Tuesday , January 26, 2010
All-Time Top 5: Reasons Why I Wouldn't Mind Spending 10 Minutes Alone in a Room with Jack Berger
"I'm a Carrie."
I hate this about myself- it is tragic, humbling and embarrassing. Coming to terms with my innate "Carrie-ness" (I used to claim I was a "Carrie/Miranda hybrid," but that was total bullshit. As if I'd ever go to Harvard!) is a real benchmark in my journey toward self-acceptance. If I am in a group of four, and we are deciding who we'd be if we were Sex and the City characters (this happens frequently, because I spearhead it. I mean, what else are you gonna do after you've figured out which Beatles y'all are?), I am always the Carrie. Like Carrie Bradshaw, I am obnoxious, self-involved, small, a writer, make dumb jokes when people are trying to tell me important stories about their lives, wear wacky clothes, call people by their last names, have a major penchant for "get[ting] up on my sassy horse," and would be hella stoked on the possibility of dating Jack "Berger" Berger.
On Thursday, in a lame attempt to high-concept shit up, I decided to make my evening into a parody of "The Single Woman's Night In." I got stoned (maybe not all single women get stoned, but the cool ones do at least), changed into unwashed jammers, and rented Season Six of Sex & the City on DVD. Also, in a move paying some serious homage to the SatC ep where Miranda feels judged by the chick from her Chinese take-out place, I ordered Thai take-out from the Thai place I frequent, frequently. Surprise, surprise- the chick judged me.
Such shaming is par for the course when you're a Singleton. Whatevs- this is the life, my coupled counterparts. It's so lovely to come home after a long day of Singletonism and spend my evening hanging out with my fake boyfriend, New York City-based novelist Jack "Jack of Hearts" Berger. He's the best fake boyfriend, and here's why:
I. HE IS NEITHER JOHN BIG NOR AIDAN SHAW
Besides Smith Jerrod when he wears a ski mask and screams "SHUT THE FUCK UP" like seventeen billion times, Jack Berger is the sole SatC love interest I would even consider dating. On the whole "Big v. Aidan," tip, I'm 100% pro-Big, but mostly because Aidan Shaw sucks so unbearably hard that I really can't imagine picking him over anyone, except Hitler.
Aidan's favourite band is probably the Dave Matthews Band. He probably refers to them as "Dave." Additionally, Aidan is ugly. You know the episode where Carrie and Berger go on their first date (to see "Craig's Room" and hate it), and Carrie runs into Aidan on the street, and he turns around with his dumb baby strapped to his chest? I have never seen a man look worse in my life. Also, leave it to Aidan Shaw to name his baby the most hideous name ever: "Tate."
Big, however, also sucks. The only thing I like about Big is how him and Carrie share cigarettes after sex; that's sexy. Otherwise, Big is an overgrown baby who masks his self-loathing behind Rat Pack-inspired bravado. He's hotter than Aidan, but who isn't? Furthermore, the scene where Big shows up at Aidan's cabin upstate in his stupid Beemer or whatevs and drunked-ly sings "I'm in a New York state of mind" is so revolting that it makes Aidan seem comparatively not-that-gross.
Harry Goldenblatt is a sweetie, but not my type. Trey "Barf" MacDougal is the pukemeister of all life; Richard Wright is such a nasty skeeze, he makes Dave Davies seem like a goddamned monk. It's not really worth opening up the whole Aleksandr Petrovsky can of worms: in short, "The Russian" is a creepy creep. And don't even get me started on Steve "Mi-wwwaahh-ynda" Brady. In the words of Jack Berger himself, "He's obviously a weenie."
II. HE IS HOT
Yes, it is true. Jack Berger is hot. No, that's not true. Jack Berger is not hot, because Jack Berger doesn't exist. There is no Jack Berger, Laura Jane Faulds. Jack Berger is a character on a television show played by an actor named Ron Livingston, who is a Gemini. The truth is: "Ron Livingston" is hot. Another truth: I love Office Space. You probably didn't know that about me.
