From the Diary of Helen, Jane Jetson's Friend

Inspired by a recent viewing of the Dude Planet episode of The Jetsons on MeTV.

Tuesday, April 25, 2063

"Now that's what I call racy dialogue."

Jane called on the visi-phone this morning as I was lying on the beach, working on my tan. She was whining about housework again. I do love Jane, but she needs to turn the record over (or someone other futuristic metaphor, I just can't be bothered to think of one right now.)  She never stops moaning about the Suzy Homemaker trap she's in. I know George doesn't make much in his push-button job at Spacely Sprockets, but he could spring for a pied-a-terre in Paris for his little wifey to get away now and then. And don't they have a robot maid? 

Anyway, Jane asked me to go with her to the Beta Bar Ranch on some Dude Planet for a week to relax and recuperate. I told her sure, "Harry is commuting from Tahiti to New York every day and it's wearing me out," I lied. But actually, Harry is the one driving himself to an early grave and I couldn't care less. As long as he keeps me in martinis and muu-muus here in Tahiti, I'm happy. But it is getting a bit monotonous, staring into the same gorgeous sunset every day. Maybe this Dude planet will have some new dudes to brighten up my attitude. 

Wed. April 26, 2063

Jane invites me to the Dude Planet.
Anything to get away from Harry.

George and the kids saw us off as we rocketed away from Earth to the Beta III planet. I left a note for Harry that I'd be gone for a while, but he probably didn't even see it. I left it on the dining room table, but he will no doubt rush through the house say, "Bye, honey" not wait for an answer, and then hop on the rocket shuttle to Gotham. 

After checking in, we went on a stagecoach ride to Jupiter, joined in the cookout, then listened to the singing Space Cowboy. Jane misses her family already, but I am ready to check out the action at the hotel bar. Check you later, diary.

Thurs. April 27, 2063

You will not believe what happened last night. I met the most marvelous space cowboy just like in that old, old movie The Women. Jane is still moping around like a kitten whose lost her mother. I don't get her. When the husband's away, as they say. Why can't she loosen up and have some fun? She broke down and called George. For a few minutes, their eyes were bugging out at each other as if they were both on crack. All they could say was their names, moonily. Now that's what I call racy dialogue. George then put on a lampshade and suddenly announced he was actually having a party. Can you believe it? I tried to lighten up the mood with a robot dancer, but Jane was having none of it. She's really bringing me down.

Fri. April 28, 2063

Well, I'll tell you this much, diary. I ain't never going to any more Dude Planets with that Jane Jetson. The dame is nuts. She cooks up the crazy idea her husband--deadbeat George--was fooling around with a slinky siren. So naturally she packs up her bags and we head home. Never mind that I'm all set up for a romantic rendezvous with the hot cowpoke I met the other night.

On the space cab ride from the rocketport, she actually slugged the driver while in a fit of imagined rage over George. Not only is she insanely and unjustifiably jealous, she's actually dangerous. I quietly slipped away when she got home and caught the last rocket to Tahiti. Harry did not even notice I had been gone. Ah me, at least Jane and George love each other and I guess I do envy her that. It will make me feel a tad regretful as I sip my mai-tai, and stare at yet another gorgeous sunset.