Thursday, October 3, 2013

Female Prisons, Netflix addiction and Matt Lauer's Shame

So, lately I have been feeding my addiction for Netflix.  It began innocently enough with the series "Orange is the New Black" and culminated with me forcing to keep my eyes open at midnight on a Wednesday so that I could watch the series finale of Breaking Bad.  I've given myself over to the dark side, fo' shizzle, you know, in between bike rides with my kids and unloading the dishwasher.

I had fallen behind with Breaking Bad, which I trumpeted many posts ago (see: and I recently relapsed.  Props to me - I LOVE congratulating myself when I recognize a trend, well before it becomes into public focus, and then I am simultaneously irritated when my discovery becomes mainstream.  I LOVE to be all "I spotted this five years ago", but, I HATE it when something I discovered early on, is regurgitated back to me via the Today Show, resplendent with it's witty banter and fresh flower arrangements.  Let me put it to you this way, when Breaking Bad is featured as an audience participation game show out on The Plaza, I feel like the fifth seal has been broken.  And while we are on the subject, don't you think that Matt Lauer cries himself to sleep every night, while in the fetal position, in his Brooks Brothers pin striped pajamas?  I know he makes a TON of money, but if I had to do some of the stupid shit they have him endure each morning, at some point I would question my place in the World. Maybe he laughs all the way to the bank each Friday (no longer an applicable analogy in today's direct deposit-obsessed society) but I can be willing to BET that he has some dim moments watching the replays of that luge run with Al Roker.

ANYWAY, let's start with Orange is the New Black.  Obsessed.  Let's face it.  I am NOT PG.  I am R rated kinda gal, and I enjoy gritty, shiv-infested, girl on girl prison drama.  It is funny, because I started watching it and it just RESONATED with me, and I kept TRYING to enjoy my day-to-day life, but I kept making excuses to go down in the basement where our WII (Netflix streaming, y'all)  is kept, where I would feign laundry tasks, as I sat upright on the edge of my seat, to watch my

WHY?  Why am I so ENAMORED with this series that features a former debutante from New York, engaged to a stereotypical Jewish American Prince, (played flawlessly by Jason Biggs, I might add - his parents in it are even BETTER, his mom refers to their housekeeper as "the girl" who "left soup" at one point) who began a tawdry lesbian relationship after college with a Heroin Distributor (my favorite character - Laura Prepon of "That Seventies Show") who, then, in turn, names HER to the Feds ten years later, which lands the protagonist, played by Taylor Schilling, belly up in a women's correctional facility, because she carried a bag of drug money ONCE, out of an airport, ten years ago.  Exhale.

My girl crush.  On a lesbian.  Totally normal for a housewife of three.  Deep in my addiction, yo'!

Okay, that SEEMS like a lot of absorb, but that is NOTHING compared to the drama (pronounced drAMa, as in I "AM") that ensues once she is INSIDE the prison.  On the day of intake, the managing guard who introduces her to prison life says, "Women fight with gossip and rumors."  No truer thing has ever been spoken.  And what damage we can do, when we set our minds to it, right ladies?  Can I get an AMEN?  Who needs whittled-down, pointy toothbrush handles and flat-head screwdrivers to inflict pain, when we can just use the good ol' fashioned weapon of communication to annihilate each other?

Anyway, I kept asking myself, "Why can't I stay away from this?" and "What is it about this series that I IDENTIFY with?"  And then it hit me.  All female...drama...fighting...OH MY GAWD, I LIVE in a women's prison, albeit low security, but STILL!

I immediately began fantasizing about my three girls wearing orange jumpsuits that I fully intend to monogram with "Upper Arlington Correctional Facility" for Halloween.  Where?  Where can I get my hands of some plastic shackles?  I know it might inhibit little Eves' mobility, but they need to be AUTHENTIC.  I would make sure they didn't shower for days so their hair was all greasy, or they could wear do rags....shivs in their back pockets...meth mind was a flurry of activity.  Let me just say this...I cannot WAIT for the Halloween parade at school! 

No more princess costumes for you, beaacchheess.  You're in MY world now.
Awww, Elaine, the best dog I've ever owned.  I need to show Scarlett that pic.

