A Form Letter For the Masses

You're welcome.


Dear Netflix,


First, let me thank you for your ingenious method by which you've chosen to entertain us. You've made movie night into an American institution again, without the hassle of driving to a store, not to mention saving us from the astronomical price of movie theater popcorn. Watching movies in my underwear has never been so easy. Thank you.


However, I find there's a glitch in the system. You see, until recently, I was beyond thrilled with my Netflix service. How clever that, when I went out to retrieve my mail, there was a happy red envelope there to greet me. Fun! 


Then you decided to throw a curve ball by allowing us to stream movies directly to our computers and/or televisions. NEAT-O! I was beyond excited. Now, I didn't even have to walk to my MAILBOX to get my movie, I could stay seated on my couch (in my underwear) and watch without having to move a muscle.


While I LOVE your streaming service, I have to admit that I find it lacking in one area. I'm disappointed that I can't stream anything I like. Yes, you do have an extensive collection of movies and television shows that I can stream. However, it seems the ones I want to watch are only available on DVD.


You see, I've recently become addicted to The Gilmore Girls. And while I'm paying to receive 3 DVDs at a time from your business, it seems that it takes forever for them to get here.


Granted, it only takes 2 days. Which isn't long at all.


Unless you're frantically curious to find out what's going on between Luke and Lorelei. 


And so, my comfy position on my couch has been compromised, and I'm now having to get dressed every single day so I can walk out to my mailbox eleventy-hundred times in order to stalk my mail carrier.


I can't help it! I'm desperate for more of their quick-like-a-bunny chatter, obscure 80s music references, and adorable togetherness. And can you blame me?


So please, Netflix, from one lazy couch potato to another, won't you please let me stream everything in your collection? It would make our symbiotic relationship that much more satisfying.


Sincerely,
Abby


Now, dear reader, you will notice that portions of the letter above are highlighted in a cheerful sunshine yellow. These portions of the letter are interchangeable to fit your own needs.


For example, feel free to substitute "in my underwear" with other phrases, like "with my family," and "in my submarine" or even "from my secret underground lair (no I'm not Batman)."


Similarly, you may choose to remove "get dressed every single day," and replace that phrase with one like "cry myself to sleep, only to wake up and find that it's another day without my movie, and my glasses are all fogged up from all the crying so I have to ask for a seeing-eye dog..."


Lastly, I am aware that not everyone is a fan of the Gilmore Girls (although I don't understand it, not even for a minute.) So, feel free to substitute with the following:


The Gilmore Girls for The Simpsons, Hairspray,  Bosom Buddies
If you chose The Simpsons, the following substitutions will work:
what's going on between Luke and Lorelei: if Homer will ever successfully strangle Bart
of their quick-like-a-bunny chatter: silly song montages
obscure 80s music references:  hilarious guest-star appearances
adorable togetherness: not-so-adorable togetherness, at least until the end of every episode.

If you chose the classic musical, Hairspray, the following substitutions will work:

what's going on between Luke and Lorelei: if Tracy will win Link's heart (not really because I know this movie by heart)

of their quick-like-a-bunny chatter: of the best songs ever written, ever

obscure 80s music references: Zac Efron face time

adorable togetherness: all the terrific dancing! It excites me!

If you choose Bosom Buddies, the following substitutions will work:

what's going on between Luke and Lorelei: what Tom Hanks will wear next.

of their quick-like-a-bunny chatter: predictable humorous scenarios

obscure 80s music references: awesome 80s hair

adorable togetherness: adorable togetherness

Feel free to copy and paste, and send to your local Netflix office. If we bombard them with clever antics like these, then SURELY I can start streaming The Gilmore Girls instead of having to wait TWO WHOLE DAYS for the DVDs!

Oh wait, it today Tuesday? I have to go set up a tent by the mail box because I think I'm getting one today!

I Finally Know I'm Not Alone

For years, I've tried to find a way to describe how much I hate spiders.


Screaming works somewhat. Turning the color of pureed peas and dashing from the room works sometimes, too. And there has been a time or two when beating said arachnid to a bloody pulp with whatever I have nearby that's handy (a shoe, a catalog, a chair, a hammer, a cleaver) helps alleviate my fears somewhat.

But when it comes to creating clear and coherent sentences to describe my feelings while I'm occupying the same room as an 8-legged creature of doom, I just can't do it. Everything just comes out sounding like


"KILLITKILLITKILLITKILLITEEEEEEEEEEE!"


So when I found Allie's account of her own terror of spiders on her blog Hyperbole and a Half, I finally felt like there were other people in the world who might hate spiders as much as I do. (Please, oh please, oh PLEASE go read Allie's blog before you read mine. Because truly, it's the funniest thing I've ever read. WAY funnier than what I'm about to write. Oh wait....maybe  you shouldn't go read her blog after all....)


