In She Did, the final episode of HBO’s Girls, a lot happened. Marnie moved out (because she lost the cage match); Jessa got married to an investment banker (who probably didn’t sign a prenupt, but probably should have); Shoshanna finally lost her virginity (to Ray — yes, she was that desperate); Elijah confessed to Hannah that he did, in fact, give her HPV (before she turned him gay); Jessa peed in front of Hannah (because this is Girls, so she had to pee in front of someone). But the only really important thing that happened was that Adam told Hannah that he loved her. Hurray? Finally? Victory? No. After the declaration, everything went sour. Why? Because nothing in this world makes any damn sense.
In episode nine of Lena Dunham’s Girls — Leave Me Alone — best friends Marnie and Hannah get into a toothbrush-whipping, insult-hurling, door-slamming fight. Yawn. That spat was in the offing since episode one, when Marnie got to see Hannah’s boobs but wouldn’t reciprocate the kindness. Clearly, the friendship was one sided, and based on Hannah giving and Marnie taking. Well, until Marnie gave unemployed Hannah a roof over her head and food to eat, all in return for the displeasure of hearing Adam molest Hannah through the paper thin walls. How did Marnie cope with the smell? Anyway, the real question is, when the hair pulling, cat scratching, boot stomping part of the fight begins — one can only hope, in episode 10 — who will win? Here’s how I think it will go.
Hannah: 24-years-old, short, stocky and unemployed. She lives on a self-destructive mix of opium tea, cupcakes and misery (also known as Adam), and what she lacks in stamina — she once collapsed in the middle of the street during a light jog — she makes up for in complete and utter shamelessness (would she have really slept with her old, pervey boss?).
When Lena Dunham’s Girls first premiered, I thought Adam Sackler was straight up repulsive. Eight episodes in, I’m on the fence. On one hand, he’s a foul-mouthed perve with no job, no prospects and no shirt. But there’s an endearing quality to someone as unfiltered, boyish and impulsive as Adam. He basically says everything that crosses his mind and does whatever he wants to. So, like Jessa, I’m not sure if he’s “a great thinker, or just a total fucking idiot.” Below, what makes me want to vomit, and what I find sweet.
Two words: Golden showers. No, three words (because there are some people who would actually find that hot): Unsolicited golden showers. The only thing more disturbing is that Hannah didn’t break up with him instantly. Or call the cops or the fire department or Amnesty International. Nasty.
On The Crackcident — episode seven of Lena Dunham’s Girls — Marnie, Hannah, Jessa and Shoshanna go to a warehouse party in Bushwick, Brooklyn. Jessa hopes that it will be the “best party ever” (which is why she stole her outfit from a Lady Gaga backup dancer), but between the four of them, they manage to make the night seem more like a bad after school special. And, like all after school specials, there are serious life lessons to be learned. Here are the key takeaways.
Lesson 1: Your ex-boyfriend doesn’t want to say hi. Why? Because if you are like Marnie, you look like a crusty “school teacher,” or worse, “one of those Real Housewives”: a high-strung, self-centered priss wearing a too-tight cocktail dress and and a tart, desperate look that says “you miss my face, right?” And, if your ex is like Charlie, he won’t miss your face. He’s too smart, and has already moved on with a lithe young thing like Aubrey, who twirls around him like a stripper on a pole. Strangely, Marnie can’t understand how Charlie could get over their sexless, emotionally void relationship so quickly. But let’s be honest, after being with someone so frigid, he would probably sprint toward a flying monkey with a bad case of ticks.
Even though we’re only six episodes in, there have been some noticeable trends on Lena Dunham’s Girls — gross guys, cupcakes, more gross guys. But on the latest episode — The Return — there was evidence of the most alarming trend by far: surprising someone with a little butt play. Here’s what I mean:
Hannah travels home to Lansing, Michigan to celebrate her parents’ wedding anniversary. But instead of spending time with her family, she meets a young man with farm boy good looks and wavy blond hair — Eric — who is a huge improvement from her previous boyfriend Adam, the jobless, brainless, shirtless wonder.
On the fifth episode of Lena Dunham’s Girls (Hard Being Easy) everyone got what they wanted (well, except for Shoshanna – she’s still a virgin). Here’s what I mean:
Hannah got some material for her memoir
True, her rumply, roly-poly boss shot her down, depriving her of a good workplace sexual harassment story. But at least Adam Sackler (who, by the way, almost looks not gross wearing safety glasses) sexploited her in a new and humiliating way — dumping her than asking her to watch him jerk off. In the memoir, I’m assuming this episode will come before the chapters where Hannah checks herself into cupcake rehab then becomes a lesbian.
I’m not entirely sure if anything significant happened on the most recent episode of Lena Dunham’s Girls, titled All Adventurous Women Do. Hannah ate a cupcake in the bathroom. Marnie had sex with herself at a party. Shoshanna didn’t have sex with anyone. The biggest plot development was Adam Sackler possibly giving Hannah HPV, but considering his head-to-toe grossness, is that really so shocking? Hannah and company did say a whole bunch of random stuff, though. And I guess that’s significant. Or at least funny. Here’s a collection of the highlights, and to make the dialogue slightly less random, a translation.
Marnie to Charlie: “You look scary to me, like Mickey Mouse without the ears.”
Translation: Before you shaved your head, you used to look like a too-cute children’s cartoon that I didn’t want to have sex with. Now that you’ve shaven your head, you look like a deformed children’s cartoon that I don’t want to have sex with.
Obviously, Lena Dunham’s new dramedy, Girls, isn’t about men. But as a guy, I have to complain a little about how grossness of the dudes on the show. To be plain, Dunham’s character, Hannah, is dating Frankenstein, and her best-friend Marnie is dating a 12-year-old girl trapped in a 16-year-old boy’s body. Let’s have a look:
He’s dense, poorly-shaven and unemployed, but that’s not the worst of it. Adam seems to have learned about sex from a curious mix of raunchy porn movies and professional hockey. What girl doesn’t like being surprised by a little anal action, or hearing sweet nothings like: “You’re a dirty little whore and I’m going to send you home to your parents covered in cum?” But I can see why Hannah likes him. Not only does he have special skills — ejaculating in the shape of Africa takes a lot of hand-penis coordination — he can also be quite considerate. Offering Hannah a bottle of orange Gatorade after she “almost cums” shows that he cares about her, and doesn’t want her getting too dehydrated. After five minutes of traumatizing sex, though, I think Hannah should be reaching for the gin.
In the first episode of HBO’s much-hyped new dramedy, Girls, the central character, Hannah Horvath, quips “it costs a lot of money to look this cheap.” The line is borrowed from Dolly Parton, but instead of too much makeup and rhinestone-studded clothing, Horvath (played by the show’s creator Lena Dunham) and her friends wear disheveled vintage rags (from the best stores) and carefully blend a Hippie nomad/world-weary artist/spoiled preppy aesthetic (think drape-y blouses, fedoras and broad-shouldered overcoats). They live in bourgeois-bohemian squalor in the hipster-packed neighbourhood of Greenpoint, Brooklyn. Horvath shares an apartment with her roomate Marnie Michaels, and their place suits their clothes: slightly rusty chairs around a Saarinen tulip table; a bathroom decked in trendy white subway tiles with a gaudy floral shower curtain. Horvath’s boyfriend, Adam Sackler (whose last name, fittingly, is an obvious anagram for slacker), is a carpenter-actor-louse whose apartment is even more elegantly disheveled: a tarnished mirror, an typewriter, scraps of his carpenting wood, a plush but ratty settee.