Girls, we hardly knew ya. You had a beautiful two season run. A beautiful collection of awkward stories and mid-20s confusion and apathy and interest in all the right places.
And, sadly, at this time we ring the bell – the death knell that is. Girls, season three, has officially “jumped the shark.” Feel free to cry or whine or beg or steal. Feel free to gloss over the weaknesses of this season. Feel free to deny and curse and shout and stand up bellowing, “No! Girls is still a great show! Season three was the best yet! I can’t wait for next season.”
No flashlight? No worries!
When I was a kid I decided I wanted to be a counterfeiter. I’ll just get your next thought out of the way and let you know that, no; I am not currently perusing job boards looking for my way into the secretive business of currency forgery. I left that dream behind around the time I entered the lair of the mid-teen years. But let’s go back to that time anyway. Back to the days of watching movies until sunrise, back to the days of arranging my basement couch cushions into a movie worshiping throne, and back to the days of giving my heart and soul and mind to the idols on the fat CRT in front of me. Young Dom watched a lot of movies and he dreamed and he day dreamed and he dreamed dreamed and he found himself living in the (he supposed) coolest place that ever was – late 1980s Hong Kong.