We were too busy trying to find something to watch on TV to actually attend the Sex and the City 2 premiere. Luckily fictional freelancer Betsey Morgenstern went in our stead. Here is her adventure.

Tales of the City
 by Betsey Morgenstern

Every creature in America with a vagina is very excited that Sex and the City 2 is opening this week, and they would have been equally excited to attend last night's premiere at Radio City Music Hall. There was even a Magnolia bakery, like, two blocks away—not that any of the women who star in the movie can afford to each such things, since they're all on a steady diet of Pilates, kombucha, and sugar-free gum. Here's what I saw when I got behind the velvet rope and got to the heart of the City.

[Images via Getty]

As soon as I arrived, a little PR girl who looked like the daughter of Rachel Zoe and a garden gnome ran up to Kim Cattrall, who was greeting the throng of screaming fans in front of the theater.

"Ms. Cattrall, you told me to alert you when Betsey Morgenstern had checked in. She's right over there," the little dwarf said.

"Thank you, now get away," Cattrall hissed then drastically changed her tune to sing-songingly coo, "Yoo-hoo! Betsey."

Ugh, it was time to talk to my stalker. "Oh, Hi Kim. Thanks for the flowers."

"Oh, you got them?" she rhetorically asked. "Did you get the box of thongs I sent too?"

"Actually yeah, but..."

"Will you model them for me later?"

"Kim, you know that I'm really not interested in..."

"Well, I'm staying at The Standard. You know, the one with the big windows that overlooks the park? Why don't you come over around 1 and we'll put on a show."

"I really don't think..."

"Great, I'll see you then. I'm in room 1149. Be sure to wear one of those thongs!"

Then it was inside to the red carpet, which was actually blue for some reason and looked like the receiving line of a cheap wedding somewhere outside of Tallahassee. The first person I spotted was Ivanka Trump.

"Ivanka, you're looking terrible. And your outfit is awful," I told her.

"What? I'm not Ivanka."

"Oh, no, who are you?"

"I'm Candace Bushnell."

"Who?"

"I wrote the column this whole thing is based on. You know, in the Observer? I'm the whole reason you moved to this town, you silly little bitch, give me some respect."

"Well, maybe if you didn't dress like a school girl on LSD," I said as she walked away. God, some people are so ungrateful.

"Liza! Hey, Liza! How many hips have you had replaced?"

We knew that Cynthia Nixon came out years ago, but it was really ballsy of her to wear pants to a fancy movie premiere.

"This is a really brave look. Aren't you afraid you look to gay," I asked her.

"Why, because of the makeup?"

"No, women are supposed to wear makeup, because of the pants and the blazer."

"I wear pants everyday, lady. And makeup too," she countered.

"But usually for the premiere you put on some kind of dress so that you look all sexy and lady-like."

"Johnny Weir never looks like a lady, he only looks like himself," the butch dyke said and stomped away.

But then she magically reappeared wearing a beautiful dress and less makeup.

"Cynthia, how did you change so fast?"

"What are you talking about, dear?"

"You were just here wearing a little suit and T-shirt and all this makeup and now you're in a gown."

"No, I've only had this gown on. God, what I wouldn't do for some pants right now. I even have on this horrible thong that Kim Cattrall sent me this morning. Have you ever gotten a box of of thongs delivered in the mail?"

"Yeah. Yeah, I have."

Oh my god, look, it's Punky Brewster! And she brought Cherie and Margaux with her to the premiere. Wow, she's like all old and stuff now. Older than I would have thought, since we are about the same age. Poor Punky.

"Hey, Punky, I haven't seen you decades. What are you up to now?"

"I'm picking out clothes for stars! I picked out all the outfits for this whole mess of a movie."

"Wow, you went from not being able to match your own shoes to styling Carrie and the girls."

"Yeah, I got my own store too. It's called Patricia Field. We specialize in crazy club kid clothes. Come by and check out our newest product, the Kim Cattrall Box O' Thongs."

