I used to dislike Lena Dunham simply for the fact that I was utterly and completely jealous of her.
She had everything I wanted: a respected film and television show loosely based off of her life, a book deal, cover stories in major newspapers and magazines, comparisons to Woody Allen, a friendship with Nora Ephron, alarming smarts, self-confidence and relatability. (I think I’ll forgo the comparisons to Woody Allen now.)
I wanted to disapprove of her so badly, so I made myself. I became the person I despised: the woman who enjoys tearing down other women who are more successful than she.
Let me start by saying, I still think Tiny Furniture is a mediocre film, and I have only seen a few episodes of Dunham’s hit show, Girls. I’m neither a big fan of nor a connoisseur of her career, but what has made me change my mind about her is who she is as a human and a woman.
Unlike the majority of young actresses who have found success in their early years, Dunham takes nothing (more…)
I’ve been suffering from a disease for quite some time now. Denial has kept me from acknowledging in, but after much research and soul-searching I’ve finally come to terms with this infliction.
I suffer from hypochondria.
It’s an exhausting ailment that takes a great deal out of me. A large portion of my mental energy is exerted while imagining diseases I could be dying from. There has been the “side cancer” I thought I was battling for the past two months (kidney infection), the blood clot in my arm (pulled muscle), the brain tumor (sinus headaches) and a plethora of other aches and pains that I assume must be life-threatening. If I didn’t have shitty-ass insurance, I’d probably be at the doctor every time my appetite is low (must be scurvy!) or am sleepy (thyroid cancer!). All the little stories I’ve heard and accumulated through the years- the friend of a friend of a friend who didn’t know he had diabetes and almost went into a coma, the film business acquaintance who didn’t (more…)
Have you ever been to Mortified? I have and I nearly pissed my pants and started crying. People recollecting stories of their rudimentary and pubescent years is both entertaining and nausea-inducing. It stirs up memories you’ve locked deeply away, memories that you want no one knowing except for your therapist and maybe your 16 cats to know. It brings you confidence in knowing that you’re not alone, that others were as fucking weird as you were as a child. It makes you feel compelled to share these deep dark secrets with the world. It drives you to drink to forget these memories.
If you’re not as lucky to experience Mortified live, now you can check out Mortified on TV. Starting Dec 5th at 8PM, Mortified will be airing ten episodes of cringe-worthy hilarity on the Sundance Channel. Guests include Will Forte, Ed Helms, Cheryl Hines, Paul Feig, and Alanis Morissette. I’m particularly intrigued in hearing Alanis considering most of Jagged Little Pill was like one giant episode of Mortified.
The other evening I watched Woody Allen’s Annie Hall and Manhattan for the first time in a long time. While watching the film, I was reminded of how badly I wanted to be a middle-aged narcissistic Jewish male as a child. Forget being the Little Mermaid or Rainbow Brite, I wanted to be a freakin’ horn-rimmed balding and big-nosed kvetch.
It should have been disconcerting to my mother that a young girl from Upstate New York would want to mold her future personality traits after someone such as Woody Allen. However, considering I had a penchant for dressing up as other short, but less narcissistic Jewish men- most notably 2 out of 5 of the Marx Brothers and Rod Serling- I guess it should have come as no surprise.
I recalled the other evening the precise feeling I had when I first watched those films. It was as if the light bulb had finally been turned on. Here were these people who lived in New York City, were unapologetically self-aware, vocally insecure, and flailed their arms around (more…)
I am a Jew.
A non-practicing Jew.
One of those people that is- according to Judaic Law- Jewish, but yet has only participated in one mind-numbing Seder her entire life. The sort of person who really loves telling people she’s Jewish because she feels that it will help explain certain characteristics and because being part of the Jew Club is cool. Woody Allen? Gene Wilder? The Marx Brothers? They’re my peeps.
My grandmother grew up with her Orthodox Jewish grandmother and after a few years she was like, “f that”. So when she gave birth to my mom, she raised her Barely Christian. Then I came along and that Barely Christian turned into Notta Christian and I’ve been wandering around spiritually aimless for the past 28 years. When you’re young, this doesn’t really matter to you. You think you and everyone you love is immortal. As you start to get older and more jaded, you’re like, “Fuuuuuck, I am going to die. I better figure out where I’m going, otherwise this could get really depressing.”