60 Years Are Too Many: Last Day

     29 May 2026

        Wouldn't it have been cool if I had thought to track every day of the school year?

        The only reason I've been able to write this much is becuase we're post musical, kids stopped attending and my mental health needed something. I couldn't write new or altered lesson plans because I never knew who was going to show up every day, and when only two kids---or one---shows up the last two weeks of school, there really isn't any lesson plan in theatre you can create. Do not come at me with slam poetry or original monologues: I didn't know which two or which one would show up. Just stop. I'm a professional, and believe me: I tried every single game/exercize/...ad infinitum.

        The headache is pretty consistent though. End of year stuff is always fun. I can count on a cough, a UTI or a yeast infection. The headache is a new touch.

        When I pulled in this morning they were already unloading the theatre. I watched my flats and lumber get loaded into a truck. Hope it comes back, lumber is expensive. That ply that we use for platforms is $40 a sheet. Dude.

        Axios scoops and reports from his source Jared Kushner and the ritual is the same every week...he's manipulating the stock market and we all know it.

        What's sad is that so many are compliant in this, out of fear or greed. He and his corrupt cronies need to be ousted. OUT. OUT. The Little Boy Who Cried Wolf was ostracized and allowed to be killed because the village was tired of him being A Big Fat Liar.

        Hold on. Did they let him die? 

        Worse. Aesop let the wolf eat the sheep as the boy hollered and was ignored. The boy survives to "learn his lesson".

        Damn.

23 Years Are Too Many

 

    28 May 2026

        Okay.    

       This isn't a usual "Turn in your keys, clean up, see ya" end of year.

        There is a theatre renovation starting next week, so I had to clear out my office. I also began to clear paths and make piles in the shop. Allegedly, they will be loading everything---all lumber, flats, tools---out of the shop so they can do Whatever It Is they're going to do back there.     

        Think they'll bring back all my lumber, flats and tools?

        I hate this.

        I had to go through this at Littleton and they didn't even mess with the shop. They just ripped up the stage and house...

        So let's address a few burning questions in order: 

         1.   If Kennedy is slated to "close" due to low test scores and poor attendance, why are they bothering to renovate the theatre?

         2.   How am I teaching Stagecraft in a classroom until October.

         Number one.  Okay. First, lemme just restate: They cannot shift any of the money to the band room, which flooded and destroyed all of the instruments, and is still uninhabitable. 

    The theatre works, it's functional, there is No Need to renovate it other than to update the lights and sound. 

    The band room, on the other hand, just lost all of its instruments and likely has black mold and a swamp monster. But you can't use any of the money coming in to help the department that needs it.

     Grant and Mill Levy renovations are annoying.You can only use the money for what it was originally intended. So--follow me here---even though the school is in danger of "closing", they still have to renovate the theatre because that's what the money was for. Even if we don't get out of orange and have to go into innovation or reimagination or whatever the buzzword is these days. Follow me again---going into innovation or reimagination or whatever the buzzword is these days means getting rid of all admin, making teachers reapply and cutting departments. You know--like performing arts. Or consolidating-making the choir teacher also teach band, or the choir teacher also has theatre. It's always the poor choir teacher.     

        So, if we don't get out of orange in August and are in the middle of a theatre renovation that keeps performing arts dark until at least October, preventing us from performing, it will be an easy decision to say "Consolidate"  and boom. Because we didn't do any shows while the theatre was dark, so why do we need to do shows? OH, we paid for this renovation, oops.

        Expensive renovated theatre in the hands of overworked and under appreciated choir teacher who cannot possibly float two departments, two full theatre productions and four concerts on her own.

        This debacle matches my time line. I have already done 90% of what I said I would do here. You could argue I've done 100% if you remember I said "I'm just here to get the wheels back on". Which you could argue I have done.

