OK, Let's Take a Vote.
Is it Alan? Monica? Edward? Lila? Who's on
DRUGS here for suggesting that AJ be Ned's best man? Maybe Ned for even
considering it, favor to Lila or not? Maybe the writers for taking us down this
road in the first place? The idea is just totally offensive. A best man should
be someone who is your "second," your "pal," the one who has
your back, not the one who has A KNIFE in your back. I'm shaking my head and
wishing it weren't so. My son, Joe, is also up to his ears in wedding planning
and it always amazes me how these events inevitably capsize into other people's
wants. Why do weddings end up being some mishmash composite of what other
members of the family want, ending up as an event nothing like what the bride
and groom want?
My first wedding was great fun. It was 1978 and my family were as poor as little church mice. As the only daughter, I was the one shot my mother had at wedding preps and we set about Operation Wedding Decoration about a week before the blessed event (yes, a week). My intended had just been stationed on Guam and was flying in for the wedding, hooking up, then flying out a few days later. I'd be following in a few months. My mother made my dress in record time (we'd known about the wedding, but had to wait for a "good" payday to get the material, etc) and we found some great white eyelet on sale at Hancock Fabrics. I think all of the supplies ran about $8. Payless was having a sale and I got some nice white sandals for $6. My aunt knew someone who would make the cake. I was 16 and prom was in two months, so I was lucky that all three of my bridesmaids were not only going, but had already purchased their dresses (whooo hooo!). My mother called up the church where I'd been baptized and they agreed to let me have the wedding there. My fiancee's father was a mail order minister and would do the honors. The only thing missing were flowers. It was April and we'd had a late frost, so whacking daffodils like we'd planned wasn't possible. Mom called the florist and tried to work a deal, to no avail. Still over our budget. It was the DAY before the wedding and we were wracking our brains trying to figure out what to do about flowers. Then a light came on in my mother's eyes, one I have learned to fear before and since. She had an idea. The next day, I walked down the aisle with beautiful bundles of silk flowers tied to every other pew and down the banisters of the church. There was a giant basket of magnificent flowers on the altar and each of my bridesmaids carried colorful bouquets with ribbons from my mother's sewing stash cascading down the front. It was glorious. Everyone commented on how lovely the flowers were and what life they brought to the festivities. The next day, Mom and I piled all the flowers back into her little 1970's Gremlin and put them back on the graves and the dead folks didn't miss them at all. True story. THAT's how we got a nice wedding for about $50 when you count the cost of the pigs-in-a-blankets, punch and relish trays.
My second wedding was actually a renewal of vows at 10 years (same guy) and we had a nice wedding in Big Bear, California with the president of our motorcycle club (read "gang") officiating. It was an intimate friends and family deal and was very nice until my husband got drunk at Sizzler, yacked up his dinner and went back to the hotel passed out like the goat that he was.
My third wedding was after the Goat and I had divorced after 15 years and foolishly remarried a year and a half later. It was a little Chapel o' Love deal in Lancaster, California and we were married by a little woman with emerald eye shadow who said in the vows, "I consummate myself to thee" rather than "consecrate myself to thee." That made me crack up, which pissed off the Goat. I wore black because the white hadn't fared us so well the first two times. That was in March of 1994 and two short years later, he left me for a she-goat he met while on a military trip.
That freed me up for wedding #4, which was a hoot. To make a long story short, I married my best friend in the whole world, Eric Rasbold. We had been buddies for over a year and when he was sent to Saudi Arabia for his Gulf War tour of two months, we missed one another desperately. E-mail was our best friend, as was the daily phone call that the AF would allow. We were so bummed at being apart, that we began to wonder what the hell we would do if he was actually stationed someplace and we couldn't see each other, hang out, be buds, get tipsy and laugh our asses off doing movie quotes for each other. We decided to get married because we didn't want to NOT be able to do that. We'd date other people and life would be good. We couldn't actually *be* together, right? Because I was 15 years older than he was and that was just, well, goofy. So when we walked down the aisle of the Candlelight Wedding Chapel in Reno, we had never kissed (OK, there was one drunken time a year before, but we didn't count that) and had not been intimate beyond a loving hug with pelvises far apart. We were cracking up all through the ceremony because it was "us" doing this and I fully believed until the last paper was filed and the last "I do" was said, that he'd back out. He thought the same thing about me, but we're both pretty stubborn. We gambled and won, both at the casinos and the chapel. Five days later, in a clumsy but intimate moment, we both confessed that we had no interest in seeing other people and that we'd married the other because we were secretly in love with them. I can tell you, that was one of the most intense times in marital history. Three years later, we have two children and are still married and madly in love. We never looked back and the age has never been an issue (OK, so his mom had a moment, but we are good friends now). So here is my picture of the score on THAT one:
What the hell is wrong with Tony and this
horse of incredible altitude he insists on sitting? So Lucas went
trick-or-treating dressed as Roy/a mobster. Tony has to act like a jerk about it
all night. I suppose he'd like it better if his kid dressed up like a kidnapper,
right? I kept waiting for Roy to say, "Look, I WAS a criminal, but you ARE
an ass and present wins over past any day. Besides, when was Bobbie lucky enough
for Roy to dress as snappy as Lucas looked? That was about the most contrived
and stupid scene ever.
