Broke Girls Season 1

I was part of the 2003 college entrance exam cohort, entering the exam hall during the peak of the SARS epidemic. I graduated in 2007, and I had the option to choose Beijing or stay in Chengdu. But in the end, I did what I consider a failure and returned home, settling down in a small fourth-tier city.

Now it’s 2011, and the age when I had ambitious dreams feels farther and farther away.

I have too many regrets, too much cynicism, and an energy that, after all these years, has slowly withered into nothingness in the monotony of life.

I have a stable job, stable social connections, stable income, and stable routines. On the surface, everything seems great, but I often feel like I have nothing.

As a child, I dreamed of having a sweet little dessert shop, flipping through novels in the scattered sunlight, pretending to be artsy and sophisticated. And now, this is the only dream I have left—about freedom and peace.

I really need a dream.

A long time ago, I calculated the cost of opening a dessert shop—rent, utilities, taxes, and all the expenses I would need to cover by selling a certain number of cups of coffee every day. How much startup capital could I gather? How much would I need to borrow from the bank? Where would I source the ingredients? How would I market it, promote it, and eventually profit? All these questions swirled in my mind.

But no matter how much I thought about it, it was always in the planning phase.

Year after year, until time wore down my courage and edges.

On the night when Caroline was drunk, she told Max, "I have nothing now. I need that bakery so badly. I know you're scared of success, but I believe in your dreams. Please, let’s work together. We’ll succeed."

Actually, we all crave a sweet dream when life is piercing us from every direction.

I privately have a special fondness for the image of a tavern proprietress. She runs a small pub in some remote corner, where the lighting is always dim and the songs croon in a languid drawl, their words lost in the haze.

The proprietress dresses with sharp contrast: a starched white shirt ironed to perfection, lips painted vivid red, and a sleek, jet-black bob that frames her face immaculately. Sometimes she smokes, turning her head to the side with misty eyes; occasionally she slips into a leather skirt and chases thrills with a toned, eight-pack-abs hunk. Then, out of nowhere, two shabby, unassuming customers by the window erupt—one lean man leaps onto the table, pistol in hand, his shirt haphazardly stuffed into his pants. He waves the gun around, shouting "This is a robbery!"

This scene could be plucked from a pulp novel. The proprietress echoes Uma Thurman's vibe. And this vision? It's all mine.

When I lie awake during naps, staring blankly at the dark red underside of the table, my mind races like a runaway train. I once flipped through my old posts and found only one about "scheming nature" that I still approve of. It delves into the unspoken sordidness in human hearts. We act with countless motives, but we always pick the most respectable one to parade in public. Without that veneer of decency, someone would surely be friendless—it's a tacit understanding we all share. And why do I like that post? Because it's who I am—the very "selling point" that defines me.

Like when Caroline from 2 Broke Girls has an epiphany, clutching a cupcake that reads "fuck you, suck my dick" and yelling at Max: "This is you! This is your selling point!" Her expression is as awestruck as Columbus discovering the New World.

Yes, Max is a woman who oozes coolness from head to toe. In a lawless era, she'd be a Thelma & Louise -style rebel. Whenever some guy in a beanie, short on cash, snaps his fingers and barks orders at waitresses with a decadent swagger, Max—with her bright red lips and wild, bouncing curls—will snap back, flaunting her F-cup breasts: "You think snapping makes you cool? It just gives me sexual dysfunction." She dissects his ego like a surgeon, dousing his bravado with a cold shower that leaves him wilted, meekly retracting his arm and speaking with newfound respect. Max is the last righteous queen in the decadent capitalist world, a living embodiment of "not swayed by poverty, unbowed by power, unbought by wealth".

If breasts orbited like planets, Max's would be the center of the galaxy. If snark were an art, she'd headline China's academic lecture series. This beauty as fierce as she is alluring thrives in New York's sleaziest diner, shouting, "Hey, I'm a goddamn lotus rising unsullied from the muck!"

Who says big-breasted women can't be smart? Max can reduce anyone—from head-to-toe posers to snotty regulars—to insignificance with a quip. When serving customers, her double-entendre "she is coming" leaves everyone in awe. In a joint crawling with lecherous creeps, only someone with Max's blend of wicked integrity can keep the peace.

There are two types of women: those who preen and prance, dousing themselves in "rape-me" perfume, feigning horror if a man brushes their arm; and those who swear like sailors, wear "don't fuck with me" signs on their faces, but melt into blushing roses for the right person. The former flood the streets, evolutionary winners. The latter? An endangered species.

Max is that rare breed. She'll puff out her chest and tell her friend, "I‘m dead inside," then collapse into her boyfriend's arms at home. She'll trade barbs with catty diner regulars, but get flustered in front of a graffiti-artist hunk.

What a badass yet adorable soul you are.

Broke Girls has officially ended, and I'm not going to discuss the criticisms people have about the final seasons. Instead, let’s talk about how I felt when I watched the first season!

