Sometimes I feel like a has-been who never was.
The reviewers tear me apart. I bleed. I'm a favorite target. They go along for six months looking at movies, praying for rain, and then a new Sandra Dee movie comes out, and their eyes open, and they lick their lips. Before they've ever seen it.
In December 1988, my mother died of lung cancer. I died too. I couldn't function.
I used to sign vouchers and sign-out sheets with 'Alexandra Dee.'
