On…Russian Doll

Goddamn, I loved this show.

 

I love anything from Leslye Headland – I have seen Bachelorette so many times, it’s borderline unhealthy, and quotes pop into my head constantly (“You guys had an abortion without me?” is my favorite, but there are like seven or eight others, plus the entire hotel pool scene). I will watch (and rewatch) and read (and reread) anything she writes, and the only other person I could say that about is Simon Rich. Hmmm actually and Phoebe Fleabag-Whatserface. And Stephen Falk, now that I think about it, and actually let’s stop naming amazing writers, let’s talk about Russian Doll. It’s on Netflix. It’s smart and furious and hilarious. At one point, Natasha Lyonne’s character describes herself as the love child of Andrew Dice Clay and the kid from Brave. I melted with joy.

Oh. And this isn’t a spoiler, but just a fun fact that a book called Emily Of New Moon features in the show, and it was my no.1 favorite book for YEARS AND YEARS in childhood. (And the sequels: Emily Climbs and Emily’s Quest, because Lord knows I love a series.) Mind. Blown. No one knows Emily Of New Moon. NO ONE. And despite moving countries and houses more times than can possibly be healthy, I still have my original copy of Emily Of New Moon (and all my other LM Mongomerys, and Daddy Long Legs and Pollyanna and What Katy Did and Mallory Towers and St Clare’s and I don’t know why I only read books about girls in the olden days I mean seriously what the hell?).

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