Max (why does typing her name in Chinese look so strange? 😓) and Caroline are two completely different girls! Two extremes! Honestly, when I first saw Max, I thought she was a tough girl from the streets 😓, totally had that bad girl vibe. I didn’t think she was that pretty at first, but later on, I realized that the more you watch, the more you fall in love with these two girls—they are absolutely gorgeous! I remember a phrase that was popular a few years ago: “Be as thin as Max, like a flash of lightning!” She’s truly beautiful!!

Caroline is a rich girl, the typical “white, rich, and beautiful” type, someone who never had to lift a finger. After her family’s downfall, she ends up on the streets (okay, not really the streets, but things got bad). The worst part is that she’s never worked a day in her life, she’s a total social newbie with zero life skills 😱😱😱. Awkward, right? How is she going to survive in the real world?! But don’t worry—she has Max! Even though Max often finds her annoying, she’s actually a kind-hearted girl!

Now here’s the point I want to make: their cupcake business! Do you know that when I first saw it, cupcakes hadn’t become popular in China yet, and their appearance was nothing special? When I saw those beautifully made cupcakes on TV, I was so excited! This is the business I’ve always dreamed of! I want to have it!

However, by the time the whole series finished airing, cupcakes were already a trend in China, but my own business still hadn’t started! Why? Because I have a job in the system! You know, as the saying goes, "A man born in trouble will die in comfort." With a comfortable job, I could never make up my mind to go out and create my own world. In the end, I’m left with nothing but regret!

So, when you have dreams and abilities, grab the chance and go for it! If it doesn’t work out, you can always try again! Don’t end up like me, left with only regrets!

Although I've gladly labeled myself a "female ruffian" with "hardcore tastes" and other such tags, and now cringe at the pretentiousness I once cherished—those artsy longings, sorrows, and感伤 (sentimentality) that weren't even pseudo - bourgeois—during the post - high - school era, made wonderfully free by college applications, I've come to realize that, like it or not, I'm still essentially a Caroline at heart, at least for now. Being unfiltered in speech yet soft - hearted might be Max's trademark, but I haven't even touched the edges of her queenly exterior with a tomboy soul.

After going crazy for 2 Broke Girls , I reread several Douban reviews and became increasingly convinced that learning to live like Max is something I must get used to before studying abroad.

When Caroline consoles a heartbroken Max, telling her to sleep it off, Max retorts that's a privilege of the rich. The poor get drunk, break down, then keep going—sleeping five hours a day, working two jobs, and hustling to survive. When Caroline rejoices over snow and Christmas, Max points out the only "snowmen" they'll see are frozen junkies on the porch of their Brooklyn tenement. And Christmas? Please, it's all about money. Caroline, waving her Wharton pedigree and 2300 SAT score, sketches dreams of a cupcake shop, descending into Max's life as a savior—only to get scammed at a sushi joint, have her hair pulled after trying to reason in New York's sleaziest bar, sob after failing all night to assemble a folding bed, get dissed by a housekeeping client, and repeatedly need Max—who thrives in the real world—to bail her out, even when she tries to conquer life with her Chanel.

This was them at the start. This was them at their most iconic.

For the first 18 years of my life, I wasn't rich, but I had food and shelter. I'd sit in the living room typing blogs where sadness overflowed to "drown you," kneel on the floor flirting with goldfish, watching them circle and wondering about their perception of life. After meals, I'd lounge in a chair, flipping through Sanlian Life Weekly and debating democracy, the legal system, and urban - rural duality with my parents, silently applauding my "unique insights" and "global vision" (forgive me, I'm about to vomit). I'd go to a study abroad summer camp and come home unscathed, then brag about "getting up at 5 AM daily to fight for shower time." Moving from the city center where I'd lived for a decade to a new place that was slightly out but not suburban, I'd complain for a whole meal about the extra two hours and three bus transfers it took.

I'm a low - rent knockoff Caroline. No blue blood or old money, but already loaded with the kind of neuroses that only grow in a climate - controlled greenhouse.

Procrastination. Decision - making phobia. Compulsive late - night scrolling.

Behind all these quirky phobias and OCDs is someone who has the energy to see tears as a sign of sensitivity, the time to find joy in getting lost and found in a familiar city, and the leisure to spend a night learning to fold paper roses, then pat herself on the back for "still being so crafty." Pulling random all - nighters or skipping a meal is just life's seasoning.

Time for tears. Time for mindless daydreaming. Time to fold a rose for myself. Even time to feel homesick.

For me now and before, these are like... well, appendices or tonsils (can I get a more poetic metaphor?!)—they flare up, cause minor pains, serve no real purpose, but I can afford them. I even derive some creepy spiritual satisfaction from the logic that "I have the ability to perceive life" or "I'm a complete person."

P.S. I don't dislike Lin Daiyu, but I'd vote to send her to lay bricks for a while—trust me, it's for her own good. At least her insomnia would cure itself, if nothing else.

