I’ve never taken one of those quizzes that tell you which Sex and the City star you most relate to, though I guess I always figured I’d be Miranda. Now that I’ve seen Sex and the City 2 I realize I’m the Arab guy that has Samantha arrested.

When I saw Liza Minelli’s name in the beginning credits I did my best to put my caricatured-gay-male-hat on and watch from my ruby red slippers. I own those slippers. I wore them when I reviewed Mama Mia and hailed it as the It's a Mad Mad Mad Mad World of our generation.

As the blingy-ting airbrush stars on the Chrysler building went by, I tried to lower my expectations. As it was, I counted four funny lines, two attempts at actual plot; six times I cringed that I had volunteered to see this thing, and about ten moments of "holy hell, what is she wearing?"

I checked my watch twice and three times I thought to myself, this was probably why Dubai refused clearance for filming so they had to shoot in Morocco. I support that decision and wish Morocco had been so wise.

The "plots" seemed to be that a) marriage is boring and b) that kids are maddening. And the weird secret-message part of the movie was that c) men, everywhere, are out to keep down the ladies! The problem is that these women are a nightmare of humanity. I want to keep these women down.

Carrie’s marriage to Mr. Big is a rivalry of whose self-absorption can be the most impenetrable. And the plot feels like a hand of Chicken Soup for the Teenage Soul card game. "You think you’re a bitch and he thinks you’re a bitch, how can this be resolved?" Have you thought about the purchase of a giant diamond?

Charlotte’s marriage is fine but she can’t seem to stand the hour and a half a day she has to spend with her children. I know, it sounds like a nightmare. But you don’t understand… she feels guilty about her bad parenting during the heartbeat that she sees them each day. That might be a plot worth examining at length – oops, Miranda tells her it’s fine over a giant drink, and… we’re done.

Both "plots" have something to do with infidelity - somewhere in the middle - but those have their moment in the sun and we’re back to way too much sternum showing on the crazy skinny aging ladies.

Abu Dhabi.

Watching this movie is like channeling the 50 year old gay guys that I know who keep sleeping with super young dudes who do it so that the old guy will buy them a sweater. Everyone in this movie is acting like they’re at a "bowl of keys" party that should have ended in 1995 and should never be filmed. And I feel like the real man that hates women is the guy that wrote this. Yuck.

--Jackie Kashian