January 1-March 20, 2001

March 20th


I'm still cracking up over this cardboard dress Liz wore for a week straight.  Love classic beauty, but it looked like she was naked and someone used a couple of black diamond shapes to censor her.  I'm really getting tired of the chick fights between these two and 

these two.  Enough already!  This story isn't even fun any more.

Love the Ice Princess story and how all of a sudden it is somehow imbibed with the energy to zombie out Lurky and make him a Universal Soldier killing machine.  WHAT a great fight!  It's been a long time since a soap had a real fight that didn't look like three-year-old girls having a tiff.  POW, POW, POW, Jason wasn't taking any crap off of him any more!  What I don't get is why Liz instantly turned on Jason.  I didn't see that transition played out effectively or why Jason went running to tell on Lucky to Sonny.  (??!!)  What that about.  *sniff*sniff*  "Lucky tried to kill me, Uncle Sonny!"

Flea having a tantrum with the computer and sulking over the picture today did nothing for me.  Now that the dust has settled and the affair with Luke is off of the forbidden list, I'm not sure she's going to like the fact that no matter who is acting CEO, Laura will always have the corner penthouse suite office at Luke, Inc.  

Darius is dead.  Thank god.  No more disguises for Luke?  Por Favor?

Speaking of Luke:  I can hold it in my fist, it's raw, uncut, priceless and belongs to me?  Why is the question of circumcision suddenly on my mind?

Well, congratulations go out to Bobbie for realizing what a nudge she was being about Melissa.  Regardless of whether Melissa is up to no good, Bobbie was still out of line ordering her to find another hospital in another town.  I saw the gears creaking Melissa's head when she learned that Tony had been married to Bobbie.  Good stuff coming!

March 14th, 2001, midnight

How It Shoulda Happened 

So Audrey is sitting at Kelly’s and sees Bobbie come in.  Bobbie immediately thinks, “Sh!t, I ducked out of work early and there sits my boss.  Rotten luck.  Don’t make eye contact and back out the door.  Damn.  She’s spotted me."  Audrey says, “Bobbie, isn’t this your one day of the month to work at the hospital?  What are you doing here?”  Bobbie says, “Yes, but I felt so sad that Roy was gone that I had to leave early.”  Audrey replies, “Are you retarded?  What planet are you on that you can just leave work because your boyfriend isn’t home yet?”  Bobbie, “But I didn’t realize that his scheming ex-girlfriend was the new surgical nurse!  That made me have a poo-poo caa-caa night.”  Audrey:  “Since our OTHER HEAD surgical nurse can’t seem to even make it through one shift, it seemed like a good idea to hire another one.  Nurse Bedford’s hiring was announced at our last staff meeting, which you did not condescend to attend.  I’d worry more about her stealing your job than your man.  Oh, and she filed a complaint about you badgering her unnecessarily at the nurses’ desk while she was trying to do her job and also for discussing your objections to her hiring with the Chief of Staff in front of patients, other employees, God and everyone.”  (sips her coffee daintily)  Bobbie:  “That little…”  Audrey:  “Tsk tsk tsk, I’d watch what you say, Bobbie.  There are ears everywhere.”  Bobbie:  “Well, thank goodness I don’t have to work again for another month.”  Audrey:  “If I were you, I’d try and curb the attitude before then, young lady…and next time, consider pulling a full shift or you will find yourself behind this counter on a permanent basis.” 

