Monday, March 11, 2013

Dear Justin Timberlake

There are things you should know about granny and other sexy old broads. True, you are used to quick Twitter messages, but since I am Twitter-less, I urge you to keep reading to the end where, I guarantee, before the year is over, I will get to the point.

In the past when I shouted, “Is there a doctor in the house?” in a crowded venue, it was usually to introduce him to my niece. Since she does incredibly well on her own and in fact, has a restraining order against me for mentioning her, I choose now to shout that at an actual doctor’s office where they frequently keep me waiting an hour and half beyond my actual scheduled appointment.

Though my days are fully occupied searching for keys and plucking the hairs on my face, to others sitting in a doctor’s office this might seem wasteful. In fact; it is most enjoyable and is the only reality show I watch. The waiting areas are usually mobbed. My number (as in take a number and sit down, lady!) is 48, so there is lots of time to observe.

I heard one woman mumble as she reviewed her multitude of medical forms to fill out in order to be seen by a specialist, “Left nostril, heart valve, ear, buttock, pinkie toe on right foot, pinkie toe on left foot;” then she frustratingly stood up and burst out in song; “All of me; why can't they take all of me?”

We sympathized and hummed along.

Another fellow in the room had been waiting so long that he called the receptionist from his cell phone while in that very room wanting to speak directly to the Urologist.

She asked if he could hold and he shouted “if I could hold I would not be asking for the Urologist, you*%!%^”. He had a point. We applauded then washed his mouth out with a Gray Goose liquid, and ours as well.

Go figure; when doctors were on strike, I stayed healthy. I had so much leisure time once that I went to a palmist for fun. She said I would meet a tall, dark stranger and...he would remove my gallbladder. I went to a palmist for a second opinion. She removed my ring.

Now I visit actual healers. My primary doctor is a "Recommendologist." Whenever I see him for any reason, he says I have a virus which is Latin for I don't know what the hell you have. Then he recommends a specialist, usually one not covered by my insurance.

So my dear Justin Timberlake, you are now considered one of the most talented people in the universe-I simply loved you on Saturday Night Live and your week guesting with Jimmy Fallon, Wowie!
By now you must know how much I appreciate you. I may in fact, be your oldest groupie.

About that movie you did-I happen to like the title and the idea. i even agree with the premise of friends with benefits as a way of life.

Frankly, there is no need for me to marry again as I am granny whose been around the block enough times that they ought name a street after me.

Justin, as much as I admire you, we do have our creative differences in movie making.

I know what yours is, and I am totally all for that philosophy in my stage of life, though in addition, my film would tack on an added scene that would feature a romantic rendezvous with a man.

This man would include me on his health insurance plan. This for me is the actual definition of …

"Friends with Benefits"

See you at the Oscars, Emmy's, Grammy's and any other place they give out awards. You are simply awesome!

P.S. Do you happen to have a single ole granddaddy on Medicare?

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