    But if you argue my class numbers are still low which means only 90%, then with the theatre closed in the fall, I can only make it to 95%-- That last 5% is a stagecraft class. So I will have to call it at two years in 2027 without having fully rebooted the theatre. My license expires in June of 2027 anyway. Hmmmm. Coincidence?

        Number two. When I was hired I immediately began sussing out what the kids in this building need. I was told by admin "they" wanted a theatre; the kids and the community. That was inaccurate and became screamingly clear when I struggled to get The Odd Couple up.    

        My choices at that point were that the admin who hired me lied to me because they want a theatre, or admin has no idea what it takes to build a strong theatre department and they want a "comprehensive high school" that includes all three in their performing arts.     

        I chose to believe the later, as one must do for one's own sanity.

        Once I decided they had no idea, as we powered through the musical, I listened and watched the kids. What they want is to work with their hands. They do not want to act or be seen on stage or anaylize scripts or any of the stuff that I like. Those are also the things I Am Good At. What these kids want is exactly my achilles heel in theatre: tech. But OK. I was hired to do a job.     

        I knew we'd be dark in the fall for the renovation. I also knew if we didn't offer stagecraft for next year, we'd miss the window of opportunity. Besides, just putting in on the scheudle doesn't mean kids will request it. Right? So I put it on the schedule.

        Forty kids requested it.

        Oh, okay. Great. So, now what?

        We'll be learning props and costumes, building and baking and cooking and stitching and design in the fall in the classroom. Some set designs, sketches and cardboard models. I can teach that. But...they signed up to use a drill and build and learn the light and sound boards. 

        My hope is the admin who registered the kids did so soley based on those who requested it. That way they will hang on with all the design and paperwork stuff until we can get down there and Do The Things. Theatre classes used as dumping grounds go poorly, and in stagecraft we have so many safety issues, it's irresponsible.

        Also, admin only gave me one section of stagecraft, and I capped it at fifteen. So In Theory I will have a manageable number of kids who actively requested tech theatre.

        Which is why I added stitching, and cooking and baking. At least they will be able to Do Things. 

         And yet...I think I've said this before...I don't think I'm coming back.     

       I suspect that feeling is valid, based on the PTSD I've had in the past. But those BOTH happened in October, not over the summer. So it's just a feeling, not a premonition.

       The feeling does not match up with my visualizations which are flashing 2027 at me. It doesn't match up with my license expiring which is 2027. It doesn't match up with the projected date that Kennedy will go into "innovation" or whatever the hell the buzzword is, which is 2027.

        So why am I glitchy?

        Likely because I'm sixy and sixty years are too many, and I'm twenty three years in and can retire at only 52% of my salary which is robbery and everything sucks all of the time. 

        And every summer I secretly hope to win the lottery.

        Because I'm done teaching theatre. I'm done directing. I'm too old for anyone to seek out my limited talents, and I'm too tired to apply for jobs anymore. I only do pony school because I need the money and they're actually truly appreciative and nice to me.

        And yes, I'm depressed. We know this. Who cares? So is anyone with a conscience, eyeballs and ears.

        I stopped applying for jobs in 2023, I couldn't go to any more educational theatre interviews and watch their faces when they registered my age. But two weeks ago...I started looking around. I really wanted a gig at Red Rocks Community College, a desk job working with the concurrent enrollment kids. But my experience is in teaching, not counseling, so my application didn't even get past the AI bot. 

        I also thought about working at the Colorado Train Museum as the Volunteer Director. I know jack about trains or volunteering, but I'm a beast with scheduling and communication.

        I am done. And writing this I realize I'm looking for my retirement job. Because I can't afford to retire, I'll have to work someplace full time with benefits, but I don't want to be around edcuation anymore. I have no desire to sub---and besides, you can't get insurance when you do that.     

        I truly hate capitalism.

        Because I've worked long and hard enough to have earned the opportunity to have access to reasonable insurance and stay home and write.

        And where the hell is my STL to sign my stupid checkout form so I can leave?

        Scene.

