• Mood: amused
• Music: Sex and the City theme is in my head!

The Year Of Sex, Day One

In the year 2005 I resolve to: Become a slut. Get your resolution here

First time! <-- that is ambiguous, in context. I meant "I didn't even refresh the page!" Hilariously, this isn't that far off ;)

Okay, so, I actually did make a bunch of carefully-worded renunciations and intentions that sounded very pretty in my head and substantially less pretty when said out loud, and they had nothing to do with sex. I need to write them up at some point soon anyway to post them someplace visible, so I'll post them here too when I'm feeling less flippant.

I do rather prefer keenween and my no-one-said-the-word-RESOLUTION-at-this-party to call 2005 "The Year Of Sex" (tm besyd, actually, though she was talking about that fanfic I wrote).

Since, you know, one cannot jump into these without proper research or something, I spend the night watching the entire first disc of Sex and the City. Scott? Cat? EVERYONE ELSE who ever said that I neeeeeed to watch this show? You are so very right. I watched the entire disc because my dad got it from NetFlix and is desperate to exchange it for something horribly sophisticated and literary and probably produced by the BBC, and also because my mother got hooked. She keeps asking me if all my friends are like Samantha ("We wish" "Noooo...") and thinks Charlotte is the sweetest dear.

Then, because I was mid-knitting-section, I stayed downstairs and watched Talk Sex. And then was Bliss (oh, Television For Women), and it was Torri Higginson's episode, which I have already seen... and the really embarrassing part is that I watched it less for "OMG Doctor Weir is doing porn on my parents' TV!" than out of curiosity over what had been censored out of it for American TV. The verdict on that is that none of the mostly-nakedness or the blatant sex was touched, but all the curse words were (impressively seamlessly) edited out. There's some kind of social statement there, I'm sure. The virgin ears of children in this country are safe.

Then... I couldn't resist watching this show called Show Me Yours. It might be new, I'm really not sure, but this was an airing of the pilot episode. It seems to be one of those almost-train-wreck shows, where I can't decide if I'm watching it because it's good and the male lead is hot when he keeps his mouth shut, or because it's so bad I'm compelled to watch. The main character is a young sex psychologist with self-described "people problems" (although her only obvious people problem is that she tells everyone she meets that she has people problems). She, like many girlchildren fanfic writers have bestowed upon Sam, Jack, Daniel, Janet, and anyone else tangentially related to the show over the years, is named after Catherine Langford. That cracked me up enough to keep me watching for half an hour and probably goint to tune in next week, and that's sad.