And by me I mean middle-aged, single, pathetic, but not completely unendearable (I just made up that word) and funny (what?). Finding a man would only be a minor side-plot, a running joke, like the conveyor belt of secretaries on Murphy Brown. I don’t mean that as a anti-man thing, but that’s what it’s like, going both ways. I think it’s a combination of we’re all the left-overs and we just don’t have the energy for dating we once had. If the sitcom were being made today I’d make finding a job the major focus. That could provide plenty of laugh-until-you-cry material.
A giant bulb decoration. It’s terrifying, right? Try batting that around, cats.