Sonny is pacing the living room when Johnny opens the door and Scotty pushes past him, “Don’t bother announcing me, Lurch, Gomez knows who I am.”  Sonny:  “What do you want, Sparky, make it fast, cause I got business to attend to.”  (sniffs and does that jerky thing with his head)  Scott:  “I’ll take all the time I need, buddy, cause the only business you have is signing over your shares of Deception to me.”  Sonny:  “And what good is 1% of Deception going to you, Bald-One?  Cause that’s all the shares I got.”  Scott:  “Don’t get smart, with me, Don Corinthos.  You know I mean your wife’s shares as well.  That bitch is out of Deception yesterday.”  Sonny:  “I don’t see her here, do you?  You’ll have to take that up with her.”  Scott:  “Bull crap, everybody knows who pulls the strings in this family.  You sell your half of the company to me and we can pretend none of this happened.  You and the missus go back to playing humpty dumpty in the back of the limo and…”  Sonny:  “…and you and Laura go back to playing spin the husband until she decides which one she wants back?”  Scott (adjusts his tie, ala Rodney Dangerfield) “Why I oughta…”  Sonny:  “Do it, I’m beggin’ ya.  You’ll be making a career decision, cause I run every bar from here to the Mississippi, including the one that holds your license to practice.  C’mon, Scooter, right here.”  (points to his chin)  Scott turns to walk away, then figures, ‘screw it’ and clocks him one.  Sonny flies across the room, hits the wall and crumples into a heap on the floor.  Johnny, Francis, Zander, Jason and Benny jump on Scott like white on rice and pummel him until they can force what’s left of him into an empty Tylenol gel capsule.  They then mail it to Laura with a note that says, “Eat me.”  Later, Sonny tells Carly about it and they laugh while she kisses a boo boo and makes it all better.  After feeling each other up for a while, they adjourn to the bedroom.  He picks her up and tosses her onto the bed, preparing to jump her bones, but as she hits the bed, it detonates the bomb connected to the springs and they both blow into little confetti bits, thus solving how to write Carly off the show and ease the suffering Sonny would have felt at losing yet another wife.  [Don’t worry.  Michael is fine.  See, he was with Leticia, who is like his real mother to him anyway, and the bomb barely grazed their door because of the intense sound-proofing on the Corinthos’ bedroom.  Leticia married Reginald and they raise Michael as their own.]  At the Deception offices, a newly reconstituted, but badly bruised Scott and Laura (still holding a syringe of Cassadine rejuvenation juice) kiss.  She pulls away as he grimaces at her embrace.  “You went to the penthouse to defend me and got the bejesus beaten out of you.  Scott, I love you.”  Scott:  “I love you too, but damn, love hurts!”  

“Just a second,” Alexis yells as she comes out of the shower, towel on her head, tying her robe.  She opens the door to Ned, holding a bouquet of red roses and a bottle of champagne.  “Let me guess. You left your vase here and you came to pick it up?” she asks wryly.  “Only if your roses are going in it,” he smiles.  She returns his smile and welcomes him in.  “What are we celebrating?” she asks suspiciously.  “I hope the falling away of pretenses and posturing and the return to the loving foundation of our relationship.  I also bought this.”  He presents her with a wrapped gift.  Excited, she rips off the paper to reveal the audio cassettes, books and workbooks of Dr Phil McGraw’s “Relationship Rescue.”  She looks scared and he reassures her, “It’s just to get us back to where we were.  I don’t want to push you into having to prove yourself to me with a commitment.  I just want to be with you.”  She melts, “And I don’t want to make you feel insignificant to my work.  I’ve been using it as a barrier to distance us from one another and that was wrong.”  They watch the tapes together, she moves Zander into Sonny’s and they vow to always put one another first no matter what.   

Elizabeth looks at Jason with tears in her eyes and fights to hold up the cardboard screen that looks like an Audrey Hepburn dress in front of her wonderbra bulging boobies.  Jason fights to not stare at her cleavage and the ample bosoms on either side of the black screen, just round enough to make his palms itch.  “But I can’t keep lying to Lucky,” she wails.  Jason:  “You don’t have to.  Just tell him the truth.”  Elizabeth:  (lips trembling) “But I don’t KNOW what the truth is!  I just know that I want to wear something besides this black cardboard screen that I can’t seem to hold up and I want to feel your arms around me 24/7, which is why I keep showing up here!”  Jason:  “Like this?”  He puts his arms around her and she nuzzles in.  “NO!” she shrieks.  “It’s wrong.”  Jason:  “Does it feel wrong?”  Elizabeth (weeping openly):  “NO!  That’s just the problem.  It feels so right!  But I love Lucky!”  Jason:  “Do you?  Or do you love Lucky because you think you should?   Does Lucky make you feel this?”  He edges his lips ever closer to hers, a breath at a time.  Her lips part (she’s cleaned off some of the gloss by now) and he closes his mouth over hers.  They kiss for a good long time, then pull away.  “Damn,”  she says.  “Damn,”  he says.  She picks up her coat and purse and begins to hurry out.  “Elizabeth!”  he calls after her. “Elizabeth, I’m sorry!”  “What?”  she says.  “I’m sorry,” he says.  “I should never have done that.  You don’t have to go.” “What are you talking about?”  she says, looking both hurried and confused.  “I have to go break up with Lucky NOW!!”


