Photo: Courtesy of HBO/Craig Blankenhorn.
Oh, goodness gracious me. Dear, oh dear, this was the Girls episode that I have been waiting for. This is the one that speaks to my creative, living-in-Brooklyn soul. The one that reminds me that this show has set its laser beam dead-bang at my forehead, and I am living inside of its crosshairs. Which is okay, because fortunately I am a fully formed, real human being, not just some hilarious facsimile of the environments both myself and Hannah have shared. And, there have been many.
"I'm used to people being belittled by my rapid-fire mind-pace."
Without us opening up our metaphorical cows and showing exactly how the beef has made, Ray calls Hannah out like any jaded New Yorker. She didn't just get a job at GQ, she got a job making paid, sponsored content at GQ. And, this isn't just because some businesses have found their niche making sponsored content interesting and un-soulless, but let us call a spade a spade: When you want to make money writing, you have to, um, be a bit flexible. And, let me step down from the semi-authoritative, neutral space that I am given by being some words on a screen and say that those of us who make the Internet our preferred manner of art-making can attest to this. It isn't easy out there for budding Margaret Atwoods or young Anne Carsons. Sometimes you just gotta, you know, come up with the Field Guide for the Urban Man to pay your bills. Because you know what doesn't pay your bills? Having an unpublished memoir stuck in development hell.
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Photo: Courtesy of HBO/Craig Blankenhorn.
"I LOVE AFRICA."
Here is what is not gonna happen: Ray and Marnie. I like the idea that there is some great banter between the two of them, but if you don't start out having good sex, you probably never will have good sex. (This isn't proven. I'm just making this assumption in this very particular context. Oh, and the context between Shoshanna and her too-dumb, very good-looking boyfriend.) This is, as the show is happy to point out, a pairing made out of lonely necessity.
Note: What is JazzHate.com? Did I hear that correctly? Will you let me know?
But, here is the thing that Hannah doesn't seem to know. She stomps into her apartment after her first day of work, totally charged, because she gave people her ideas and they seemed to like them. And, maybe this is because I am drinking some sort of corporate-tinted Kool-Aid, but bear with me here: Sometimes, being around like-minded individuals and coming up with great ideas, even if they are paid for by someone else, is a possibility. And, it doesn't mean that you have to "write for three hours" every night to stay creative. This could also be me selling myself some sort of rhetoric or a bill of goods because, as I said, I am right in the crosshairs of this show, as a Brooklyn-dwelling, liberal-arts-school-attending, English major.
Photo: Courtesy of HBO/Craig Blankenhorn.
"Neiman Marcus doesn't sell a widow's peak, but worth considering."
(Note: Snacks at publishers generally are more along the lines of the Sun Chips variety and less along the lines of Russ & Daughters lox variety. I hear some people get Pirate's Booty. Don't tell anyone I told you.) The last bit of unpacking to do for this episode is the appearance of Jenna Lyons, one of R29's favorite gals. Her appearance was very Lyons-esque, complete with her glasses and unaffected voice, but to be honest, she's right. Hannah needs to just stop wavering and just email her about whether or not she is still working at GQ, snacks or not. She has copper pipes to deal with. I feel that.
Hey, prediction: Adam's acting career is about to take off, and we all know what dating actors is like. (Hint: Hard? I think?)
Missed last week's? We got you.
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