Moving along-
Jack Berger is hot. Jack/Ron Berger-Livingston is the exact level of hot that I look for in a dude. In real life, Don Draper hotness-level dudes are way too hot for my tastes, not to mention "out of my league." I'm into dudes who fall into the category of "slightly above average." If I spotted Jack Berger in a bar, I would immediately name him my "prospect." His presence would motivate me to get drunker. Once I was drunker, I would stare at him with shifty, nervous eyes. Upon making eye contact, I would flash him the ol' Laura Jane "lopsided half-smile." That's my big "making dudes fall in love with me" move. Really innovative stuff here, I know. Good old "eye contact and a half-smile"! Works like a charm, every time.
If, by "every time," I mean, "at no time."
III. BED, BATH & BEYOND IS THE BEST DATE LOCATION EVER
I know this for a fact, because once I went on a real live date to the exact Bed, Bath & Beyond (Avenue of the Americas at 16th Street, I think) that Berger & Carrie go to. It was a really great date. Also, "Cafe Beyond" is my twelfth-favourite restaurant on the entire island of Manhattan.
(Aside: isn't it adorable how proud I am of the fact that I went on a date once?)
Jack Berger is really talented at cute-dating. From his initial "I'm a big fan of the screen- well-played!" voicemail to the cute revolving-door maneuver he pulls on the "Craig's Room" date to when he "makes the bed more like a restaurant" the morning after he and Carrie get "Drunkity-drunk-drunk," homeboy knows how to make a brainy chick swoon.
He also drives a motorcycle, is a writer, swipes playing cards off the street, and is best buds with Michael Showalter. Jack Berger is a dude who knows how to have a good time. He would so be down to pretend that we were bro-and-sis and then creep out Normies by sloppily making out in front of them!
Which, as we all know, is the only thing I want in a man.
IV. HE'S AN EMOTIONAL EATER
That's hot. I need a dude who can motherfucking eat. Is there anything in this world wussier than a dude who counts calories and drinks diet soda? Ew. Grow a pair. Another great Jack Berger moment is when he and Carrie are having their infamous "scrunchie fight," and he compulsively, self-loathingly steals a hundred sloppy bites of her chocolate souffle across the table. That's some serious "insane person behavior," which I am all over. Jack Berger is "An Insane," and that's another Laura Jane dealbreaker-
See, I often discuss "Normies v. Non-Normies" on nogoodforme.com, but rarely delve into its "sister debate," "Sanes v. Insanes." In this life, some of us are Sanes, and some of us are Insanes. You can be a sane Insane- I am one, for instance- but you can't be an insane Sane. Sanes are only ever sane, and they'll never understand.
I don't date Sanes anymore. I dated a Sane, once. He was a really good person, but his surplus of sanity always left me feeling like shit about my own sanity-deficit, because Sanes are nonstop accusing Insanes of either "over-reacting" or "making a bad choice," when really Insanes are just "listening to the deepest depths of their emotional selves" or "making a risky, and probably bad, but possibly cool, choice."
I don't know if Carrie Bradshaw is a Sane or an Insane, and I don't know what her zodiac sign is, either (Gemini? Virgo? Sagittarius? Aquarius?). But I know that I'm an Insane Cancer, and that Berger is an insane Scorpio (I mean, I'm making up that Berger's a Scorp, but, like, it's true), and that we'd be good together.
I bet Jack Berger listens to "She's About A Mover" by the Sir Douglas Quintet constantly.
"Nuggets Two is way better," I'd say.
He'd shake his head, and squint. Then, we'd make out. God I love Insanes.
V. HE'S "JUST NOT THAT INTO" CARRIE BRADSHAW
In the end, we, as women, are supposed to collectively "hate" Jack Berger, because he oh-so-fucked-ly broke up with Carrie on a Post-It note reading, "I'm sorry, I can't. Don't hate me." But I don't, I mean can't, hate Jack Berger for this, and here's why:
1) The Post-It break-up ultimately motivated Carrie Bradshaw to get stoned, which is always a good idea in my books.
2) Jack Berger broke up with Carrie Bradshaw because he is too good for her.
If I was dating somebody semi-okay, and realized that they were actually a loser, not to mention the world's crappiest writer- the kind of idiot who says bullshit faux-bon-mots along the lines of "If you're tired, you take a nap-a, you don't go to Napa!"- I'd probably break up with them on a Post-It too!
