Why My Third Husband Will Be A Dog (40 page)

If you get my drift.

Oh. My. God.

Blood seemed to rush all over my body, from everywhere at once, to everywhere at once, setting every inch of me tingling. My puppy Little Tony, who had been sleeping in the crook of my arm, looked up at me in amazement.

I asked him, “Don’t you wish you were a middle-aged woman?”

So let me say a word or two about hot flashes, because the fact is, I’m a big fan.

To back up a minute, it’s amazing that I have yet to discuss hot flashes, because usually, they’re my second or third conversational subject, after hair products and carbohydrates.

I know I’m not alone in this, at least among women. Cross the threshold of any ladies’ room, and all anybody is talking about is their hair, their kids, their weight, and their hot flashes.

Don’t go cranky on me.

I’m not being sexist or saying that women can’t discuss
politics, the economy, or the stock market, but that isn’t the stuff we’re talking about in the ladies’ room. A ladies’ room is a girl headquarters, where everybody reapplies eyeliner that doesn’t need reapplying, squeezes back into pantyhose, and continues conversations into the stalls. Nobody cares enough about the stock market to take it into the stalls.

Kids, yes.

Hot flashes, definitely.

Most women I know complain about “flashing,” as the doctors call it, and I used to, before I met Little Tony and began my really annoying crusade of positivity. So this is how I look at hot flashes now:

They’re a godsend.

Observe.

I don’t know about you, but I was cold for approximately the first forty years of my life. In winter, I’d freeze my butt off, and in summer, I hated air-conditioning. I used to fight with everybody over the thermostat, and I never won. I was always the coldest person in the room, and so were all my women friends.

No longer.

Hot flashes are God’s way of compensating women for all the years they spent being cold.

Now, we will be toasty no matter what the weather, and all we have to do is get old. It doesn’t even take any effort or cost anything. All we have to do is keep breathing, and all of us, our gender entire, will be wrapped up in a permanent burrito of thermal pleasure.

It’s like we’ll all have our own Snuggie fleece blanket, as Seen On TV, only we don’t have to walk around looking like monks.

And don’t forget the other advantage of flashing, namely the aforementioned tingling.

Let’s talk turkey.

There are times in life when we have to settle for second best. For example, we would love to have a hamburger, but we settle for the veggie burger. Or we would love to have a gorgeous Chanel purse, but we settle for the look-alike.

So you know where this is going.

Think of a hot flash that way, if you follow.

If it makes you tingle all over, sets your blood pounding, raises your body temperature, and usually happens in bed, wouldn’t you settle for a hot flash?

If it walks like a duck and talks like a duck, why split hairs?

Plus, you can be alone and get a hot flash. You don’t have to marry and divorce anyone. Or worse, share your closet space.

I think it’s all part of God’s divine plan, sending us hot flashes at a time in our lives when the real deal tends to be in shorter supply. Everybody’s sex life diminishes as they get older, and kids and carbohydrates don’t help.

Neither does the stock market.

So I say, look forward to your next hot flash. If you’re lucky, you can have five or six a night.

There’s nothing wrong with multiples.

I read that most adults spend three to five hours a day watching TV, but I don’t believe it. Know why?

The only shows on TV are Paid Programming.

The other day I was trying to find something to watch, and everywhere I looked, it was all Paid Programming, one hour after the next.

What gives? When did this start? And, more importantly, how can we kill it?

I never noticed these Paid Programming shows before. I thought only the commercials were paid programming, but no. I tuned in to one to see what it was, and it was a guy selling special brushes. On another, a guy sold special floor cleaners. On a third, a guy sold special weight-loss herbs. I remained unsold. If they’re so special, why aren’t they on Unpaid Programming?

Plus, the programming was so bad, they should pay us to watch it. Then they could call it Pay Us Programming.

Not to mention the fact that we pay for all these extra cable channels to show us the Paid Programming. Uh, I think I just figured out why they call it that—because somebody paid the cable company to show it. In that case, since the cable company got paid by the advertiser and by us, they should change the name. To Sucker Programming.

Who watches Paid Programming, anyway? It’s a mystery. Are there really people in the world who would sit down and watch an hour-long commercial? If there are, they should show themselves, and we should all gather around them and be their friend, in shifts.

Of course, there are no commercial interruptions in Paid Programming, because it’s all commercial. It makes for a weird viewing experience. I think they should interrupt Paid Programming every ten minutes with seven minutes of a sitcom like
Friends
or
Seinfeld.
Then we could fast-forward through the sitcom to get to the commercial.

Fun!

But the mystery of Paid Programming pales in comparison with the other shows on the TV listings. I was skimming the guide and came across something on Channel 28 called Educational Programming (EDUC). I tuned in, but the screen was blank. I kept waiting for someone to educate me, or failing that, a guy to sell me something special, but no, nothing.

This doesn’t bode well for our educational system.

It’s like No TV Left Behind.

I kept spinning the dial, as we used to say, and came upon an equally ambiguous listing on Channel 98, called Local Original Programming (LO). I tuned in, and it was showing a man and a woman talking to each other, neither of whom seemed very interested in the conversation.

In other words, my second marriage.

I would rename Channel 98 The Strike Two Channel (LOSER). Or maybe The What-Were-You-Thinking? Channel (GET OUT WHILE YOU CAN).

Either way, you couldn’t pay me enough to watch that programming.

I kept looking for something else to watch, as I had three
hours of mandatory viewing left to fill, and I came across Channel 22, which purported to be Government Access Programming (GA).

Wrong.

It had nothing to do with government, but was Paid Programming In Disguise, namely, a series of real estate ads. (“Rear Fenced Yard!” “Six Years Young!” “Family-Friendly Spaces!”). Likewise, The Information Channel (INFO) had nothing to do with information, but was more Paid Programming In Disguise, albeit for non-profit organizations. (“Monthly Sunday Breakfast!” “Annual Spaghetti Dinner!” “Winter Dance!”) I watched for ten minutes and came to the realization that Paid Programming for non-profits is just like Paid Programming for profits, except with worse music.

Things picked up when I got to Channel 166, The Fear Channel (FEAR). It was showing something called FearNet On Demand, so I clicked and got a menu of scary choices such as Blood & Guts, From Beyond, and Interrogation Room. I looked for The Economy, but they didn’t have it.

That’s probably on The Apocalypse Channel (PUT ALL YOUR MONEY IN A MATTRESS).

Or The Armageddon Channel (NOW GRAB THAT MATTRESS AND RUN FOR THE HILLS).

Or The End-Of-Life-As-We-Know-It Channel (AND REMEMBER, THE BEST THINGS IN LIFE ARE FREE).

Anyway I was too scared to click on any of the Fear categories, but I applaud the idea of a Fear Channel. Why shouldn’t there be channels devoted to the major emotions? I’d like to see a Love Channel (CHOCOLATE CAKE). And a Hate Channel (LIVER WITH ONIONS).

And a Lust Channel. (GEORGE CLOONEY).

(WITH CHOCOLATE CAKE).

I never use any moisturizer on my face at night, but when I went to visit daughter Francesca in New York, she and her roommate smeared cream all over their faces before they went to bed.