By Lex October 29, 2015 @ 6:52 AM
You look at this squirrelly self-satisfied jelly roll and her mediocre talent and her bold literary tales of fingering her little sister and wonder who the hell is backing her? It’s New York. In certain parts of the city, the parts that matter in terms of media influence, she is invoked like Jesus at a Huckabee family reunion. New Yorkers love to hype their multicultural international immigrant United Colors of Benetton We Pals PBS melting pot. It’s all bullshit. New York is a roughly assembled federation of disparate clans the whitest and most assuredly self-righteous among them adoring Lena Dunham as cutting edge and fresh. Smell her. That’s not fresh.
Hearst Media who owns all the major women’s fashion and style magazines just signed up to market and distribute Dunham’s greasy fingered feminist blog, Lenny to its millions of readers. Dunham actually mocks much of that shopping elite culture, but she’s so hip about it, it circles back on itself and makes everybody believe they’re in on the joke. They’re no more in on her shtick than they are the last donut in the box once her mollusk like stomach extrudes through her fat mouth and starts externally digesting the pastry.
New York, this is on you. Tokyo took Godzilla even if they did kind of blame the U.S. nukes. Own up. Line up the model tanks. Take out your monster.
Photo credit: FameFlynet
By Lex September 24, 2015 @ 10:19 AM
It’s been a big week for Lena Dunham. First, the fake boyfriend breakup story she staged on social media to remind the world that somebody thinks she’s fuckable and his name is Jack. She got to interview Hillary Clinton for her new website, YetiSquats.com, wherein the two gal pals labeled each other feminists and tried to outdo each other in explaining how much they totally don’t hate men. Finally, Dunham’s getting a character on The Simpsons fashioned after her own self-inflated stardom, though animated more slender to avoid violating EPA rules on virtual ink usage.
Dunham is extremely beloved in about seven zip codes of New York and Los Angeles that comprise a good segment of the media industry. She’s like a Congressman who’s been re-elected for forty years in a gerrymandered district that’s the tortured shape of a lower intestine having a spasm. If she steps out of her district, she’s pelted with rotten cabbage and eggs, which she promptly fries up in Crisco and serves herself as a frittata for that meal squeezed in between second breakfast and The View chocolate chip trail mix gorging. If she’d man up and say Death to America we could probably drone her. Short of that it’s just waiting for the slow rot of fatty liver. Meet back here in twenty years to discuss.
Photo Credit: Instagram
By Lex September 21, 2015 @ 9:44 AM
Lena Dunham cleared up Internet rumors that she was breaking up with her boyfriend before any more of her sycophantic fans tried drown their grossly symbiotic sorrows in gams of Fudgie the Whales. When she suffers, they suffer. It’s like E.T. and Elliot if both were pre-diabetic and high on Charleston Chews. The breakup rumors began when the world’s most narcissistic BBW posted messages to Instagram intimating she was suffering an emotional heartache and questioning her relationships. But it turns out she was just breaking up with gluten again.
No, no. Believe it or not, ladies can have anxiety and troubles that aren’t about getting dumped.
Even in her heartache Lena Dunham has something to teach men about women. She’s a giver. The engorged on self-love actress suffers the fate of many women that are with men who used to date much hotter women and could probably do so again. Why is he even with me? Is he thinking of her when I smother him with my greasy labial folds? How much caramel does it take to make these feelings stop? You can’t envy, Lena Dunham. Not when the Japanese are still coveting her fat for their stews.
By Lex September 18, 2015 @ 2:11 PM
The headline read, Lena Dunham shares distressing Instagram post. You had to figure it was the attached image of the large lady from the circus in a blind selfie stupor. But, no, it turns out Dunham left a cryptic message about how hard it is to be doughy and annoying and super modestly talented and still be wealthy and lauded around Manhattan and served the gluten-free pasta at fancy restaurants because everybody who went to prep school wants to see you thrive.
TBH this was a rough week. It felt like my body, my hormones, my general sense of well-being were betraying me. I wanted to crumple into a pile or hide like a sweatshirt in the lost and found. And I felt as though there wasn’t a way to ask for the space and time I needed without hurting someone else. What a shitty feeling, but isn’t that the reality for so many of us?”
I appreciate the tag at the end to pretend you care about anybody else. Dunham’s lockstep cheesecake bites army of supporters buoyed her emotionally obese spirits with tons of blankly supportive responses. I wish I could feel compassion like that, so easily and without thought.
I can’t work around these disturbing underwear selfies. I find sympathy difficult when my ball sac is scrunching up like the world’s most anxious turtle. Go to that lost and found and find yourself an oversized sweatshirt, stop sharing self-indulgent tales of fingering your little sister for fun and profit, drop ten lbs., and wipe that shit eating stupid off your face. Then the healing begins.
By Lex September 01, 2015 @ 11:11 AM
Lena Dunham spends a lot of time working the fat shaming meme for fun and profit. The self-described actress and writer posted a picture of her old man swollen prostate gunt to Instagram long enough for it to be seen by millions of innocents who probably did shitty things in their past lives. Dunham waited some period of time then removed the photo citing the destructive nature of body disparaging trolls on the horizon:
Just an FYI, I don’t delete because I’m ashamed of my body — I delete because certain pics become hot beds for negativity. You think I want a teenager visiting my page and seeing a zillion comments about how fat I am? No, because that is hurtful to any person struggling, comparing, contrasting. So since the trollz came out, I will instead share a pic of me shining bright on my rightful throne.
Who could have expected this close up of your Nutella-filled pubic area would become a hot bed for negativity? Why not post a picture of a Pope doll hanging ragged out of your rectum and act shocked that so many people had nasty things to say. It’s all about the teenagers. For fuck’s sake, stop saying that. You’re trying to promote your new website featuring your Freshman lit overwritten short stories. Who’s shameless now, you Lucky Brand destroying self-involved suckling muffin?
Photo credit: Lena Dunham/Instagram
By Lex July 20, 2015 @ 10:29 AM
Combining her two super powers of memorizing the street address of every single abortion clinic in Manhattan and making tranny Rican street walkers in the Bronx feel good about their looks, Lena Dunham is launching a website in September called Lenny. The site is named after her vibrator that Jesus gave legs to escape when he learned of the toy’s ungodly fate. In the vein of Gwyneth Paltrow’s cult of personality Goop site, Lenny will be a must visit for millennial women determined to be shitty girlfriends and wives and ultimately super alone:
The website will be about keeping abortion safe and legal, keeping birth control in your pocket, and getting the right people elected, all while wearing extremely fierce jumpsuits.
Goop lies to you and tells you you can be healthy and pretty. All Lenny can promise is that you’ll look and smell better than Lena after she barrels out of the Golden Corral drunk on ribs. My Planned Parenthood app already keeps my nearest abortion options pinging on my Google maps and I have no desire to dress like the working girl who slept through the evacuation alarms at Chernobyl. Lena Dunham isn’t going away. She’s just going to appeal stronger and stronger to an ever shrinking audience of the world’s most annoying people. She’s the Insane Clown Posse of the Upper West Side.