WOE IS ME
When I first started blogging, actually in my very first post, I confessed that “Now that I’ve jumped on, blogging is officially a bandwagon! Fortunately, if my history is any indication (joined the Seinfeld and Spice Girl Power craze in 1997, shortly before the end) that also means it’s almost over.”
Once again, my late term trend following has ended a good thing.
Two weekends ago, the USA network ran an eight-hour marathon of ‘Monk.’ After hour four I was hooked. I taped as many episodes as I could find and then I put in a request for Season 1 on Netflix.
But now the show is about to be retooled. Straight-talking Sharona (and I suppose her son) are out and the producers are looking for “a world-weary but attractive thirtysomething widow who works as a bartender.”
Shark, meet jump.
Monk doesn’t drink, he’s definitely not going to be chilling in a bar and picking up bartenders.
He needs someone to hand him wipes and separate his food.
He needs Sharona. Mmpph.