"Thanks, but I already have one."

Oh my god, it's Punky's foster father George.

"George," I yell and he doesn't even look my way. "George!" I yell even louder and he turns his head. "How are you, George?" I yell slowly in that way you use when you need to get an old person's attention.

He just nods his head.

"Don't even try," his blond companion said. "I just hope he hears how much my bill is at the end of the night."

After my run-in with the decrepit cast of Punky Brewster, I started a nice chat with my old friend Padma Lakshmi. I was asking her about her new baby.

"Well, Krishna is just a darling. She's really brought a whole new light into my life. Before everything was so hectic, but now I just want to lay with her and be calm and serene. I swear, I never thought..."

And before she could finish her sentence, this broad jumped right in between the two of us and started posing.

"What, I'm on Gossip Girl. You know you want to take my picture. What!" she said with her hand on her hip and shifting her weight from side to side like it was her first photo shoot on America's Next Top Model.

"Excuse me, who do you think you are?" Padma asked, a little irritated.

"Duh, I'm Jessica Szohr. What!"

"More like Jessica Whore!"

"What did you say to me? What!"

"Oh, you heard me. I was here talking to this nice lady reporter, Betty..."

"Betsey."

"Yeah, whatever. I was talking to her and you came right up and got in between us and we weren't done talking yet."

"What!" Jessica said, turning around and showing the back of her hand to Padma and facing me. "I'm sure she'd rather talk to me anyway. And all the paparazzi want my picture. What!"

"Oh, really? I am going to fuck you up, girl."

"What? What!"

"I said, I am about to unpack my knife and go crazy on you, you stupid little bitch."

Padma lunged at her and the two fell to the ground and I figured that's when it was time to move on.

From hate to love, I decided to saddle up to the country's most unlikely new couple, Howard Stern and Mario Cantone. Sure, Howard brought along his wife, but he only had eyes for one much shorter man. While kissing and canoodling on the carpet, I heard Mario say to Howard, "I got a box of thongs in the mail this morning. Guess what color I'm wearing?"

"Purple?"

"You know it baby, just for you, my little purple nurple."

And then they rubbed noses together so that they could keep talking while making out. A loud-mouthed union made in heaven.

Oh look, there's the lady of the hour, Sarah Jessica Parker, and her ever-supportive husband Matthew Broderick.

"Don't make me do it, Sarah. Not another one," he said.

"Come on, you'll be fine."

"I just hate them, you know. Kristin is so mean to me, Cynthia always asks about my pants, and Kim, well, she just ignores me. And then there's all the people. I just want to go home and hang out with the kids."

"Well, Matthew, that's nice and all, but that's all you ever do. Some of us have to work, you know. And if I don't do these things, no one will go to the movie and then I can't work. Then we can both sit around with the kids—in a refrigerator box in the Port Authority, because that's where we'll be living."

"OK, fine. But you can't make me talk to Kristin. I'm scared of her."

Wow, why would a grown man be so scared of Kristin Davis? She always seemed so nice and sweet and she was on Melrose Place. Everyone who was on that show was always so nice...or crazy.

It appeared that she saw them coming in and then turned around in obvious disgust. I was about to go up and ask her about her strange hatred when I saw her talking to some old queen and Chris Noth. "Tell him about what you said to Matthew at the last premiere," the old queen queen told Kristin.

"Haha. Oh," Kristin laughed. "Well, he came up to me and said, 'Nice outfit, Kristin,' or something annoying like that and I said, 'If you ever talk to me again you fat, out-of-work, washed-up Ferris Bueller, I will cut your balls off and feed them to a pack of starving Chihuahuas.' And he just turned around and walked away. Hahaha."

"Lady, you are fucking psycho!" Noth said.

"Haha. No, Chris it's funny," she said putting her arm around his shoulder. "And if you ever talk to me again..."