Nomads living in the Mongolian desert are unaware that the "Sex and the City" movie opens Friday, but they're the exception.

Hype surrounding the new film has outpaced coverage of the presidential election, which is fine with me.

Why? It reminds us there are so many great things one can do rather than spend 90 minutes watching four overdressed, oversexed, overpaid, insufferable women consume overpriced food and drinks while sizing up the men they're sleeping with.

So here's a partial list of what I would rather do than see the movie version of "Sex and the City":

Spend the rest of my life forced to use portable toilets as the only places where I could go to the bathroom.

Have daily dental surgery. (Nothing personal, Dr. Davis.)

Eat cole slaw. That's been left out in the sun a few hours.

Wear an Ottawa Pirates sweatshirt and sit in the middle of The Dawg Pound during the next Ottawa-Streator boys basketball game at Pops Dale Gymnasium in Streator.

Be denied the chance to shower after attending a taping of "The Jerry Springer Show."

Trade my work station for one of those desks usually occupied by fourth-graders.

Return to covering city planning commission meetings.

Have a hot branding iron pressed onto my bare flesh.

Drive a Hummer -- and have to pay for the gas.

Use the same vehicle to commute to work in Wisconsin five days a week.

Take a month off from the newspaper business and earn money detasseling.

Climb the stairs from the bottom of the canyon at Matthiessen State Park, without a break, while it's raining.

Voluntarily give my cell phone number to the top 10 companies in the telemarketing industry.

Become a St. Louis Cardinals fan.

Attend a meeting of the Minuteman Project wearing a "Viva Mexico" shirt and speaking only Spanish.

Be forced to watch a pledge drive whenever I turn over WTTW (Channel 11 public TV).

Occupy an assigned middle seat in coach on a flight to Alaska.

Relive the year 1992 (don't ask).

Hear the doctor say, "You can never eat meat. Ever again."

Wear the same outfit I had on while posing for the group shot on the back cover of my senior year high school yearbook. You know, the short-sleeved pink shirt and the brown, checked pants.

Continue this column. But I have to stop sometime.

MIKE MURPHY is entertainment editor of The Times. Comments and questions can be directed to mikem@mywebtimes.com.