Baby Boomers,be afraid, be very afraid...and don't watch tv.

Fellow Baby Boomers be afraid, be very afraid. Madison Avenue is after us and they're getting too close for comfort. I'm trying as hard as I can to be strong and stay away from the tv, even though my little flat screen is oh so cute. Admitedly however, I'm weak, with little will power when it comes to "regularly scheduled programming". Sunday morning I tried as hard as humanly possible to turn my back on George Stephanopolis and his giant hair. I walked through my den head down putting one foot carefullly in front of the other. Coffee was the only thing on my mind. "I love coffee, I can't wait for my morning coffee....I love coffee, I can't wait"....oh who was I kidding? I grabbed the seven clickers it takes to turn on the tv. Crap, which stupid piece of plastic gets me a station? I had all seven in my hand ready to throw at the wall when it occured to me that would be counter-productive. I had a slight fever and mild delirium when George's face and hair finally appeared.

If only the morning was filled with my usual yelling and swearing at the screen but alas, it wasn't. The commercials are what freaked me out. They may as well have called my name.
"Gail, are you irritable because you're constipated"? "No, well sometimes, maybe, should I be"?
"Gail, are you sleepless? Do you toss and turn and rip the covers to shreds"? "Ok, yes, yes, a thousand times yes! What do I need....tell me, tell me"!
"Gail, would you like to flatten your flabby abs from pregnancy"? Oh God, they can see my abs....I sucked in my stomach and spit out my coffee.
"Gail, are you having trouble reading the menu and sorry you went out to dinner"? AH HA! At last....I got them! "I can read the menu", I sobbed.

I no longer cared about George, his big hair, or his political opinions. I hated him and his lousy advertisers . I defiantly vowed to go out to dinner because I might be constipated, exhausted, and flabby but I COULD STILL READ THE MENU!