Fast forward. I am at my aesthetician's (say this with a lisp, please, I always do) Amy Linville, who does my brows, (which is NOT easy because at one point in high school, I started shaving between them because it seemed less labor intensive than using tweezers), and we are discussing Netflix addiction and I explain to her that I am mid-episode of OITNB.  Well, we start pontificating about how difficult that is for a person with a Netflix addiction and then, of course, I start using analogies like "leaving half a glass of wine on the bar of a restaurant" and the like, and then I escalate by saying "like leaving half a line of coke on the mirror" and then there is this uncomfortable silence.  Whoops.  There I go, again.

You see, a fault of mine, I mean, ONE of a series of faults of mine is that I like to PRETEND that I have done drugs that I have not done.  Crystal meth is a another such conversation halter.  Truly, (see:  I have never done or have even been around cocaine in my life (now, that's not true.  I was around people in college on it, I just found out later,) because of the Len Bias incident, but I simply LOVE to use jargon associated with heavy drug abuse like "dirty riggs" and "cooking spoon" and "chasing the high" (see: and so forth, in casual conversation.  If I can work any of these into a conversation at a school function, all the better.

Most of my knowledge was obtained through my social worker experiences - as one, not assigned to one, and the rest of it comes from T.V. and the world wide web.  I could have been a WRITER for Breaking Bad.  I've been doing personal research on meth labs all my adult life.  (see:

So, let me be clear, that I can say with COMPLETE confidence that I have never done cocaine, and no one will ever be able to say that I was party to it, because it never happened, and there are no grainy videos of me smoking SALVIA, and no topless selfies, (probably because that became a trend after I nursed three babies, but back in the day, given the technology...)  I AM CLEAN, I tell you, CLEAN. There may be, however, some Eastern High School Talent show footage which I will happily cop to, once it is dug up by Matt Lauer for our "top of the hour" interview one day, because NO ONE and I mean NO ONE can cover FAME's "Out Here On My Own" like I can.

Ok,  You don't even know WHAT I found when I googled to find this pic.  So you know.  FYI - NOT my kitchen counter.  Reminded me that I need to get some baking soda, though.  My refrigerator smells.  Guidance nugget:  it can be used for THAT too.

Alright, back to Netflix.  I read this great article in GQ a few months back on how Netflix is changing the face of premium television.  It is also changing the way we VIEW television, in that it is producing and releasing entire SEASONS of series, SANS commercials, and in the process it has produced addicts, such as myself that BINGE on it's programming instead of vacuuming the Living Room.  They have decided to COOK the cocaine in a spoon and then we are to INJECT it, instead of SNORTING it because it is a much better HIGH for a fraction of the cost.  And this is all well and good until the SERIES IS OVER AND YOU HAVE TO WALK UPSTAIRS AND WAIT AND WAIT for them to HURRY UP AND MAKE THE NEXT SEASON SO YOU CAN CLEAN YOUR RIGS OFF AND START LYING YOUR ASS OFF ABOUT WHERE YOU HAVE BEEN AND WHAT YOU HAVE BEEN DOING WITH YOUR TIME WHEN YOUR KIDS ARE AT SCHOOL.

This is a pictorial metaphor for what it feels like when a series concludes on Netflix, ya' dig?

Listen, I have several pieces of advice for you, today.  First, don't do drugs and if you do, don't video or photograph yourself (or BE captured on film by someone) doing drugs. (Rihanna, why haven't you been arrested like the rest of America would be, or at least had your Instagram account suspended?). 

Secondly, contact Amy Linville to do your brows, 'cause she's a wizard, and she is really smart and really fun to talk with, and very reasonable.  She will also let you use her ipad to watch Netflix while you wait for your hurr to be did.  Contact me for info.

Love that I found this wizard photo.  This is NOT Amy.  Clearly, Eves inherited my brow problem.

Thirdly, and this has got to be pretty obvious at this point - DO NOT be afraid to force your children to dress up as something highly inappropriate for Halloween.  It is what parental dreams are made of.  Like I always tell MY children before I am about to embarrass them in front of their peers, "It's PAYBACK time, muthafuckas.  We all just DOIN' time up in heeeaarrr in 'dis piece."

Oh, and get Netflix and watch Orange is the New Black, because all of these references are infinitely funnier if you do.  PEACE TO DA' MIDDLE EAST, YO'!

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