60 Years Are Too Many: Unsolicitied and Unfounded Predictions

 

    27 May 2026

        I am not a psychic, nor do I play one on TV. 

       But I read Trump's unhinged posts and listen to his rants.

       The Truth Is Out There.

       I offer my Off The Cuff Five Predictions; based on late night AI and "Truth" social posts from Trump, a few scattered psychics, my own cobbled infant level understanding of Tarot, prayer and common sense.

         #1   A Fake Alien Invasion. Like War Of The Worlds only "covered" by Fox News. People will die unnecessarily so Trump can look like a hero and "save" us. It's his last resort as his wars and tarriffs have failed. So will this. It will cost lives, but it will fail. Those who missed it--he posted an AI image of him leading an "alien" in handcuffs while the world burned around him. People are going to die because of his fearmongering.

        #2 His death in June. It will not stop the insanity, but it will slow it down and everything will be revealed. Musk will try to take over. I really want this to be 1 June 2026 meaning...next week... but I accept it could be next June, but it's June. Honestly if he dies this June, I doubt his admin would move forward with the alien invasion scenario.

        #3 What is happening--and has been since 2016--is what Bible Thumpers call "The Rapture". It is not Christians being called to heaven in glory and the non believers left behind. The reality is that human beings are evolving past religion, into what we are supposed to become.  Did NONE of you people listen to Yoda? "Luminous beings are we. Not this crude matter." Those left behind will not evolve, or embrace change and will be the ones left with a destroyed planet and nothing but hate. Their AntiChrist will be whatever is left of MAGA or the oligarchs, and everything beautiful on earth will have been "called home". Only the empty rock and AI will be left here for them to fight over. Terminator without "real" humans underground.

        #4 I will not live to see this disaster repaired, but somehow I will be part of repairing it. Which is wild to say becuase I'm 60 and I have a headache just thinking about this stuff. But somehow...a teeny tiny bit of the repair will be because I said or did or taught or stitched or planted some miniscule something.

        #5 My children will be part of the New Generation that rises in kindness, community and peace.    

        So Let It Be Written.

        So Let It Be Done.

        Scene

60 Years Are Too Many: Twenty Two Graduations

     27 May 2026

        Today is our 37th anniversary.

       He had to work and I had to go to graduation.

       Which is today's story.

       Today was the 22nd graduation I have attended. Yes, I am a 23 year veteran, PERA says  I have 23 years in. Which I do--they count the first year I was a sub. Which is why I've only attended 22 graduations.

        The first years at Littleton, all three schools graduated on our field and it was always the hottest day of the year. I spent Harp's graudation fixated on watching her in the hundred degree heat, hoping she wouldn't pass out. My first year I foolishly dressed up in an actual dress and flats---I do not do heels--and almost expired from the heat. The senior teachers liked to tell stories about the year it snowed on graduation day, but in my 18 years there, that was a fairy tale. It was always blazing hot.

        And no disrespect, but I heard way too many valedictorian speeches praising the popular IB TOK teacher and commenting on the doors opening into the hallways, knocking students in the head as freshmen.  

        Then DU figured out it could make money off of high schools by allowing them--and by "allow" I mean "charge money"-- to graduate on their campus. Specifically the Ricks Center. Specifically on the hockey ice. Which they cover, of course. But dude. Why do schools blow good money on ridiculous nonsense like this? Littleton, Aurora AND Denver have all fallen for it. Parking costs money for parents and students. It's nothing but a jingle jangle money maker for a private university that does not appear to need the money.

        My final graduation ceremony--which sadly was at DU--with Littleton was the sweetest. One of my theatre kids was selected to be The First Graduation Poet. She wrote a lovely poem that included beautifully veiled references to how poorly the principal was treating staff, and honored me with a reference to my mohawk. I wish I had the poem. 

        Since then I've only missed one graduation. My first year at Hinkley was  2020...and they did a drive by graduation in their parking lot. I did not attend. The following year they returned to the ice at DU.

