2025 IN HUNG UP POSTS
Free letter.
I would describe 2025 as “bad,” meaning “pretty terrible, actually,” meaning “I was excited every single day for this year to end.” The year in Hung Up began with “Stop Being January.” It has concluded with “MAGA Minaj.” The year in Hunter Harris began with Peyton and me crying (bad) while carsick on the Amtrak (worse) while going through concurrent breakups1 (awful) and escaping D.C. (too much fascism there). The year in Hunter Harris might end with Remy and me on the sofa watching 20th Century Women and then Holiday and then Catch Me If You Can, getting into bed just after midnight.2
Even though I cried in, like, six states and three countries this year, a lot of good things happened. I met my goddaughter and saw Beyoncé. I profiled Brenda Song and Macaulay Culkin and won a Webby (I think? No one told me officially, actually, so maybe it is actually Cosmopolitan’s). I went to Swig with Whitney from Secret Lives of Mormon Wives. I saw frie…