I read Allie's post on the same day as my Most Recent Terror-Inducing Encounter with A Spider This Month. So...in the spirit of sharing...here it goes.


I was sitting on my adorable green sofa, minding my own business, watching an episode of the Gilmore Girls. It was an ordinary Friday evening, and I was in junk food, Netflix heaven. Suddenly, after a particularly humorous Lorelei pun, I happened to notice that my cat, Harry, was sitting on the floor in front of me, staring at a spot somewhere between the ceiling and the floor. 


I didn't think anything of it, because cats often do the "Stare At One Spot For Awhile Because It Seems Intriguing" thing.


A few moments later I noticed that my other cat, Scooter, had joined him in the staring.


Before I even SAW the little monster, I knew exactly what they were staring at.


Trying to calm my breathing and keep my dinner in my stomach as opposed to all over the rug, I sat perfectly still and attempted to focus my eyes on the same spot they were staring at. 


And then, there it was----The Spider---sliding down its icky sticky web like Tom Cruise in Mission Impossible.


To my credit, I did not scream. 


Because screaming only works if there's someone to hear your screams and then rush to your rescue.


I was home alone.


Except for the cats but they don't think "OMG SPIDER OF DEATH KILL IT," they think, "Oh yea, a new friend! Let's bat him around until all his legs fall off then eat him!"


In what feels like a ten-year time span, but what in reality was probably 10 seconds, I come up with The Most Brilliant Plan Known To Man. Except that plan was to beat the ever-loving crap out of that spider with my shoe.


I waited. And I waited. And I waited some more.


And the damn thing never continued its disgusting trip down its web. It just stayed there, dangling from the ceiling, as if taunting me with its hairy little self. 


UGH.


So, I decided to stop waiting, and took matters into my own hands. It went something like this:

KILLITKILLITKILLITEEEEE!!

I did it! It's dead! Hooray for me!

Oh, snap. What if it's NOT dead? What if it's just waiting for me to move these shoes just slightly so it can jump out and eat my face??????

WAAAAAAAAAAH!

I stood there, frozen, for eleven years, and wondered what my fate would be if I just dropped the shoes and ran for the hills.


Eventually, I started breathing again, and my mind started working enough to begin thinking "Where the hell is that wonderful husband of mine when I really need him?" That's when I devised Phase Two of my Not So Brilliant Plan Afterall.


After careful planning (as much as I could without drawing a diagram and calling in reinforcements. Because let's face it, those shoes weren't budging) I took a deep breath and launched Phase Two. Which went something like this:

Grip shoes, with *hopefully* dead spider carcass with one hand while...

...opening the front door with the other hand so I could...

...launch shoes out front door, with *hopefully* dead carcass still smooshed between Loafers 1 and 2...

...and breathe. And don't pass out or throw up...

Because my husband knows me so well, he didn't even question the sprawled loafers in the front yard when he got home from work later that night. He just checked for bodies, picked them up and brought them in.


And I *know* illustrations would've been funnier....but unlike Allie, I can't even draw spiders. 


Even cartoons of spiders creep me out.


So....maybe I am alone.

Scoo-Tar the Magnificent: Finale

PS: If you're blind, like me, you can click on the pictures to make them bigger.


Did you miss Act 1 and Act 2? No sweat, that's what the little linkies are for. Stay tuned for our next comic strip series, coming next Sunday!

People I Envy the Most

I'm not too proud to admit that there are a few people on this planet who I envy.


Yes, my life is pretty darn fantastic. There's not much to complain about. I'm a blessed woman and I know it.


But there are a few factions of folks whose shoes I'd like to wear, if only for a day.


Here's my top 5:


#5 Disney World Employees

I love Disney World. I've only been once, but the one thing that stuck out to me (more than the happiness abounding from around each and every corner) was how cheerful, helpful, wonderful, and clean the entire staff was. Whether they were cleaning bathrooms, handing you food, giving out directions, or helping you onto a ride, every single person I encountered while within the hallowed walls of Mickey's little world was absolutely perfect.


Would I ever want to be one of the princesses or a Mickey dressed in Safari gear?


Absolutely not.


But I think it would be such fun to work in one of the shops or restaurants on the Disney property. I mean....is anyone in a bad mood while they're at Disney World? Anyone?


#4 Beautiful Women Who Jog (especially on the beach)

If you are one of these women---I don't hate you! I swear! In fact, you're part of a sorority I'm dying to pledge.


But it doesn't matter than I want to be you desperately. Because inevitably, when you jog prettily by me, wearing your adorable matching sports bra and tennis shoes, I'm going to have something snarky to say under my breath.


You won't hear me. Just keep jogging. And being beautiful. And healthy. And thin....


#3 Oprah Winfrey

Not because she's rich. Or because she lives in a big, fancy house. Or because she knows everyone in show business.