        I attended Kennedy's last year, also at DU, even though I'd only been there a few months. I had one senior I felt strongly about representing. Without her, I never would have believed the program could be rebuilt.

        In all of those years, who knows the math, I've never parked in a lot on the DU campus. I have underground and covered parking anxiety, so I always---literally always ---park at the meters by some field. Maybe lacrosse. Who knows. Anyway. It's cheaper than paying $10 to park in an outer lot or underground. And generally, our graduations have been early enough for me to get a spot. We are given parking passes for the outer lots, but every single year I manage to forget or am unable to locate the human with the pass.

        This year, there was a sign that said I needed a parking pass for the pull in meters. I parked anyway, but had anxiety. Two nights ago Jim asked if I was going to graduation.He's never asked and I've always just gone, it's my job, and I bitch about it but I go. But I looked at him and said flatly "I don't wanna go." I figured the anxiety was continuing so I was probably going to get a ticket for parking in The Wrong Place. Premonition or depression? (Spoiler alert, I did not get a ticket).

        I grabbed my regalia----let's pause here. My "regalia". I did not walk at my college graduation. I just don't do pagentry. So my grad robes are robes I procured from storage at Littleton. People would quit and leave their robes behind. So my work wife and I went shopping one year. That was over 20 years ago, but I still have two black robes, one is a master's robe. I also still have masters cowls.

        I do not have a masters.

        At Littleton A.O.--Dr...still can't say her name -had a PhD and we all needed to know about it. She insisted on regalia so she could wear her silly PhD hat. She also liked having rows of masters hoods representing among faculty, because that's who she is. Looks are everything. 

        I had two hoods I was alternating from year to year---one was pink (music) and one was dark blue (philosophy/poly sci/ethics). I also have a light blue one, education, that everybody has so I never use it. If I'm going to fake a masters, I want it to be unique. The hoods were also liberated from the storage closet. I think I had four of them, but somewhere along the line I gave one to another teacher to wear. It's pagentry. Was I unclear?

        It's a costume piece.

        And it is not lost on me that the unearned hood I wear is in ethics.

        I stopped wearing them when it became clear that's what Oaks liked. It became a badge of honor to sit with the other lowly "Bachelor Degree Onlies". There was a social studies teacher who joined us, he refused to wear his masters hood. I had forgotten about that until just now. He would sit next to me and nod in solidarity. It was very Working Class.

        OK. So I grab my liberated masters robe and master of philosophy/poly sci/ethics hood and feed the meter. It's six forty five a.m. Graduation is at eight, seven a.m. arrival.

        I really do not want to be here.

        And I cannot identify why.

        At Littleton kids were not allowed any unapproved regalia. Nothing from your family, we couldn't even give them Thespian cords. Only NHS, IB and their sanctioned stoles. No sign of individuality at all, just school authorized prizes.

         At Kennedy there are stoles worn by kids that were handed down by grandparents, some with grandparents' names. I saw the same at Hinkley and it blew my mind. Native American regalia and sashes they bought elsewhere with flowers and glitter words written in Spanish on their mortar boards. Absolutely glorious. I saw the same when I attended Genoa's college graduation at Ft. Lewis. Such a celebration of cultures and family.

        AO's head would have exploded.

        So I sat with the lovely art teacher and chatted on the bleachers of Hamilton gym, our staging area. We chatted about how nice it is to see diverse and family regalia, the corruption throughout all school districts and she called all of her previous principals "Little Trumps" and I realized...yes. YES.

        I started to not feel great. Nothing big, just intenstinal. Just enough to be able to signal leaving and not having to stay for graduation.

        Yep.

        I bailed.

        I smiled at my kids, they all saw me. I sat with faculty, admin saw me.

        And then I just walked out instead of walking onto the covered ice.

        That was it.

        Quiet, nobody noticed, nobody cared. Which is perfect. Why should they? It's not about me.

        So graduation #22 is "complete".  

