An Ode to Netflix

Oh Netflix. I love you. Let me count the ways. Where else can I spend my evenings binge watching Gilmore Girls and teaching the Geekling about Eva Gardner and Honey I Shrunk the Kids. What else makes it socially acceptable for me to spend my evening watching Harriet the Spy and eating embarrassing amounts of popcorn? Now I don’t have to say “I hate American bars. And clubs. And techno music”. Staying in to watch Pippi Long Stocking doesn’t cause everyone to look at me like I have two heads (or gravity defying pig tails). Your streaming service allows me to believe that one day I could move my family to a tiny house and not have to give up my addiction to the silver screen. Your weird offbeat movies make me feel included in the artsy scene without paying the crazy art theater prices. You make me laugh, you make me cry, and you always know what I like. Like Raj and Siri, you just get me Netflix.

Your streaming service is missing a few classics, like The Godfather, and Casablanca and The Way We Were and all versions of A Star is Born. Sure you can get the real classics on DVD/Blu-Ray, but come on guys. Streaming is the way of the future. How is a girl supposed to get her Streisand and Garland fix?! You play with my heart, you give and take, and still I love you. Our relationship is complicated, yet I’ll never leave you Netflix.

Since you spend so much time toying with my heart, I would like to put in a formal request: Boy Meets World.

Seriously, guys. It’s time.

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