Well it should come as no surprise that Lindsay Lohan’s most recent foray into film, Lifetime Original’s Liz and Dick, was truly terrible. And I loved every heinous minute of it. It was so cringe-inducing that I had to pause on occasion to take deep breaths and remind myself that no one was forcing me to watch it (I've only had to take deep breaths on these films in the past: American History X, The Exorcist, and The Haunting, which should give you a good idea of how truly wretched Liz and Dick was. These other films were either gratuitously violent and/or horror films. yep). I could’ve turned it off at any moment, but it was the proverbial train wreck: super awful but so utterly impossible to look away. I mean, seriously, it was soooooo bad. And so good, you know?
But I won’t spend any more time on the issue. It’s tedious and lame and not too many people care about it besides me.
Let’s talk about someone EVEN YOUNGER than Lindsay Lohan who has is all going on.
I’m in love (in a mostly non-sexual way) with a woman. Her name is Lena Dunham and I'm pretty sure everyone knows who she is and what she does and please, can someone figure out how she and I can be friends?
|From Vanity Fair. An imaginary interchange between Paul Ryan and Lena, which I chose to cut out because it was weird and not in the good way.|
Here’s the thing about Lena: she writes/directs/stars in the show (Girls, on HBO) that I should’ve written/directed/starred in. You know why she’s writing it and I’m not? Because she’s a) the genetic product of two artists from New York; b) she’s brave and completely willing to make a fool of herself/plumb the depths of her real-life for comedy; and c) way more talented and funny than I could ever hope to be.
I love dark comedy and I love painfully awkward moments (just this evening, Gabe described my life as a "Comedy of Errors"...so true). I love watching pseudo-intellectual people sitting around having conversations about seemingly unsolvable first-world problems that don’t actually matter in the grand scheme of life. And Lena Dunham's show revels in these things.
|From the news. A.K.A. Us Weekly.|
Why, why, why isn’t she my best friend? I’m probably too old to be her best friend, but she’s not too young to be mine. And even if she never wants to be friends, I would be more than willing to get her coffee and rub her feet on set between takes. Seriously.
|From Marie Claire.|
And they say the Millennials have nothing to offer. They've got it all going on over the previous generations: they know everything about social media and new technology and how to build an "internet presence." What do I know? How to type in the fashion that has been taught to secretaries since the invention of the typewriter? (It's true: my class in high school was the last to take a semester in "keyboarding": in this class we LITERALLY learned how to TYPE. The year after that our high school got computers that were made post-1983 and then they taught all the subsequent students computer programming and how to use the goddamn Internet.) They say the Millennials don't know how to focus, that they think in text format and therefore can't comprehend long sentence structure or fathom how to read a book. I say: does it matter? No one's ever wanted to offer me money for my thoughts on an 1100-page novel. And seriously, I read long books all the time. NO ONE CARES. Because knowing how to read is the modern day equivalent of knowing how to poop: everyone can do it, and you should probably keep it to yourself.
Anyway, Lena is willing to be ugly and gross along side being cute and adorable and brilliant and I think that takes some massive ovaries. She's my idol and if anyone knows her, please ask her to be my friend. Even if it's just on Facebook, Twitter, Pinterest, or whatever else is going on that I'm too old to know about.
*From Snobs, a novel by Julian Fellowes. He's the bloke responsible for the writing of Gosford Park and the creation of Downtown Abbey.