I loved it when the clouds parted, the angels sang and Maxie's heart leaped into her throat (BJ's heart, I should say) when Lucky showed up at her party. The sad part is that as soon as I saw that scene, I remembered how that situation felt, exactly.
When Mikey walked out in that goofy looking cracker jack sailor suit I was chanting, "please let it be his costume please let it be his costume please let it be his costume." I was afraid they were actually going to dress that kid like that for GP's. Again, at the party and in regard to Tony, I had to snigger when it was obvious that the mobsters were the ones behaving themselves and the upstanding doctor citizens were the ones being jerks. Hmmmm.
Oooooh. Stalker feet. Of course, it's Mike. That's all for now. Got a couple of bones to pick tomorrow.
What the hell kind of...
bizarro, Dr No, sadistic kid torture was THAT at the Halloween party? I can't believe that Bobbie would have insensitivity to send Lucas around trick-or-treating and let him collect hoards of candy that he can't even eat! What is WRONG with these writers? Did they write the script then suddenly say, "Sh!t!! He's diabetic! The AMA will be all over us! What can we do? Hey, let's have a Kodak moment and let him give the duffle bag of the best candy in the world to ROY! Awwww, they'll love it! Go with it!" Shouldn't they have had a party with NO trick-or-treating and a ton of sugar free snacks? Between BS like this and mommy's long parade of "uncle's" through his life, this kid is going to be getting his sleep in on the therapist's couch for YEARS to come. I L-O-V-E-D it when "the mobster family" arrived with the whole crew: Sonny in his basic black crime lord ensemble, Carly in the cat suit (how appropriate - smile) and even Johnny-the-bodyguard. One big happy mob family walking in at the perfect moment: right when Tony was eyeballs deep in his Roy=Bad whinefest. I can tell you that I'd much rather party with the mobsters, past and present, who were at the party than the upstanding (with no woman Tony for about 3 years, Tony is probably very upstanding) kidnapper neuro-surgeons who were there badmouthing the guests). Like I said in my mini-post, the whole thing of Lucas dressing like Roy (ANYway - eyes rolling) was so contrived and clumsy that it should have been on a CBS or NBC soap.
Poor, poor Maxi. The energy around those scenes where she's pining for Lucky REALLY brought that time in my life back in a big way and I thought those times were lost forever in the forty-year-old muddle of old woman memory. Before I knew it, the shy, adoring looks, the taking the cake to him with him wrapped around his girlfriend, the joy over a single glance . . . It was all right there. Kudos to Robyn Richards for jumping right into her newly expanded role. Now if we could just keep Felicia's face from breaking with the overly expansive, rictus expressions. I have given a great deal of thought to Felicia and have decided that the best way she could serve the interest of the show is to die. Not Kristina Wagner, of course, Felicia. Think of how many story lines it could open! She could literally die accidentally at Laura's hands and we KNOW how great Laura is in jail. Everyone in town would think that Laura *just*might* have done it on purpose or at least not have tried as hard as she could to save her. We, the intrepid viewer, would have seen Laura warring with herself, then going whole hog to save Felicia but alas! To no avail. Luke would be especially embittered and Scott would be forced to stay on the GH side indefinitely to defend her. As they work on the case, the grow closer, yadda, yadda, yadda. Maxie would be engulfed in grief and guilt over giving her mom the business for abandoning her and Georgie, but the gurrrrrls would end up in Mac's custody where they belong and he would midwife them through the grieving process as he deals with his own issues around Felicia's death. He would very much want to believe in Laura's innocence, but because of a conversation they had earlier (don't push me - and I feel your hand prints all over my back - I haven't written the conversation yet, but it's a doosie), he has pause to wonder about the possibility of her guilt. At the end of the inquisition, she is, of course, found innocent of any wrongdoing, given a medal for trying to save Felicia and life in Port Charles goes on, sans Flea. Think of it as "Frontline" for Soaps.
Second only to the mobster Halloween costume in fake, insulting, stupid plot devices has to be the stalker shoes. I can't believe they had to nerve to make it a duh-duh-DAAAAAHH melodramatic moment that it was MIKE wearing the salvation army shoes and stalking Sonny. No folks, we aren't smart enough to figure THAT one out! You reeeeeallly got us.
See you next week!
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