Watching the People's Choice Awards

Here I sit, comfortable in the fact that my power cord is plugged into my Mac.  Nothing much is on TV, so I'm watching the People's Choice Awards with Monica.  I'm out of touch.

I remember when Saturday Night Live was really funny.  Remember Eddie Murphy in Mr. Robinson's Neighborhood?  Kill da landlord!  Remember the fun we had watching that?  I watch SNL occasionally, and I only get parts of it.  I am out of touch.  You have to be up on current events and pop-culture to understand.

I remember when I could watch an awards show and sing every lyric with every artist.  If I didn't like the artist, I still knew what they sang.  I don't know many of these "artists."  I'm out of touch.  You have to listen to more than one station to understand.

I remember when I could dress to fit in.  We didn't have enough money to own all of the latest fashions, but Sears Surplus was a blessing, and my parents always made sure that we had enough to work with.  I wore the purple eye shadow, pegged my jeans, owned some leg warmers, and did some radical 80's stuff.  Now, if it weren't for t-shirts and jeans, I wouldn't know what to wear.  I'm out of touch.  You have to read fashion magazines to understand.

I am out of touch.  I don't understand.  I'm OK with that.  It's just that I get slapped in the face with it when I watch something like the People's Choice Awards.  I'm a grandma at the age of 39, I hate to shop, and I get into a rut when it comes to the TV and radio that I like.  I'm OK with all that.  You have to be me to understand.