broad city long read

this article's real long and real good.

“Should I fist the tree first, you think, Ab?” Glazer asked. “Or should I give it a rim job? What’s funnier?”

“Definitely fisting!” Jacobson hollered back. “The tree may say no but its heart says yes!”

Glazer went to work. She is a brilliant physical comedian — both women are — and gyrated her compact frame around the tree, oozing over its limbs, French-kissing its bark, straddling it, slapping it, twerking on it, poking it in various orifices. (Jacobson chimed in from the sidelines, “We are always coming up with new holes!”) A crew of about 25 people looked on, but Glazer showed no signs of embarrassment — she only requested inspiration in the form of slow jams — “Give me some dirty music, baby, lemme get my griiiind on!” — and suggested to the director, John Lee, that perhaps she should “try some shots with reverse cowgirl, like my ass right up to the camera. It should feel grotesque, right? We need dat bounce!” She tried different rhythms and angles, holding back laughter while slapping the trunk of the tree with loud thwacks.

Meanwhile, Jacobson was giggling so hard she had to crouch on the ground. “This is so fucking funny,” she said. “This is so fucking funny.” Then, turning to me, she put on a serious face: “She’s not doing this to fall in love with the tree,” she said. “She is doing it to find … answers.” Then, after a pause: “I just hope the tree is over 18.” (via)