        Why didn't I think of this years ago? If you just turn left instead of following the line to the chairs on ice, you are free.

        To be fair, I wouldn't have done this under different circumstances. Hell, I sat there at my last Littleton graduation and quietly watched The Devil practice smiling and gladhanding her precious IB graduates. I was just disregulated in more than one way today. It was very different. The usual joy at seeing so many families and flowered mortar boards just...fell flat.

        I did make it home in time to spend my morning near a bathroom.

        And write this.

       Scene.

60 Years Are Too Many. 1984 continued...

         26 May

        I wanted to end on Breakfast Club because it flowed so well, but technically that came out in 1985.

        But Terminator came out in 1984. 

        And unlike the current billionaire oligarch class, I did not see that movie as a "How To" manual. I was concerned. As a human being should be.

        As such, I refuse ANY AI interactions. At All. I barely use google. I need to switch to the search engine that helps rescue dogs.

        But honestly, who among the six of you who read this really noticed or cared that I quoted a movie that was not released until 1985. I mean for realsies. It's "our" movie, we don't argue over the relevancy of its quotes being used in an imagined 1984 re-enactment in Lakewood Colorado by a washed up theatre teacher who struggles with people who encountered her in high school claiming she hissed at them.

        I never hissed, and you're hurting my feelings.

        Back to computers. Skynet. I had a flip phone for two years longer than anyone else, and when I was forced to give it up I got a slider phone. It wasn't until much, much later---when they stopped making the sliders and flips---that my family bullied me into an iPhone. Bullied. Straight up. UGH. I insist on using it only to text and post on facebook. I will not add any aps...apps...how many "p's"? Who cares. It's ridiculous and I won't do it.

        Except for the one stupid app I need to get paid by the pony school. 

        But That's It.

        You need additional codes to add any apps, and they are tied to Jim's phone and I refuse to learn them so I can't add anything.

        What was my point?

        Skynet.

        Yes. Thank you.

        Their data centers are going to dehydrate all of us, and their robots will put those who survive out of work. Why are they celebrating a robot that can sort packages? It will replace workers. Once workers are replaced, they have no job. No job is no money to buy things that would be put into packages and shipped.

        I cannot possibly be the only person who sees this.

        Which brings us to 60 years old, and 1984. Which we are clearly living through again, because nobody took any of the warnings to heart and believed Superman would save us.

        He is not going to save us. We're screwed.

        I thought I was depressed in 1984.

        Sixty year old me stared blankly at me and said "Hold my beer".

        Remind me to buy a lawn chair for the back of my car.

       Scene.

        

60 Years Are Too Many: 1984

 

    26 May 2026

        As I write on my school laptop and listen to binaural beats on You Tube, I continue to contemplate what it would take to live one day like it was 1984.

        This summer. In 2026. At the age of 60. How hard would it be to function one day like 1984?

        I woke up on Monday with  TWO THOUSAND ZERO ZERO PARTY OVER OOPS OUT OF TIME in my head. Prince released the song in 1982, but nonetheless...when Megan was over on Sunday, she commented on our fake pay phone. It's a prop, it could be plugged into a landline if landlines still existed. She said they are now "universal" lines. I started to obsess over getting this one phone plugged into a landline, so that's probably when the idea was planted.

        Because...how do I live like 1984 without a land line?

        And is land line two words or one? Landline. Land line.

        I do have a record player, but not a cassette player. Or even cassettes.

        Can I talk to my children? They weren't "here" in 1984 but they existed somewhere in my body, right? I failed biology in high school.

        Can I drive my 2021 Subaru? I don't have access to a car that is still running that would have been around in 1984. Does anyone? But I had a car, so can I drive a car? If I did not, I would have to ride the bus. If I was reliving 1884 I'd have to ride a horse.

        If I drive my Subaru, must I put a lawn chair in the back, as I had back in '84 awaiting the Nuclear Holocaust?

