It's a warm, sunny day and I'm stuck at my desk until 5:00. So, I'm emptying out my brain like it was my purse:

+ I went 'down da shore' for the first time in my life. Apparently, this is somewhat of a summer tradition if you live in the mid-Atlantic states. Thankfully, it was less like MTV's True Life: I'm a Jersey Shore Girl and more like a pretty chill Memorial Day Weekend. I learned that a good 90% of food at the shore is fried within an inch of its life and if you eat it, your stomach will stage a violent coup. I also learned that pretty much every shop on the boardwalk sells exactly the same merchandise and that the sun harbors a serious grudge against me. I have a forehead the size of a movie screen (regular, not IMAX) and UV rays gun for it after it like Dina Lohan scrambling for her fifteen minutes.

+ Why is Lisa in the final four in Top Chef? She's a mediocre cook and I'm so over her defensive attitude and paranoia. Homegirl messed up rice twice so I'm thinking she needs to pack her knives and GTFO.

+ Speaking of things that need to GTFO, someone needs to forward that memo to the cold I have. I feel like I've been kicked in the head by a menopausal rhino. On the plus side, though? I can totally relate to Denis Leary's love of NyQuil (Google it, kids).

+ I have the same vision as Pam Beesley (20/400) and the same bra size as Rachel Green (you can figure that one out for yourself). I know this because Wikipedia and I are BFFE.

+ I saw the Sex and the City movie opening night and it was an experience unlike any other.

The audience was 90% women. The other 10%? The world's most disconsolate men, men who were way better groomed than I ever will be and one very confused child who was obviously just there for the popcorn (sidebar: $17 for popcorn and two Diet Cokes?! If you're going to rob me blind, at least have the decency to wear a ski mask and corner me in a dark alley). Of this 90%, a good 30% of these women actually dressed up for the screening. Now, being incomparably dorky, I've attended numerous screenings where people dress up like their favorite characters. I've encountered Jedis, Indys and more than a few superheroes but never have I ever witnessed a gaggle of women in cocktail dresses, heels and full make-up at the movies. I have to admit though, it was pretty fabulous. Cocktail dresses should be acceptable attire everywhere. Ditto flip flops (any movement on that yet?).

Speaking of the audience, in addition to unsolicited advice and "sassy" affirmations, I was also subject to raucous whooping whenever all four ladies met on screen, when Carrie wore her famous opening credits tutu dress and when the audience caught a glimpse of her sizable shoe collections (although, I have to admit that I felt a hard jolt of envy when I saw her Louboutins. What? They're delicious).I'm all for interaction to a certain degree (laughter, a gasp during a shocking moment, a sniffle during a particularly tender and touching scene), but come on! This isn't Rocky Horror.

As for the movie itself -- If you're a die-hard fan, you'll probably love it.

If you're a dude who's never seen the show and couldn't tell a Manolo from a pashmina, you'll hate it.

If you're someone who kinda dug the show, appreciated the clothes and watched to catch a glimpse of Ron Livingston (i.e.: me), you'll find it a little long and the kind of movie that requires some serious suspension of disbelief (There's no way Carrie could ever afford her swanky NYC digs or designer labels on a columnist's salary and in all honesty, the characters have become self-parodying charactures of who they were on the show).

But, if you take it for what it is (cinematic cotton candy clothed in coutour), it's a pretty sweet way to spend an evening.