AMAZING GRACE ..... AND FRANKIE

MONDAY MEDIA MUSINGS

If loving Netflix is wrong, then I don't want to be right, or  even $9.99 a month richer. Any streaming service that could bring me the glory that is Grace and Frankie deserves an exclusive relationship with me.  I am yours, Netflix! Pick me up at eight, don't be late.

"Oh, Netflix. You're so dreamy!"

IT'S A JUNGLE OUT THERE!

To be honest, I'm getting just a tad too old for outrage. At this point in my life, I'd need knee- replacement surgery just to keep up with all the reactive jerking. Also, my social media skills could use some Geritol. By the time I figure out the proper hashtag to display my solidarity with those engaged in the most recent bout of collective ire, everyone's moved onto the next trending topic.

I READ "GO SET A WATCHMAN" AND YOU SHOULD, TOO!

(Note: There will be a few spoilers.)

To Kill a Mockingbird was not my favorite novel the first time I read it. Like all good love affairs, this one would take time, distance, and a bit of persistence. Back in 1972, when it was required reading for my 9th grade English class, I was far more interested in historical romances that featured beefy hunks and petite-yet-plucky heroines than the goings-on of a tomboy in a small town in the south. Also, I was a notorious procrastinator, so I treated the To Kill a Mockingbird assignment as I did all the others. I read the CliffsNotes. A decade later, after hearing people proclaim this their all-time favorite, I decided to pick up a copy at the library. By the time I returned that book, three weeks overdue, pages worn and tattered from my reading and rereading, it was a full-on love affair. So, when it was announced that a sequel to the novel had been found in Harper Lee's safe-deposit box, it felt as if  long-lost friends were coming home. Unfortunately, those friends brought with them more than nostalgia. They brought the good, the bad, and the ugly.

Kristen the Yellow Lab Has Left the Building

If you've reached my age, you've most likely lost a pet at some point in your life. Maybe that "pet" was a pail of tadpoles you scooped out of the local drainage ditch or the praying mantis you collected in a shoe box and fed fresh grass clippings and crumpled leaves for half a day. Maybe it was the best pet in the history of man - a pony. Or the worst pet ever - the rabid raccoon living in your grandmother's potting shed. It doesn't matter. When it died, you cried.

I have no jokes to add. This is a sad blog post. Have your hankies at the ready. Clean ones, preferably.

DEPEND ON ME

I've been wasting an entire hour trying to come up with a first sentence far more polite than "WTF?" (Which, if my mother happens to be reading this, stands for What's This Fiasco?) Unfortunately, WTF? is the best I've got. Guess what baby-boomers? We are now the target market for Depend adult diapers. Now, let's not all poop our pants at the same time.

"You had to go there, didn't you?"

HEIDI ABROMOWITZ HAS LEFT THE BUILDING

I remember it like it was yesterday. I was 28 years old, practically wedged under the seat in front of me in the auditorium, my head between my legs, my hands covering my blazing hot face, my legs squeezed tightly together to contain my bladder. I glanced up at my poor husband, who could only respond with a look that said, "Help!" "Do you douche? Do you DOUCHE?? DO. YOU. DOUCHE??!!!" bellowed the small but imposing lady striding across the stage, pointing to random women in the front row, causing them to convulse and bury their own faces. I might have died that day...if one could actually die from laughter. I was at a Joan Rivers performance.

"I was dating a football player. He was so dumb. The man could not count to 21 unless he was naked." Joan Rivers

ICE, ICE MAYBE ...10 REASONS NOT TO TAKE THE ALS ICE BUCKET CHALLENGE

I don't know about you, but the only reason I'd deliberately  toss a bucket of ice water over my head is if I were in the midst of one of those hot flashes that make me feel as if my blood has been replaced by jalapeno peppers. For one thing, clean ice should not be wasted when it is better served chilling my rum and Coke. For another, self-induced hypothermia is not a good look on me. So, when it comes to the ALS Ice-Bucket challenge, pardon me if I give it the cold shoulder. In fact, below are my Top 10 reasons for rejecting this latest internet stunt. Pick the one that best suits you and use it daily!