        TV stations are mostly ...not good. I could find a platform to watch a TV show from 1984, but then I'd be using a platform, not ABC, CBS, NBC, PBS or Teletunes. Is MTV still on? Regardless, do I want to watch Whose The Boss? I don't remember watching it then. 

        On Monday--Memorial Day---I sat and read a book. But the book was written in 2018. So if this is a thing I have to figure out the parameters. But I limited my cell use and sat in a chair and read a book and brushed my dog. Made coffee. But dude...no coffee makers, right? I didn't drink coffee in 1984. Was it still a thing on a stove top?

https://www.nytimes.com/1984/12/19/garden/kitchen-equipment-coffee-grinder-brewer.html

        Didn't use AI, used NYT archive. But still. They had bean grinders and electric coffee makers. Nobody in our house drank coffee, so I had no idea. Were there even coffee shops? Like neighborhood? 

         I have a watch, my dad's watch, and analog clocks in my house. But nothing dates back. So...just use the same technology that was available seems reasonable. Or watch the TV shows that were available. So Andy Griffith on a platform is fine?

        I do have a SIMON! I love that thing. I know those were around. Yippeee.

        But no cell phone, no laptop, no social media (clearly). I'll have to listen to the radio in my car for the news, or the record player for music. A Whole Day without Aaron Parnas. It's not like I can go get a morning paper...

        So I can drive my car. I can read a book. It has to be a book written before 1984 or published in 1984. Fair; I have Stephen King. But they've all been reprinted. 

        We will allow platforms for TV shows but I have to watch one of the Big Three for the news or listen to NPR on my car radio. Wait. Yes. They existed. But I'd have to use a computer to pull an archival All Things Considered from 1984.

        What else?

        King Soopers, McDonald's, Wendy's, Burger King all existed but no thank you, I will not be eating fast food that day. I'll go to the Soopers and get Kraft Mac N Cheese.

        I'll have to handwrite in my journals, and that's all good. It's a little slow, my brain moves at the speed of my typing, not my wide loopy cursive. I have an old electric typewriter in the props closet at school without a ribbon. I could go on a ribbon searching adventure!

        Target existed, but not the Mills. Not that I'd go to Target, I'm just naming things at this point. I can play bubbles. Wax Trax. Fashionation.  OH there was coffee, there was Muddy's. I was never cool enough to go. There is an Old Chicago where Marie Callendars used to be. I think there's something where Paris on the Platte used to be. There's a Rite Aid where JB&H was. Until there wasn't, and now it's a car wash. I thought the gas station was where JB&H was, but my brain is damaged.

    I could keep going. The 7-11 or StopN Go or whatever it was is a Mexican Restaurant. I took out one of their gas pumps in 1982 with my grandpa's 1972 LeMans Pontiac. Her name was Gwenevere. The car, not the gas pump. I sped off before introductions could be made.

       Can I Go To There if There no longer is What It Was? So I Go To There ,There Isn't Here But It's A Starbucks instead of McDonald's.  And the McDonald's is where the Chinese buffet was.

       So where are we with this? 

        Living a day like 1984 isn't that complicated as long as you let go of things like AM radio, a stereo system with a radio in your home ---oh OH we still had the massive piece of furniture in ours! The one with AM/FM dial radio, a turn table AND a TV with speakers on the sides. Furniture. Unmovable. Anyway. You can function as long as you leave your cell phone on for an emergency, since No Land Lines Anywhere Ever Again. I can use the microwave. I can make sun tea.

         I can write with my toes. I can also eat, brush my teeth...I can tape all your buns together.

           Needle Scratch. I know Breakfast Club didn't come out until 1985 I know Iknowiknowiknow...it just fit too well.

        So...I'll be back.

        

60 Years Are Too Many: Grammar And Tripe

 

    22 May 2026

        While "60 is too many years" is grammatically correct as sixy is singular... 60 years is one entity, I think?- it's driving me bug shit. So I changed it.

