had gone from facing her weight at Weight Watchers to waiting for her Weight Watcher's face.
- Hey give me those gorgeous lips.
- Stop! I can't do that.
- What did I do? - It's not you.
It's me.
Literally me.
I'm all over your face.
- All over.
- Doesn't that happen with other guys? Yes, but not so much.
So what are you saying? I'm a big fat sloppy eater? No.
I'm just worried I might be too many food points.
You making jokes? That's what we do.
Miranda Baby Weight But not when I'm vulnerable and naked.
I'm not comfortable at this weight.
Never mind.
You look great.
- Take a tissue.
- I don't want one.
I want a potpie.
- You don't want a potpie.
- You're right.
I want seven.
I don't think we should see each other any more.
I've got to concentrate on my diet.
I I was just being silly.
Come back to bed.
Do what you were doing.
You're good at it.
Bon appétit.
The bad news was that from then on, Miranda had to go downtown to the notorious Weight Watchers next to the Krispy Kreme, where she wouldn't bump into Tom.
The good news was that she never wanted a glazed doughnut again.
Samantha Jones, please hold.
Hi, Carrie.
- Is she in? OK.
- Hello.
Is she alone? OK.
Knock knock.
See? Live it.
Learn it.
That's all I get for a tailor-made knock knock joke? That's better.
So Two days, four calls, no answer.
I know.
Sorry.
I've been busy.
Do we have to do this? Can't we pretend the whole thing didn't happen? If we don't want to talk on the phone again.
In a few days, it will blow over.
That's an interesting choice of words.
Look - I'm sorry.
- Carrie, stop.
I don't want to do the "I'm sorry" stuff with you.
Anyone else but not you.
You and I are perfect.
Sweetie, as lovely as that idea sounds, we're not perfect.
We're pretty damn close.
Make no mistake.
It's not my personal style.
But I admire your ability to put your sex life out there.
Thank you.
So I brought some looks for my cover.
- I want your opinion.
- You do? Yeah.
Well, just in there.
I did judge you.
Just a little.
And I feel bad.
You were so good to me during the whole Big married man affair.
It's not just you.
I judge me.
Ever since Richard, I don't know who I am.
Just like that, I realised what was under Samantha's fabulous cover.
I'm sorry about the delivery guy.
I had no idea what that must have been like for you.
Until I walked in on Stanford - getting a blow job from Marcus.
- Yeah.
He told me.
This is good.
Just the jacket and legs.
With a sexy pair of shoes Stanford was getting a blow job? I thought he would be - Never mind.
Too judgmental.
- Oh honey, we all thought that.
Here at the camera.
Love that smile.
You look great.
- What's this? - For the cover Good.
You look gorgeous.
Something - Wait, wait.
- What? Sometimes it takes a friend to make a picture perfect.
But a picture-perfect friendship? That's just in books.
- Like it? - Yes.
Isn't she fabulous? Big smile, cover girl.