March 6th, 2001, 1:00pm

As I said, I've been going through old columns and I found this bit from a column I wrote October 4, 1999.  I thought it was good for a chuckle:

"Hated that they are playing the Roy DiLucca thing the same way that every soap opera dead person returns on the scene.  We have to have to obligatory couple of weeks of skulking around in the background, spying on our loved ones and checking out the lay of the land before we announce ourselves.  There are a couple of exceptions, namely Katherine's triumphant stride into the courtroom at Stefan's trial (for murdering her, ha!) and Miranda crashing Jax's wedding.  Believe me, if I ever come back from the dead, I'm tooling right up to my husband's door, letting myself in, making short work of whatever unworthy floozie he's been consoling himself with and getting on with life. Do not pass go, do not collect two hundred bucks.  Roy should march right into Kelly's, order some chili and tell ole Boardroom Bobbie that it ain't half as hot as she is.  Then he should go to Luke's club, pound down nine or ten White Russians, do the Pee Wee Herman dance on the bar counter and sing "Folsom Prison Blues" at the top of his lungs.  But NOOOO!  He has to hide in the shadows and scope out Bobbie and Jerry for a ridiculous amount of time before we get past the bread to the meat of the sandwich."

And this for introspection:

This column is dated:  March 29, 1999 - It's funny how the more things change, the more they stay the same and DAMN I wish I hadn't asked them to give Flea something to do!!


I have received many letters in the last couple of weeks from people who are, justifiably so, upset with head writer, Bob Guza, for his take on GH.  He has been found guilty of rewriting history that we, the viewers, watched unfold with our own eyes.  He’s accused of character assassination by cramming all our women into convenient cubby holes that only a misogynist could love.  Women who were strong, assertive and independent were, over time, reduced to being either screaming shrews, scheming money grabbers, vapid airheads, absentees or floozies (I’m including the paid variety in here).  The only one to escape the Guza mold was Liz and she was attacked, so that the only one who defied the classifications was overpowered, subdued and rendered emotionally dependent on Lucky for quite some time.  Women who are lawyers, assistant district attorneys, cardio-surgeons and head surgical nurses are reduced to helpless, vulnerable, spineless creatures, mooning after men who, through a different person’s creative filter, they would not give the time of day.  Bobbie is using Lucas to punish Tony for sleeping with Carly and is a total sleeze around Jerry (shrew/ floozy) .  Felicia has lost most of her adventurous spark and has been reduced to living vicariously through her writing, not to mention that (I’m sorry) she just looks like a ditz (airhead).  Tammy is wise and knowing but has the hooker stigma behind her (floozy).  Monica has no chutzpah any more and does little but whine about what everyone else is doing (shrew).  Lila is so fed up with her family that she emerges only periodically to chastise everyone then motor back into her room (absentee).  Emily is anger personified and spends much of her on air time with that sonic screech of hers sirening through the mansion (shrew).  Alexis is in a seemingly loveless relationship with Ned and has the single goal of getting “her share” of the Cassadine fortune (money grabber/floozy).  Helena is self-serving to the nines and skulks in the background, waving the hand of death whenever it is needed and trying to seduce the good looking guys (money grabber/floozy).   Laura is using Stefan to buffer her loss of Luke while she looks helplessly at the mess her life has become (floozy/ditz).  Dara is biting her lip way too much lately as she makes puppy-dog-eyes at Justus’ back and plays with Taggart’s emotions (floozy/ditz).  Audrey, for all intents and purposes, does not exist any more, her appearances being even more rare than Lila’s and serving the same purpose (come out, chastise Liz, go back to her room - absentee).  V is mooning after Ned or Jax, depending on the day (floozy/ditz).  Carly is out for Carly and can’t seem to get a fix on any other loyalty (money grabber/floozy).  Amy’s only appearance on the show seems to be in the opening collage (absentee).  Katherine unabashedly chases Nikolas for sex (floozy/former money grabber).   

Men are categorized as dark, brooding creatures who are living in a tortured world created by the women who did them wrong.  They immerse themselves in business and/or revenge to distract themselves from their perpetual funk. Lucky doesn’t necessarily fit the mold, but in some ways, it seems like he is immersing himself in his love for Liz as a way to overcome what he sees as the darkness of his family’s past.  It a means of purging himself of the demons he sees in his family’s closet.  I’m not saying that he doesn’t love her, because it is obvious that he does…but that love also serves some strong purposes for him beyond the norm.  We also know that his greatest fear is that he will turn into his father and have to court the demons that Luke lives with on a daily basis, hence, a darkness and broodiness.  Nikolas is still coming to terms with his mother having abandoned him until *she* needed *him* to save his sister’s life.  His young mind would forever cast back on all the times that he had needed her and she had not been there.  Sonny is afraid to love again because all of the women he has loved have died.  Luke is immersed in his anger and vengeance.  Jason has lost his one love, Robin, because he was forced to choose between her and the package of Michael and Carly, then she (from his perception) betrayed him by telling AJ the truth about Michael’s parentage.  Alan is lost from all the pain his family has caused him, as well as having endured Monica’s cancer and subsequent mastectomy, the many affairs riddled through their marriage on both sides and his descent into substance abuse.  Edward is old, closed and bitter toward everything and everybody except Lila, to the point that the people he should be loving are mere tools to an end result.  Stefan is dark and brooding personified, so no explanation needed.  Mac has had a dumbening set in over the years to the point that he can barely function.  His sense of adventure is gone and he has been left a rather stupid and slow-witted cop behind a desk.  Case in point:  he had to wait until civilians suggested that MAYBE someone other than Moreno MIGHT have started the warehouse fire and then this rather cartoonish lightbulb flickered on over his head and he was off and running.  The first thing a real cop would have done was to consider all the angles and take Moreno as a possible suspect while considering others.  In reality, he does little but fret about Felicia, lecture Taggart and check in on Sonny and Jason from time to time.

