FFJD Funny Ladies: Broad City

In case you haven’t heard, there’s this hilarious webisode/web series called Broad City. Ilana and Abbi, played by Ilana Glazer and Abbi Jacobson, have written, directed, and starred in a Curb Your Enthusiasm meets The Funniest Thing You’ve Ever Seen. Each week on Broad City, Ilana and Abbi “find themselves finding themselves.” From video chatting, to tampons, to boys, to Jewish mothers, they’re pretty FFJD. The season finale of their show is online today, and you can watch it here. (Hint – pretty famous funny lady featured under a pile of oranges!)

In FFJD honor, they each told me a horrific first date story, and you can watch the newest episode and season finale after the jump. So…jump!

From Ilana:

“I realized once again that I am not really a date-person. Or, rather, I haven’t been so far. I’m more of a, “we should hang out,” watch-a-movie-and-hookup person, and even THAT I don’t do very often.

I don’t say that like, “Wahhh + LOL, I don’t go on many dates!”

I just don’t have time, and more tangible options have so far sufficed.

I’ve done dates where we go for a walk or something. I did that with this one guy, a friend of mine now and someone who’s work I really admire; we just took a walk in the East Village and sat in Thompkins. Neither of us drank at the time, so we just chilled. I was not sure of my feelings, and that made me feel awkward and contributed to my leading him on unintentionally. That was shitty but I think for decent reasons, just because I don’t know how to say No to men sometimes.

This guy who worked at Rite Aid was hitting on my a couple weeks ago as I tried to buy a blender. I felt so “bad” or “guilty??” or something — I’m embarrassed as I write this — flat-out saying, “I’m not interested” that I told him I was married. I’m not even close to married.

My roommate/BFF came up to me and Rite Aid Stud as I finish pretend-taking RAS’s number. I was like, “Oh, hi honey!” and winked as Rite Aid as I walked away.

Another bad first-date move was this very pretty Aryan, as I thought of him, that I met in transit (kind of romantic, right?), and we got wine and cheese lol at some bar in W’burg. His white-power beauty was kind of jarring to me and made me uncomfortable, and as he walked to the bathroom I watched all these people, men and women, alike, look at him because he really is striking.

I felt like Miranda in that Sex & the City episode where she’s with a dude way hotter than she, and she starts freaking out in the middle of the date.

For some reason at the end, we hugged goodbye, and I was like, “I don’t think we should like, have sex tonight.” He was like, “Yeah.. me neither…’The fuck??” And I was like, “Cool. ::Silence. Throat-clearing:: Peace!” or whatever it was — running away and crying, perhaps.

From Abbi:

“So this was the first year I was living in New York City, and I was working all these weird random jobs. One of said jobs was that I worked at this bar, at the door–putting wristbands on people’s wrists for the beer pong tournaments that took place upstairs at said bar.

I met this guy that kept coming in every Wednesday, and finally he asked me to hang out after my shift that night–so technically our first date.  I had seen him over the course of a few weeks, and he’d introduced himself weeks ago–and I couldn’t remember his name.

He was Israeli, and I knew it was something like Ayal, or Eyal, or Ieyle–I really didn’t know his name or how to pronounce it–it was terrible.  So he wants to take me to this club, “Lotus”, that he can “just walk right into”, because he “knows a guy”.  Which should have clued me in right away that I would hate this guy by the end of the night.  It was this gross club that I never would have ever even wanted to go to.  I was wearing this ridiculously casual outfit, having come right from work, and everyone in this club was all decked out.  Then he started dancing–and trying to dance with me.  He had almost choreographed moves.

I thought that he was kidding at first, but then soon realized that no, he was taking this very seriously.  I somehow convinced him that we should change locations.

We ended up in a bar with live music–actually a great band was playing, and despite the two-drink-minimums at these places, I was finally happy with where we were and potentially looking at this guy in a new light, though still unaware of his name.

The band then started to play a really cool cover of “Blackbird” which I got really excited about.  They were about halfway through, and I was really liking their version, though still very clear what song it was, and I said, “Oh man this is one of my favorite songs”.

He then said “I don’t think I know it”. t was over right then and there. Call me crazy, but I just knew it wasn’t going to work out.”