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The Royal Pains Series Finale Was Exactly That: a Royal Pain

Hank's royal pain of an ending

The Royal Pains series finale was exactly that, and it left me with just one thing to say: put your hands down again, patriots.

 

I take it all back. I saluted USA too soon. All hands on hips.

 

“At ease” is the official command for ceasing military gestures, sure, but the last minute of the last episode of Royal Pains, un-ease bordering on dis-ease was my dominant feeling. The unofficial gesture I made in reaction only needed one finger, not four.

 

SMH. I must have been an idiot, hailing a television network as a leader in diversity in its depictions of my fellow Americans: Single people.

 

Nope, USA Network, the writers, the producers, whoever, just could not resist a trip to Cliché Island.

 

They did what Hollywood always does: substitute societal expectations for creativity. Instead of depicting Dr. Hank Lawson as the happy man on his own he proclaimed himself to be just a week earlier, they caved in to cultural biases, or just gave up trying, and settled for a biased, boring finale.

 

Which means they made Hank settle, too.  They tied up his story by tying him down. Who saw that coming? To be honest, not me.

USA, I Salute You

fireworks USA flag

USA, I salute you.

 

My fellow single Americans, join me.

 

Salute Royal Pains.

 

Because they let Hank be Hank. And Hank is single.

What’s it like to be Single At THIS Age? Hint: it doesn’t suck

Single at this age

What’s it like to be single at this age?

 

Even for someone who writes and reads and thinks about single* life in America, this is a tough question to answer.

 

Not because of my age, or yours. Because, regardless of age, the question I actually end up answering is, what is it like not to be married?

 

And that, my friends, drives me BAT. SHIT. CRAZY.

Millie and Me

Today is Millie’s birthday. She’s two years old. Yesterday was my birthday. Ha! As if I was going to tell how old I am. Besides, nobody is interested my birthday. Not even me.

 

Millie gets top billing today and every day. She’s a dog, after all, and dogs are better than people. They are easier to love, and they always love you back. At least eight or 10 humans didn’t love me back. But that’s a story for another day.

 

This is a dog tale. Like all canine chronicles, it is a story of a hero’s journey. But remember, it’s the journey that counts, not the destination.

 

Some dogs are born heroes. Lassie. Rin Tin Tin.

 

Some dogs have heroics thrust upon them. Lady. Tramp.

 

Some dogs have heroism buried deep within. Marley. Millie.

 

Marley?

Breast Cancer Awareness Month: Needles & Nurses & Cells, Oh My

breast cancer awareness

 

 

 

I recall my first mammogram. Not fondly. The amount of pain shocked me. So did the doctor.

 

This was pre-Women’s Imaging Center, when I was living in Chicago. Pre-sister’s cancer diagnosis, too. My doctor was a solo practitioner radiologist so everybody stepped into her office to get their results.

 

 

After a poker-faced review of my images right in front of me, the doctor slapped both hands on her desk and demanded, “So, what do you want to know?

 

 

“You want to know if you have cancer.
   Well, you don’t.”

 

Hold on, Nellie. I DID NOT WANT TO KNOW IF I HAD CANCER. “Do I have cancer?” was not on my list of questions at all. I didn’t have a list of questions. The sole purpose for my masochistic visit was that I recently turned 40.

Good Friendship vs. Bad Romance: Guess Who Wins?

Good Friend Bad Romance

  Good Friendship vs. Bad Romance: Guess Who Wins?     Why are women outraged, devastated and horrified when a friend does us wrong, but manage to limit our emotions to hurt and confused when the love of our life turns out to be a cheating-ass liar?     You won’t forgive her in a million years but him? You forget his sins in weeks, or days or sometimes mere minutes.     You know the story—the one where the friends and lovers hook up. Imagine it’s your story: they are YOUR friends and YOUR lovers.  Want to bet you give your bestie the boot and give him a chance to explain?     Perhaps you have a less messy tale of treachery, like a friend who was vocal and loud about your lousy...

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