Taggert, dark and brooding.  Tony, dark and brooding and embittered toward Bobbie, Carly, Jason and anyone else he bumps into that day.  Ned is immersed in business and can barely even bring himself to sing any more.  AJ is mired in this bizarre competition he has with Jason and can see nothing but that.  Jax is mourning Brenda.  Jerry is just plain sinister and his Aussie accent sounds fake, probably because Julian Stone (Jerry) is British and not Australian.  Mike is so lonely he can barely form words and spends his life scouring for any bread crumbs Sonny might throw him.  Justus is dealing with the humiliation of having a life that makes Granny Mae roll in her grave like a rotisserie.  He’s trying to wiggle his way out of the mob and into a respectable public service job, knowing that he will most likely die at the hands of Moreno for his efforts. 

While it is easy to moan and grieve for our characters as we know them and want them to behave, let’s first take a fully objective look at the situation.  I think that we all need to take a deep breath, sit down together with nice hot cups of tea (perhaps liberally laced with some alcoholic beverage to grease the gears) and yack this out. 

In all fairness, let’s consider the fact is that Guza doesn’t sit down in his office and peck all this out on his little PC all by himself.  He is the head of a writing team consisting of about ten people including a “Co-Head Writer”, five “Associate Head Writers” and three people who are labeled as simply “Writers”.  These people get together and brainstorm the fates of our TV friends and families.  Guza gets to take the credit because he is the Grand Poobah Head Writer and his name is on the credit line when the words roll at the end of the show.  He has his hands on the business end of the double-edged sword and we are the ones holding the hilt.  It is not known how many, if any, of these ten influential people are actually GH lovers or even GH Give-A-Damners beyond the paycheck. We don’t know how many of them *know* the characters or really care about their development.  There is invariably a distinct change of flavor to a show when a new head writer takes over.  That is because theirs is the filter through which the writing team will create, which is another reason why they get to meet the sword.  Every individual head writer to come to GH will see each of our characters in a different light than the previous head writer did or than we ourselves do.  This is going to result in a different feel and direction for each new regime.  It stands to reason that we all have a different take on who a favorite or hated character really is and how they would really react in any given circumstance.  This is never more obvious than on the message boards for any of the soap pages.  For instance, some are convinced AJ is a total jerk for not understanding that Michael needs to be with Jason. Others feel that AJ is just trying to connect with the son that he was denied for so long and that Jason was wrong for keeping Michael from his biological father.  Same characters, different takes.  If one of us, the greatest fans GH has ever had, were to snag the position of Head Writer and could have complete creative control over what happens in PC, we would be hated by a good percentage of the fans out there as well.  Why?  Because our impressions would not always suit the masses, even though we feel in our hearts that we are correct.  (Yes, I hear you guys and I’m getting to that, so give me a second)  So let’s take for granted that what we are seeing in PC at this time is what Bob Guza & Co see when they think of their take on all of our characters.  They feel that what they are writing is appropriate for the people they think they know.  They also have a few Daytime Emmy Awards and Soap Opera Digest Awards to further convince themselves that they are doing just fine.  Seeing PC through the Bob Guza filter, this is how the characters would behave.  It is also safe to say that a writer’s impression of the characters would be colored to a HUGE degree on their own life experiences and how they look at life in general.  

The assessments of the characters that were given above are all too simple and brief.  Behind the one liners I gave of “where they are now in their lives”, we have served as witnesses to the life events that brought each character to their current position.  Perhaps any of us would fit in their current pair of shoes had we experienced the life events that the characters did.  As I said before, we each have our own, individual impressions of how our characters would behave.  Laura, for me, is a good example.   

