Hell, I’m a twenty-something girl who has no cable TV and watches Dancing with the Stars on a semi-regular basis with her mother, and I know and love GIRLS.
GoldDust introduced me to GIRLS about halfway through the first season. We were the ladies. I loved it, I hated it, I debated filing a lawsuit against it for basically stealing my life and and after I got over that, I bought it on blu-ray and awaited with the rest of the world for season two to fecking start.
I was in the shower tonight, debating if I was Hannah with just a little dash of Marni, or if when I drink if I turn into Jessa without the madly printed pants, or maybe if I have a touch more of Shoshana to me than I’d ever like to admit, when I started writing a script in my head if I were to just, you know, wake up, be in NYC and be in GIRLS. And then I realized:
I’m totally a Hannah.
And I’m pretty sure I was once in a secretly filmed 2009ish episode of GIRLS. This is how it would have looked in GIRLS, probably.
Scene: office breakroom. Badly lit, crappy mismatching chairs around dirty tables, vending machines, refrigerator filled with food labelled with angry post it notes. TV is on, but no one is watching.
L.A. is sitting at a table, alone, eating off a cafeteria tray.
Enter CO-WORKER. She comes up behind L.A., debating sitting down.
Co-worker: Can I sit here?
L.A. (jumps, dropping cell phone which she was obviously texting on): Sure. Co-worker, right?
Co-worker: Yeah, you’re L.A., right? You work in my department, I think.
L.A. (laughing): On my better days.
Awkward silence in which chewing is very, very loud.
Co-worker: So, how old are you?
L.A.: 22. How about you?
Co-worker: I’m 25. We should totally go out sometime. I need some new friends. No one goes out anymore.
L.A.: Sure, that’d be fun.
Co-worker: Here (hands L.A. cellphone), put your number in. I’ll text you and we can go grab drinks sometime.
L.A is entering number when cellphone buzzes.
Co-worker: Sorry! (takes phone, reads text) It’s just my friend telling me about another person getting married. I swear, I can’t go on facebook anymore without someone I know getting engaged, or getting married, or having kids. I mean, I’m only 25! Why does everyone need their life to start yesterday? Hello, how much work are babies? Or husbands — giant babies?? (hands phone back)
L.A. (finishes putting number in phone): Here you go.
Co-worker: Awesome.Sorry to rant! I just really don’t need to see one more girl in a white dress, or baby, or…
L.A.: …baby in a white dress?
Co-worker: That’s funny, exactly!
L.A.: Well, I’m almost off break, and I have to go call to check on Boo so…
Co-worker: Right, for sure. Who’s Boo? Your boyfriend? That’s okay, I have a boyfriend too! Well, sort of a boyfriend, more of a really long story…
L.A.: …Oh, he’s my son, actually.
Co-worker: Oh, I’m…so…
L.A.: Don’t worry about it. If it makes you feel any better, I’m not married.
And that’s the time that I pretty much met another Hannah on the street. If that ever shows up as a plotline, you’re welcome, HBO.