Good craze and bad craze

Zumba eh. Stupid name. Infomercial craze. Its advocates? A bunch of suckers. All of them.

But ... Zumba got 100 or so locals of all shapes, sizes, genders, ethnicities and dress-styles shaking and shimmying together for an hour in Morningside on Monday night. I joined in. Only because I believe you can not comment on such trends until you have done your research.

And my verdict? Sure I spent the first 15 minutes giggling at the back of the class because people were whooping and it was like actually being on the infomercial. But um, I might just go back. Actually, I will go back. I have made a date with my BFF.

I think Zumba might have done for infomercials what Robert Pattinson did for vampires: made them not only sexy, but actually, possibly, believable. Not that I find Robert Pattinson to be either of those things (if I must, then I lean towards Taylor Lautner's Jacob), but as I have sat through two films in the vampire series, I can at least almost see where people are coming from when they fizz over the third instalment's imminent release.

Anyway. Just as I decided to ignore the ratings and rants and check out both Zumba and Twilight, I ignored the warnings and watched Sex And The City 2 the other night. I figured, like Zumba and Robert Pattinson, the latest moves of Carrie Bradshaw were essential to every modern girl's gossip commentary.

Back in the day, I watched Sex And The City (the television series) like a documentary. I'm not ashamed. It was kind of true to life - most fans were able to point out the Carrie, Miranda, Charlotte and Samantha among their gal pals. And who cares what people said about Sarah Jessica's elephant mole, the series was well-scripted and exceptionally well-wardrobed.

But now, after not one, but two tragic movies, Carrie Bradshaw is dead to me. Was it her wearing a poofy purple gown in the Abu Dhabi markets or the fact that she wore her sunglasses on a stick? Or that horrible pun about Jude Law? Or that the logic did not stack up when she and her ladies had separate limos and bedrooms and servants but were made to share camels?

Sorry Carrie. It was all more far-fetched than the idea of a bedroom full of toys coming to life and staging a revolt against life in a daycare centre (FYI Toy Story 3 - a film I am really looking forward to, probably because it is not aimed at me).

I guess it was closure. I never have to watch SATC ever again. Nor dream that column-writing will earn me Manolo Blahniks.

It's okay. I have found my replacement a little closer to home, in the form of Cody, Britta, Kevin, Olivia and Brad. And Amy (she may have left but she still features in the opening credits).

TV2's top-rating Thursday show Go-Girls wraps for a second time this week, which comes as rather tragic news to me, as it is officially my new must-watch documentary. The characters' traits can be matched to my friends. Takapuna's Sentinel building may not be a match for the Empire State, but the setting has become a character in itself. There is a credible mix of redhead, brunette, and blonde (the WAGs). And this season (perhaps thanks to Olivia bringing some style back from New York) their outfits were almost as fantastic and their predicaments almost as tangled as those of Carrie, Samantha, Charlotte and Miranda.

Fortunately, I won't have to watch box-set re-runs for too long as a third season is just around the corner. Fingers crossed no one spoils the fun by turning it into a mediocre movie or, worse, ruining it forever with a dreadful sequel.