An insightful reader reminded me that when Nikolas and Stefan first came to town to help Lesley Lu, Helena was on her deathbed and not a threat to anyone.  Stefan informed her of this fact almost immediately.  She could have told Luke the truth then and been done with the whole thing rather than dragging the revelations out over years, each time assuring Luke that there were no more secrets, destroying her credibility more and more with each revelation.  This really set me to thinking about Laura and how I perceive her character.  She had been hiding the truth about what happened on the island from Luke supposedly since her return to PC, out of fear that Helena would hurt the people she loves.  We watched Laura for all these years, totally unaware that she was actually hiding such a tortured secret.  We are supposed to believe that a woman who values family and loyalty over all else abandoned her son and deserted a man that she loved in Luke’s absence, regardless of the circumstances.  From the flashbacks that we have seen, Stefan and Laura were very much in love and he provided her with the only happiness she found while on the island.  Could she really leave her child and turn her back on a man she had loved (in addition to Luke, yes, I know that Luke is her world, blah, blah, blah, but that would NOT make her feelings for Stefan just disappear, nor would it qualm her conscience over dumping him so abruptly), yet remain stoic enough to never show her sadness in any way?  Is Laura really that cold?  I don’t buy it for a second.  Granted, we were not there when she birthed Lucky, which would no doubt bring up immense feelings about her first son.  But we have born witness to a large part of her life since leaving the island and I don’t think that such an emotional factor would have slipped past us.  Not to mention the obvious:  the Laura that I know would not do that.  Laura would have been truthful to Luke no matter what because she believed Luke could do ANYTHING.  Back in the day, when Laura returned to PC, Luke was a superman who had just been elected mayor of Port Charles, not some smarmy character lurking in the shadows like he has been lately.  After their reunion, she would have told him what was going on.  If nothing else, NO ONE knows Laura as well as Luke and he would have KNOWN something was going on.  There would have been a big, on the island, adventure to rescue Laura’s baby, she would have made peace with Stefan (or he would have sworn vengeance on Luke for a little spice) and they would have whisked away into the sunset.  I’m also wondering why it is such a travesty that Laura had a child with Stavros OR Stefan while during the exact same period of time (when each thought the other was dead) LUKE had a passionate affair with Holly Sutton, who, if I am remembering correctly, became pregnant with his child, later to miscarry after she thought he was dead in an avalanche!  Isn’t this a bit of the pot calling the kettle black?             

When we had the prime time aired episode in which Laura faked her death, it was presented that Laura left town to keep Stefan at bay.  He had threatened to expose their affair to Luke and she left to protect herself from that revelation.  She told Luke she had to leave to protect her mother and Luke never called her on the lie when she returned to Port Charles and the truth about Nikolas was revealed.  She left town to save her own butt and to keep Nikolas’ fortune intact. 

In my opinion, the way that Luke and Laura are behaving betrays who they are (or were) and what their relationship is about.  While I understand the little psychoses that are being played out, there was always an underlying love and tolerance between the two of them.  I feel that they are both acting totally out of character and have been for a long, long time.  

Further evidence of this is the fact that Laura is totally disregarding the way Stefan has behaved since his arrival in Port Charles (although there appears, by the spoilers, to be an acknowledgement of this on the way).  He blackmailed her, closed down GH, married Bobbie out of spite, shot Katherine (because he thought she was Luke!) and tried to frame Luke for the murder and screwed with Lucky via that stupid video game.  I don’t care HOW much fun I had romping in the jungle with a guy or how many babies we had and passed off as my husband’s, that grocery list of nastiness would be enough to stop me from going to the op-er-a (pretentiousness intentional) with him and dancing for him like a nutball on the docks.  I’m not anti-Laura, as I hope I have made clear in the past.  I feel like I understand a little about Laura and how she works, but my point is, this is not MY Laura.  The Laura I know is strong, fearless, intelligent and discriminating.  I’m not saying that Stefan could not have eventually won Laura’s love after a very interesting game of cat and mouse (with little telling who was the cat and who was the mouse).  It would not be her having a relationship with Stefan by default because Luke bailed.  

