If you know me personally you’re probably aware of my passion insane obsession for HBO show Girls.

It started slowly a couple of months ago: when my friend Simone introduced me to the pilot I got really engaged and could easily identify with the themes of the series. The main character Hannah, in particular, was clearly a more tattoed, less dressed up (not as in elegant, but as in naked) version of me.  So I started doing normal fan stuff like quoting the show with my friends, searching information on the internet and asking to be called Hannah during intercourse.

Everything was normal, but then it escalated.

All of a sudden I lost interest in stuff like the sloth meltdown, Paro the robotic seal and Sandra Bullock’s acceptance speech. All I wanted to watch on YouTube were Lena Dunham’s interviews and Girls outtakes. When my former flatmate, the evil evil Lisa, came back from her super cool internship in New York City I basically found every possible way to hijack the conversation towards the show. You met Sarah Jessica Parker at the park? So what? Did you meet Lena Dunham?

I was going from fan to fanatic. Did I need help? Was it too much? I asked the universe to give me a sign of any kind that my faith was in the right place. I thought the holy ghost would give me an STD instead of a baby like it did with Mary. But no, the sign came in a different way.

I was walking from Rathaus Neukoelln to Hermannplatz with some friends, at night, and it suddenly looked like a good idea getting into a shopping cart and let one drunkish friend push me to our destination. Everything was going smoothly until the shopping cart (in german Kaufwagen)got stuck on the ruined pavement and the following happened. Exactly this.