I spent much of this morning trying to get out from under a dark cloud of GIRLS-related depression. (Did you see this week’s episode? Yech. That’s pretty much all I can say, lest this turn into a multi-paragraph rant, which I am really trying hard to avoid.) 

I read a few recaps online, (this one’s okay — if you don’t mind spoilers and some frank discussion of ear-rape-via-Q-tip, which, if you do, DO NOT WATCH THIS WEEK’S EPISODE.) And then I watched Lena Dunham’s “behind the scenes” segment that I guess I could not bear to watch immediately after the episode, so eager was I to mentally escape the lingering discomfort — and not the average, by-now-expected cringey discomfort. This was real, physical discomfort: my stomach hurt and I had a headache from squinting so as not to see certain scenes as clearly. 

I guess by this morning, I thought maybe I’d recovered enough to get some insider perspective. But I’m not sure Ms. Dunham and I watched the same episode, because all she talked about was Marnie’s delusional Kanye cover and how it was weird to root for her own character’s ex’s new girlfriend. No mention of the horrifying on-screen mental breakdown (enter the Q-tip) or the really, very disturbing sex scene at the end. 

I had asked the Internet to make me feel better, and the Internet let me down.

But then I saw this clip of a four-year-old singing Bruno Mars on Ellen, and all was right with the world. 

GIRLS: 0.