BUT I will hasten to admit that the above is MY impression of Laura through my filter.  That is how I perceive her.  Some of you will take issue with my thoughts on her and her actions because of how YOU see her.  The same is true for all the characters on GH.  Bob Guza is leading a writing team that is showing us THEIR impressions and some of us are upset that they do not match OUR impressions.  BUT, writers do listen to the viewers.  This I believe.  The viewers are the ones who turn their TVs off when they have had enough.  When the TVs go off, the commercials that generate a big ole ton of money for the network are not seen.  Ratings go down, as do the sales for the company who are paying the big ole ton of money to have their wares hocked on daytime TV.  When the ad sales are going down, so are, in the trickle effect, the salaries of the writers (or jobs are lost).  There is an impact that is felt when you say that you aren’t happy with how things are happening and stop watching.  Network people read their mail, scan the message boards and process the feedback.  They KNOW that we may know more about backgrounds and histories on the show than they do and pay attention to that.  They monitor how far they can push us before enough is enough.  And again, I don’t think that they intentionally try to screw up the show.  But when they do, we are very vocal about it because these characters mean something to us and we are very protective of them. 

Unfortunately, by the time this information hits the mark, what’s done is often done.  We can’t go back and make Tony un-kidnap Michael or push Katherine back up on that parapet (and did anyone ever hear the word ‘parapet’ before Katherine fell off of one?).  We can’t make Nikolas not exist and have Luke and Laura back together.  ONE soap tried that.  In a ground breaking episode, Dallas had the famous shower scene that erased a LONG series of writing mistakes and rather than heave a *whew* and get back on track again, the American public lost their minds and screamed about what a cop out it was.  I don’t expect that to happen again unless the Cassadines convert Mikos’ weather machine into a time machine and haul us all back to a happier time.  But remember what I have been saying: this stuff has ALWAYS happened.  Soap Operaland is one of the few places where a woman who had a hysterectomy ten years before can have a change of life baby today.  There have always been story lines where it seems the writers have lost their minds.  Remember David Grey and the stupid Sword of Malkuth?  How about Monica’s mock trial of Pierce Dorman while she had him doped up on sodium pentathol?  Dumb story lines and little respect for history is the soup of the day in this business.  Some stories that undoubtedly sound hot on paper, fizzle on screen.  Unfortunately, the writers are sometimes forced into playing out what they have put into motion, despite the ludicrousness of it.  

March 6th, 2001, 11:30am

I was going through some of my old columns recently and realized that some might be worthy of a reprint.  I'm fairly uninspired regarding the show right now and there are things going on that I am reserving judgment about until they play out further (read: Deception party).  You'll hear from me later on the current goings on, once I get my thoughts in order about them.  Meanwhile, I hope you enjoy some "Best of Katrina."  To set the stage, this was when Sonny was breaking up everything in his penthouse and Carly was trying to help him, Luke and Laura were on the Cassadine Island looking for Lucky and AJ was humiliating the Q's all over town.  Let's take a musical stroll down memory lane. . .


All dedication radio, all night long.  This week we are going to be opening the phone lines to you looooovely people to call in dedications to your faaaaaavorite Port Charles residents. Settle back in your comfy chair. Pretend I sound like Barry White.  Swirl your most faaaaaavorite cold beverage and put your feet up, Baby.  Just release your mind from the worries of the day.  Ain’t nothin’ you can do to fix those nasty problems in the ten minutes it takes to read this column no how.  That’s why you’re screwin’ off on the internet instead of getting’ done what you need to do, right?  So give the ol’ grey cells a much needed rest and sail along with me… to the happenin’ sounds of K-E-O-S. 

Going out to AJ Quartermaine, our town’s loveable Otis Campbell, from your good friend across town, Sonny Corinthos.  Cheers, AJ…Sonny says, “Have another one on me, Pal.  Have another one on me.”  We’ve got George Thoroughgood and the Destroyers singin’ “I Drink Alone.”  “Yeah, my whole family’s done give up on me, and it makes me feel oh so bad.  The only one who will hang out with me is my dear Old Grandad [ed note: see, it’s not about Edward, Old Grandad is a whiskey] and we drink alone…yeah, with nobody else.”  

This one is from Bobbie to Roy.  A little song from 1966 by Johnny Rivers… “Secret Agent Man, Secret Agent Man. They've given you a number. And taken 'way your name.”  Roy, this little girls sounds like she’s mad about you.  She says to meet her in the General Hospital Board Room and dress casual, Baby.  Sounds like you’ve got a business meeting to negotiate, my man.” 

Nikolas, I hope you’re listening, ‘cause Elizabeth’s got a special number all picked out for you by The Angels and it goes a little something like this:  “My boyfriend’s back and you’re gonna be in trouble, hey yeah, hey now, my boyfriend’s back.”  Pack it in, Nik, cause Lizzie’s man is back in town. 

