It's the end of the world as I know it

Laying in bed last night, attempting sleep, DH was flipping channels on the television (oh, where did you think this was going), when I hear the grating voice of Bill-O. Reilly, if I need to elaborate. Anyway, he was opining on the hoopla that is the Sex In The City movie. Why the popularity? Why were woman flocking in droves to see this cinematic WTF, like so many tweens to a Hannah Montana concert?

The interviewee on the other end stated that "women see themselves in the characters". Swimming out of half-sleep, I hear Bill-O reply along the lines of, "I don't think women go to this movie 'see' themselves in the characters. They go for the shoes and the clothes and the gossip and the dish".

"Hmmm, yeah, ya got something there, Bill-O..." I murmur as I turn my pillow over to the cool side.

*enter sound of needle scratching across a spinning LP*

Whoa, wait. I agree with Bill-O? It's a dream, tell me, oh Morpheus, it's a dream, right?

Soooooo not seeing myself here.