Only because she knows (and apparently gets to kiss) Hugh Jackman. For that, I envy her.


#2 The People Who Live Here

You should envy them, too. Santorini.....sigh....


and finally, #1 The Backup Dancers for the New Kids on the Block







(Video is here: http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=FC4nPcxZH8I)

It's true, you might not understand this obsession of mine. In fact, those of you who are of the age who, like me, grew up obsessed with the New Kids have most likely moved on to other obsessions. It's fine. I don't blame you (much.)


The truth of the matter: when I was 10 years old, I was CONVINCED that I was going to grow up and become a dancer for the New Kids.


It never dawned on me that they might break up, or no longer be touring by the time I was old enough to join their posse. (That's the cool kid lingo.)


Nor did it ever occur to me that as I aged, so would they.


For 2 or 3 summers of my childhood, I spent every single day with My First Sony tape player, a New Kids on the Block cassette tape, and my backyard. I danced and performed and sang my little heart out.


Most of the time it was just for me. Other times, it was for my entire family (Thanks, Mom and Dad, for suffering through those concerts....)


It wasn't just a dream for me, it was my reality.


Now, to know that they're on tour again, with backup dancers much younger than me, and to know that I missed my opportunity...


Well, I want to stab those skinny little girls in the kneecap.


But then, Donnie might not like me, and that would make me sad. So I'll just be envious from afar.






Photo sources:
Disney: www.mailonline.com
Jogger: http://www.saidaonline.com
Oprah: www.zimbio.com
Santorini: http://www.book-santorini-hotels.com

I'm Not Good At April Fools Day.

It's because I'm so expressive.


If you come around the corner and see me making this face:

The Face

...one of four things is about to happen.


1. I'm about to prank you. IE: pie in the face, plastic wrap on the toilet seat, evil clowns jumping out from behind the closet door....


2. I'm about to lie to you. IE: Yes, honey, I was listening to that enthralling story about the new wine rep, not totally ignoring you while whipping our cat into a frenzy with the always-humorous shoe string game.


3. I'm about to lay down a Straight Flush on top of your not-so-royal cards. Seriously. I do NOT have a poker face. So if I'm making THAT face, and/or I'm giggling, you should fold. Immediately.


4. Ten of your closest friends are about to jump out with balloons, a cake, and a barbershop quartet to serenade you on your birthday. SURPRISE!!!


Don't believe me? Let me tell you about my husband's surprise birthday party last year.


First, let me say that the entire event had been planned to occur somewhere other than my house. It wasn't until a week before said event that I realized that it was Super Bowl Sunday, and, for some reason unbeknownst to me, the restaurant is closed on Super Bowl Sunday. So, I had to scramble to rearrange our plans, and to bring the party to us.


So. The day of the party, I'm a house-cleaning, food-cooking mad woman. The hubby thinks my parents are coming over for the game, and he keeps asking questions that I'm sure are going to eventually lead him to discovering the truth of our plans for the evening.


B: Why are you making such a huge pot of chili?
A: Because Mom and Dad are coming over.
B: Yeah, but that's enough chili to feed an army. That's not a pot of chili, that's a VAT of chili.
A: Yes, it is a vat....because I want there to be leftovers for tomorrow....and the next day.
B: Oh. Ok.


Ten minutes later...


B: Why are you putting out a veggie plate?
A: Because Dad likes veggies.
B: Yeah, but there's that huge vat of chili, and the cheese ball, and the chips and salsa. Now you're putting out veggies, too?
A: Yes, because Dad said he was really hungry. Plus, any leftovers and I can make vegetable beef stew later this week.
B: Oh. Ok.


Five minutes later....


B: Why are you wearing shoes?
A: What?
B: Why are you wearing shoes? Are we going somewhere? You're dressed and I'm still in my pajamas. I thought we were watching the game here tonight.
A: We are.
B: So why do you have on shoes?
A: (Pause and try not to kill the birthday boy) Because I'm getting ready to take the trash out.
B: Oh. Ok.


FINALLY I hear a car door close outside. Knowing it's our party guests, I immediately jump from my seat and run for the kitchen.


A: Gotta stir the chili!
B: (From his perch in his already-football-prone position.) Wait? Aren't you going to get the door?
A: Nope. Gotta stir the chili! Be right there!!!


See, at this part of the evening, he had to know something was up. Because you see, the whole plan hinged on HIM answering the door, since his surprise birthday party parade was springing the surprise from our doorway.


I hear him mutter under his breath, heave himself from the sofa, and answer the door.


Our guests: SURPRISE!!!!!!!!!!!!
B: So, that's why she went to stir the chili.


Yes, he was surprised, and yes, it was a great party.

And yes, it was Transformer-themed.

Did I pull it off? Sure. Would I have pulled it off if he hadn't been getting over a cold, and was still doped up on Nyquil?


Definitely not. Because then, he would've seen The Face.