Stefan called this song in to himself.  It’s Ray Peterson singing, “Tell Laura I Love Her.”  This guy must have been drinking with Mr. Quartermaine and his Grandad ‘cause I coulda sworn he called it, “Tell Lasha I love her.”  Let’s spin it for him anyway.  “Tell Laura I love her…Tell Laura I neeeeed her…Tell Laura not to cry, my love for her will never dieeeee."” You're breakin’ my heart, Stef. 

Oh so many have done it, but none like the youngest.  Here’s one by Donny Osmond going out to Juan and Emily.  “And they called it Puppy Looooooove.” 

Monica loves her some Alan, but when it comes to music, she knows how to make a man cry.  She wants me to play Harry Chapin singin’ “Cat’s In the Cradle” all night long and says she’s got her man tied up to a chair in a hotel room forcing him to listen to it until he pukes.  Gotta tell you, sweet lady, that was a hefty sum you offered me to do it, but I just can’t do it more than once.  All I got to say, Alan is, “Your boy is just like you, Dad…your boy is just like you.” 

Now this one just gotta make me laugh.  Sweet, sweet Lila gave me a call and if she hadn’t talked so nice to me, I never woulda hunted through ALL my vinyl to find just the song she wanted.  This is for you Edward.  “You're a mean one, Mister Grinch. You really are a heel, You're as cuddly as a cactus, you're as charming as an eel, Mister Grinch, You're a bad banana with a greasy black peel! You're a monster, Mister Grinch, Your heart's an empty hole, Your brain is full of spiders, you've got garlic in your soul, Mister Grinch, I wouldn't touch you with a thirty-nine-and-a-half foot pole!” 

Now we take a walk on the country side of things.  Felicia wants me to tell you what Lee Greenwood says.  Mac, “It’s just a ring on your finger when there’s time on your hands.” 

Funny thing is, Mac also phoned in a request for Felicia, but I couldn’t find the song he wanted me to play.  He didn’t know who recorded it, but it was called, “Your Junk’s In The Yard You Lying, Cheating Barbie Wannabe, Get Out of My House, I’m Keeping Your Kids and You Can Pucker Up and Kiss All My Cheeks Good-bye.”  Sorry, Mac.  Just can’t find it anywhere. 

From Roy to Bobbie.  He says there are two songs he can’t get out of his head when he’s with you.  One is “How Deep Is Your Love” by the Bee Gees…mmmmm…too smooth…and the other is “Mama’s Got A Squeeze Box.”  Now what’s that boy thinkin’ about sayin’ something like that? 

Carly’s ringing Sonny’s bell and wants to tell him, “I’m sorry….So sorry…Please accept my apology….” And Connie Francis says it best. 

Going out to Chloe, Jax, Alexis and Ned from one another.  That’s right, folks, all four called this in to dedicate to the other three.  Chloe and Jax wanted to hear it by the Beatles and Alexis and Ned from Joe Cocker, but no matter who sings it, they “Get By With a Little Help From Their Friends.”  (Poetic License #4650210) 

Dipping even further back into the past, Alan must’ve gotten out of the motel room because he wants to send out this 1958 song by The Coasters to his main lady and favorite captor, Monica.  He’s says, “Honey, Yakety Yak…Don’t talk back.” 

Peaches and Herb, Baby.  Peaches and Herb.  They’re singing to Luke and Laura and this dedication comes from Gramma Lesley, the baby sitter.  “Reunited and it feels so good…” 

Stefan is calling up, crying again.  Said the Tell Lasha I Love Her song tore him up and now he wants to send one out to someone named Helena.  My lava light is on the console, folks and I’m inhaling the…ambiance…as I listen to Pink Floyd.  “Mama’s gonna keep you right here under her wing…she won’t let you fly, but she might let you sing.  Mama’s gonna keep baby, cozy and warm….oooooooh….aaaaaah…of course mama’s gonna help build the wall….mama did it need to be so high?” 

And while we’re on the same album, Good Lord, I’ve missed spinning records, friends and it’s great be knee deep in vinyl.  To Carly from Sonny…sounds like things aren’t so good in paradise.  “Run to the bedroom, in the suitcase on the left you’ll find my favorite axe…don’t look so frightened, this is just a passing phase, one of my bad days.”  Whooo-eeee.  Girlfriend, get the Prozac. 

Laura, who is reunited (and it feels so good) is sending one out to Felicia and we’re going into the album called TV’s Greatest Hits for this one.  “Come and knock on our door….we’ve been waiting for you….three’s company toooo….bbzzzzpppppptttttt!”  Ooops, ol’ Katrina’s done put the needle down on the wrong song.  Sorry ‘bout dat, Laura.  Here’s the song you were looking for and it’s a Sesame Street hit.  “One of these things is not like the other.  One of these things just doesn’t belong.  Can you tell which thing is not like the other…?” 