Actually, in my time, I've done way worse than break up with somebody on a Post-It. Who hasn't?
In the end, I think "Darren Starr," or whoever-the-fuck wrote the Jack Berger episodes of Sex and the City, wanted us to learn something "big" from the black-hearted tragedy of Jack and Carrie's break-up. I think he was operating from beneath the assumption that we would all auto-believe Berger & Carrie were the perfect match, and that therefore, the harshness of the relationship's end would prove the point that "perfect" doesn't exist. Oh, how "like life" it is, that Carrie ended up with Big, who only ever treated her like a pile of garbage, who she seemingly has nothing in common with, who seemingly doesn't even really like her at all!
Fuck that. Being intelligent, I can only interpret Berger & Carrie's break-up as being proof that- if these idiotic, one-dimensional human beings were real people, and not just Ron Livingston and Sarah Jessica Parker being videotaped- "perfect" does exist. Jack Berger broke up with Carrie Bradshaw on a Post-It note, was fucked up about it for about five seconds, and then moved on with this life.
Seven years later, Berger met a skulky brunette fashion blogger with Beatles tattoos and a heart of scratched-up platinum. She read his novel, and found the scrunchie-inclusion to be a charming touch- indicative of the cluelessness of an otherwise impenetrable female lead. Every Thursday night, they binge-watched episodes of LOST on DVD togeths, got Thai take-out, and were nowhere near bored enough to feel judged by the chick who worked there.
Carrie Bradshaw ended up with a boring stockbroker with an ugly last name. Steve Brady and Mi-wwwaahh-ynda Hobbes walked across the Brooklyn Bridge, and decided they liked each other after all.
The dish ran away with the spoon, and everything was perfect. Sex and the City is the best TV show ever.
Tags: Aleksandr Petrovksy, Bed Bath & Beyond, Big v. Aidan, Carrie Bradshaw, Don Draper, Jack Berger, Mi-wwwaahh-ynda Hobbes, Normies v. Non-Normies, quotation marks, Ron Livingston, Sane v. Insane, Sanes v. Insanes, Sex and the City, Sho, Singletonism, weenies
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8 Comments!!
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Looks like Carrie's a Gemini, according to her birthday on Wikipedia. Any thoughts on that?
I love the Post-It episode. That, and the other one where they smoke weed, "Hot Child in the City", are two of my favorites.
By Kristen on July 5, 2009 4:29 PM
Whoa! Wikipedia!
Charlotte is a Cancer! Big is an Aries!
By Laura
on July 5, 2009 9:54 PM
Oh man, I am laughing so hard thinking about that moment with Aidan and his stupidly named baby! Wasn't he also wearing an unflattering texas tuxedo at the time?
By crocodilian on July 5, 2009 10:04 PM
Oh man, I am laughing so hard thinking about that moment with Aidan and his stupidly named baby! Wasn't he also wearing an unflattering texas tuxedo at the time?
By crocodilian on July 5, 2009 10:05 PM
was he ever!
By Laura
on July 5, 2009 11:35 PM
fun fact: that stupidly named baby is apparently SJP's bb in real life. i read this on the interwebz recently but haven't seen that episode since. he apparently smiles when she walks up.
By kristin on July 6, 2009 4:10 PM
I was soooo into Berger! I never got the appeal of any of those other dudes.
By Samantha on July 10, 2009 12:29 AM
Lame that I am only now seeing this post a week+ after the fact but had I seen it earlier I wouldn't have had my "running in to Mr. Big (er..I mean, Chris Noth) on the street in front of Pete's Coffee" story - true stroy, happened last friday. I'm definitely a Berger fan but also agree Big definitely trumps Aidan(x100,000). Seeing Mr. Big in the flesh trumps them all I'm afraid.
Also, Why is it that I was also compelled to google CB's starsign - only further proving that I am, in sad fact, a Carrie.
PS:"It's midnight. The official end to what will now be known as 'the day I got arrested for smoking a doobie" I love that episode.
By tahda on July 13, 2009 7:24 PM