        Because the last thing standing between Us and Them is proper grammar, dammit, and I will stand by it! Even if I can't truly suss out whether 60 is plural or singular in this sentence. I could use AI.

HAHAHAHAAHAHAHAHAHAAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAAHAHHAHAHAAAABWAHAHHAHAHAHAAHAHAHAHaAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAA. Ha.

        I watched 9 News for a few minutes last night until the propoganda pissed me off. I saw that Harvard has ended its contract with ChatGPT. As everything we're seeing, nothing changes until the People Change It. I stand with Harvard.

        I was "stuck" upstairs last night---can you hear the whiney privilege in my voice?--because Jim was shampooing the carpet downstairs. Generally we sit down there in the cave and binge watch shows until bed time. So I can't watch anything we watch together while I'm upstairs, and MONK was over so I had to watch Just Shoot Me. Note the privilege in "had to" watch on a second TV upstairs. Whiney. Privilege. 

         Also thanks for not judging my evening relaxation choices or the disorganization of my brain.

        Just Shoot Me is not a show I ever recall watching. It has people in it that I recognize but that's about it. 

        The premise is awful. 

        I honestly thought we'd evolved farther by 1997, but clearly no. The old dad has remarried someone his daughter's age, he maniuplates his daughter into working for his sexist magazine by throwing free designer shoes and cappuccinos at her---and she forgets she's a real journalist? 

        What just happened? Someone who was clearly written to be a tough reporter suddenly becomes gooney bird stupid over shoes? 

        'cause at heart she's just a girl, and all girls like shoes.

         UGH. Barf.

        So Many Issues.

        She doesn't think she's pretty, so she makes faces for her ID photos. And Malthasar (the actor who plays the photographer in this show is in Galaxy Quest) rubs her shoulders and makes her close her eyes and imagine she's in a sexy gown and looks pretty and everybody's touching everybody and David Spade is a sexist dick and I threw up and turned it off. I think I made it three or four episodes in. There was a whole thing with David Spade being annoyed at being called a secretary, which is what his job appears to be. Ugh.  

        UGH. Barf.

        Wendy Malick is a better actor than this writing. Laura San Giacomo is a better actor than this tripe. Yet...here they are. Tripe. If you don't know what "tripe" is, look it up or watch Just Shoot Me. It also still felt very 1980's with the fashion magazine and thin storylines but it's supposed to be 1997. UGH. Just UGH.

    I think it was a popular show, but I have no idea. In 1997 I had a one year old and was pregnant, so I was busy. I listened to NPR in the morning and watched Quantum Leap reruns while nursing and pumping. When was Frasier? I remember watching that show and liking it a great deal. Now when I rewatch, I feel the same UGH/Barf issues with Roz's storyline. Why can't women just be strong and not neurotics who "just need a man".

     Watching Just Shoot Me reminded me that I dipped out of the mid to late 90's. I had two kids. I was busy. When we did get time together after the kids went to bed, it was FOX or HBO on Sunday nights. Mulder and Scully or Tony Soprano, for several years there we only watched HBO shows. The writing was so much better. 

      Now with Hulu and Netflix, I can revisit shows I missed and conclude that...I really didn't miss much. In fact, I missed nothing.

        When I dip in to binge watch, I find myself returning to 30 Rock, Brooklyn 99, The Good Place and Schitt's Creek. Jim and I are watching Scrubs and I can taste the bile...but I manage. At least the first three seasons were funny funny. Why can't Eliot just be a doctor and why does JD have to constantly objectify women and Why OH Why (you must say that in Dr. Cox's voice for full effect) are all the women skinny ass blondes except for Carla? And Jordan. But she's married to the guy who created the show, so she doesn't count. He wrote ONE "strong" female role and his wife got it. Hmmm...

        Ok. Lunch is almost over. Last day for my odd period classes. Anyone want to put bets on how many show up for fifth period? I say two.

        I'll let you know.