Everyday on Renren, clickbait articles moan about the hardships of studying abroad, but after a while, they all blend together, many still stuck in the fantasy of "I'm a princess on a temporary hard - life retreat." The most haunting one described pulling an all - nighter with a fever to meet a paper deadline, only for her father to announce via Skype that her beloved grandpa had suddenly passed. She stopped typing, thought of all the plans to be filial when she got home, cried until she collapsed, woke up趴在 (face - down) on the desk, and kept writing. The next day, bleary - eyed and swollen, she rushed to class, no one asking what happened.

Max says she has an emotional off - switch. Press it, and the feelings stop. (Okay, and a sex drive switch, but that's a detour we won't take, haha.)

I know the day will come when I have such a switch too. No emotion will stop me from doing what needs doing. Maybe I'll call it a "mode" instead—academic mode, athletic mode, good - girl mode, badass mode, "try to scam a broke student and I'll argue you into the ground" mode, "professor, I don't get this, so I'll hound you till I do" shameless mode...

Max + Caroline: what a beautiful, inspiring duo. Queen Max teaches you to live fiercely, swallowing every hardship and spitting it back as dark, awe - inspiring humor. Our debutante Caroline, with her charmed youth, is naive to the point of dorkiness, annoyingly optimistic, but more stubborn than Max's "life only gets worse" mantra in believing in dreams—a belief so powerful that even Max grudgingly sticks a tiny cupcake shop drawing on the wall, planting it in her heart.

Yes, the ending should crescendo. All emotions, past comforts, former pride—if they don't serve the four years ahead, the college life I'll regret not fighting for—they should be boiled down and flushed into the Atlantic.

I take it back. I don't need multiple modes. Just one handle is enough: one end is the softening Max, the other, the maturing Caroline.

There's an abundance of articles analyzing this three-season comedy from perspectives of fashion trends and comedic humor. Today, I'll focus solely on financial intelligence and what it takes to start a business and get rich.

1. Many love Max, and many love Caroline. If you're a marketer or a business student, ponder why the former attracts more female fans while the latter appeals more to men. Consider this a thought-provoking question.

2. Max has numerous strengths, and the show makes it clear that supporting characters like Han, Oleg, Sophie, and Earl favor her over Caroline—evident in episodes like the celebration before sending Max to baking school in Season 3. Caroline has flaws, with many (especially female viewers) finding her "pretentious." Yet her defining virtue is having clear goals. By contrast, Max's biggest flaw—at least before meeting Caroline—was living aimlessly, day by day.

3. The title "Broke" is double-edged: it can mean "bankrupt" (as with Caroline's past wealth) or "penniless" (Max's lifelong reality). The Chinese translation "破产姐妹" isn't perfect, but it captures the wordplay. Max isn't just broke in pocket; her financial intelligence (let's assume a baseline of 100 for the average person) is far below par. Lacking education on making money (neither school nor her mother taught her), she embodies a poverty mindset: settling for the status quo, content with mediocrity. Contrast this with Caroline's upbringing—her father taught her financial basics like "interest rates" and sent her to business school. Parents, take note: even if you lack financial savvy, consider how to educate your kids in this realm.

4. Caroline obsesses over making money and reviving her family's legacy. Does she have what it takes to be a successful entrepreneur? First and foremost: thick skin (or, more precisely, unwavering determination despite others' opinions). This trait ranks among the top five—if not #1—requirements for wealth, as seen in interviews with tycoons and insights from offline startup veterans.

• Case in point: In Season 1's finale, they crash a gala and corner Martha Stewart in the restroom to pitch their cupcakes. When Martha jokes, "I might not leave here alive if I don't try these," she recognizes Caroline's dogged persistence—a quality veteran entrepreneurs know is crucial.
• In another episode, Caroline's wealthy aunt returns a childhood heirloom, the Seagull Cocoa Cup, because she sees Caroline has shed her privileged entitlement and become a driven entrepreneur, spiritually her equal.

4. Business requires salesmanship. Caroline's pitch for Earl's record is iconic. Beyond technique, salesmanship starts with a mindset—like a table supporting silverware. You must have a sales mentality: pitch anywhere, anytime (worst case, you waste breath; no one will arrest you). If you think pitching is "low-class," recall Martha Stewart carrying five heavy books to a gala to promote herself—she's a billionaire.

5. Max, however, scores below 60 in sales sense. When pitching cupcakes to a pretentious café owner with dreadlocks, Caroline takes a professional B2B approach and welcomes feedback. Max, put off by the owner's attitude, refuses to engage—a classic low-FQ symptom (yes, low financial intelligence is a "condition" that needs fixing).

Worse still: in the episode where Max tries to hand out cupcake shop cards to her boss, Peach, she can't even form a coherent sentence. While comically exaggerated, it mirrors real life: some people joke brazenly but turn shy as schoolchildren when addressing bosses or pursuing serious goals.

Max fans, don't hate me—she's lovable, but her FQ is worrying.

(To avoid Douban glitches, I'll post this now and add the remaining points in a later edit.)