
Go turn on Lifetime
and tell me what’s on.
I’ll wait.
It was
The Golden Girls, wasn’t it?
Now go back and turn on We. You know, We … that new channel targeting gal viewers, yet – like Lifetime – has more gays watching than gals.
Ga’head. I’ll refill my glass while you go check.
Golden Girls there too, right?

I mean just because it’s on like 24 hours a day now, between showings on Lifetime AND We, AND occasionally even Hallmark, and just because I tend to watch it constantly, Alex had the nerve to tell me that I watch the
Golden Girls too much.
Too much?
As if there could be such a thing as “too much”
Golden Girls.
It’s almost as if he thinks I’m obsessed.
I mean, obsessed would mean I would need to be constantly engrossed in the show. Or do crazy things like text quotes from the current episode showing to Nick or Peter … such quotes as No, I mean I LOVED Big Daddy … or It’s only been a day since you killed Frieda Claxton … or Sonny Bono get off my lanai!

Obsessed would mean I would know the intrinsic details of each character’s life … obscure facts about their fictional families … like how Blanche Elizabeth Hollingsworth Devereaux had two sisters, Charmagne and Virginia, and one brother Clayton. Or that Rose was the adopted daughter of Gunter and Alma Lindstrom, and had sisters Holly and Lilly.
Obsessed would mean that I would lose sleep over the show’s inconsistencies. I mean why didn’t any of Phil’s kids come to his funeral? And just how many kids did Blanche have? Skippy? Doug? Janet? Matthew? Rebecca? Other Rebecca? And if Dorothy was 17 when she married Stan because she was pregnant why are her kids, Kate and Michael, only (seemingly) in their late 20s or early 30s?

And what the hell happened to Coco, the gay cook from the first episode?
Me, obsessed? Oh, no.
But I do need to go. Dr. Jonathan Newman is coming over for dinner, and I hear that later tonight Dorothy will be singing at the Rusty Anchor. And if I stay up late enough I may catch that new book,
Vixen, Story of a Woman.