If you’ve heard about the backlash targeted at Lena Dunham recently, than you may have read a myriad of reactions to one singular passage Dunham describes in her memoir, Not That Kind of Girl . Dunham recounts an episode as a seven-year old where she touched her sister’s genitals and allegedly found pebbles therein — supposedly put there by the younger sibling as a prank. The description is graphic, visceral, and perhaps asks more questions than it answers about Dunham’s childhood, despite her claim that this was among the things she would do. Continue reading
Lena Dunham
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I usually don’t drink on Monday nights, but this week’s episode of Girls had me breaking out the only thing I had in the house: Sake. It was necessary. Graphic bukkake and punctured eardrums were only a mere taste of what made this episode so down-to-the-pit-of-my-stomach disturbing. But I don’t mean that in a bad way — I loved the episode. After all, I intimately know each and every one of these grotesque characters. I have been them all in one way or another when I was in my 20s. Don’t lie and say you haven’t been one of them either, at least a little bit.
This is why I am infatuated with Girls and am sad there is only one episode left.
I’m looking at this show through the eyes of a 42-year-old woman. And a lot has changed since my 20s, but reflecting back I remember the intense highs and lows, all the feelings and the need to find my “voice” and the “meaning” in just about everything. There’s the of finding the “one”, the acceptance of bad behaviors in friends, lovers and myself, the awkward sex, the power-shifts in friendships and relationships, the knowing everything, the knowing nothing, the million and one spiritual journeys, the hating and needing my parents and the true belief that I was the special-est snowflake in the whole universe.
I also remember it being a great time and experiencing some of the best moments of my life. Late night talks were everything and I was never more daring and open. Continue reading
You can never say that Lena Dunham’s millennial offering isn’t both risky and risqué. Sunday’s episode found us plunged into cocaine experimentation and what happens when there’s sex amongst the dolls. SPOILERS AHEAD! Continue reading
Oh, mercy. Remember all that hubbub about Dunham’s hit Girls not having many, if any, people of color on the show? The answer to all of those concerns, you know, about non-whites solely being considered just a part of NYC’s eclectic backdrop, is to throw Donald Glover, Childish Gambino to his friends (Troy to his lovers) onto the show as a “handsome Republican named Sandy” whom it’s believed will be dating Dunham’s character in season 2. Continue reading
Far be it from me to tell someone not to write until their heart’s content. I maintain that putting pen to paper, or filling up a blinking cursor with type, can be as cathartic as anything else experienced. However, that doesn’t make it very good, or worth $3.7 Million. And it begs the question if Lena Dunham hadn’t struck a sort of millennial gold with her HBO show, Girls, would the world know about her musings on ice pops, celibacy, and diaries? Continue reading
If nothing else, maybe Girls will convince everyone who watches that contraception should always be used. Continue reading
Picture this: You’re 24 and two years out of college with nothing to show for it except an unpaid internship you have been at for over a year. You get by on your parents’ monthly donation and do not expect that to end anytime in the foreseeable future. You live with your best friend, Marnie, who happens to be dating a guy she can hardly stand but keeps him around for, well, we don’t know why she keeps him around. Your friend, Jessa, has just moved back to New York City from Paris and is all long blonde hair and oozes bohemian sex vibes. Jessa is staying with her cousin, Shoshanna, who could be accurately described as a “Sex and the City Victim.” You know the type, thinking life is going to full of pink drinks and mind-blowing sex, thanks to Carrie Bradshaw and her cohorts. Lastly, there’s your fuck buddy, Adam. He routinely ignores your texts and is an unsatisfying lover anyway.
Meet Hannah Horvath. This is her story. Continue reading