Signing off for now…this is the Katrina with all dedications, all night long.  Sleep tight, cherubs.  Don’t let the bed bugs bite.” 


February 25th, 2001, 2:30pm

Note:  These are Katrina's rantings and fantasies and there is no hope in hell that anything this cool is really going to happen on the show, so don't get all excited thinking these are hot spoilers or anything.



I am in receipt of your letter dated 1 February 2001 requesting advice on the forthcoming and in progress make over.  I applaud your wisdom in soliciting the input from a veteran viewer of the soap rather attempting this formidable task on your own.  I am willing to assist in any way needed, beginning with the suggestions you requested.  I recommend their implementation immediately.  I have also included root scenarios from which you may grow the stories to bring my recommendations into full manifestation.  These are in no particular order. 

1).  Immediately consult with Soap Net exec’s and use your powers of persuasion to resurrect “Another World” from the soap bone yard.  They are making money hand over fist and can well afford to do this.  Tell them to take carte blanche on the hiring of an executive team to hold down the helm.  My interest is purely in casting.  Since so many of our cast has a history with the soap, I feel they may be interested in returning home if need be.  I suggest you move quickly on this because I need to relocate some people, like, yesterday.  Well.  Don’t just sit there reading.  GET ON IT.  Pick up the cell phone and call Marney or Monty or whatever his name is and pitch it.  He’s going to tell you that the OLTL people have already contacted him to pitch the idea and you are to offer your full support to its implementation.  I’ll wait.   

2).  Jill, no one care about your little buddies that you intend to haul over from every other soap on which you’ve ever worked.  If you will check the OLTL side of EOS, you will find that the list of possible candidates that you might be thinking of leaching to GH is so repugnant that we have sent them to the new and improved Another World that we hope to debut on Soap Net.  Do not, repeat DO NOT attempt to access any of these people.  The only exception is Catherine Hickland (soon to be ex-Lindsay) who would fit into the GH cast nicely.  Everyone else needs to stay, STAY…good dogs. You have your buddies who are already in the cast on GH and we don’t need any more of the FOJ brigade coming in and screwing up our show.  In fact, you are banned from bringing on board even one more new face until we get the current ones whipped into shape and some of the old ones back where they belong. 

3).  You’re doing quite well with the dismissals so far (did any of you ever get around to explaining to Tava that she really is off the show?  She seems to think otherwise) and I want to give you some other ideas as well.  Hannah, Juan and Chloe were a bit extraneous and that is fine that they are released to bigger and better things.  Can we please clear up the music box mystery before Chloe leaves, though?  Additionally, get with Ingo’s people and let’s give this girl a proper send off.  He needs to burst onto the scene for a Friday last second and Monday full show and tell Chloe that Stefan not only faked the letter to her, but kidnapped him and held him captive under the influence of a Cassadine Cocktail.  He now has to go save Jerry from self-created disasters X, Y & Z and desperately wants Chloe to go with him as his wife.  Brenda was a false lead created by Stefan and he has purged himself of her ghost.  Grab your braids, child, and lets beat feet, but not before doing something horrible to Stefan.  Be creative. 

4).  Hannah leaves to join clown school or something.  Turn Lisa Vultaggio on to the AW idea.   Tava and Michael also might want to look into it.  In fact, if Jacob Young isn't talking business with Days, get him into AW ASAP.  Rebecca Herbst is another viable candidate.  With the reduction of those salaries from the fiscal cookie jar, you should be able to accommodate the following changes nicely.

5).  Roy leaves with Luke to go find the Ice Princess and a buddy adventure unseen since the Hope-Crosby Road To… films ensues.  Flea begs to go, but with Roy in tow, Luke makes it clear that he doesn’t really need her help.  She realizes that she is extraneous to him and cries on Mac’s shoulder until he realizes that he really does want to be with her, despite her attraction to Luke.  They reunite into one big happy family and she at last frees herself from her Luke addiction, vowing if she ever looks for happiness again, it won’t be any further than her own back yard.  Mac resigns as police commissioner and they go into the PI biz to feed their sense of adventure and stock the Scorpio fridge.  An alternate route is to reopen The Outback, the last site of fun in Port Charles since Lucy left.  Which brings us to… 

6).  Lucy, Kevin, now.   No need to say more.

7).  UNFORTUNATELY, Flea is shocked to learn that an Aztec heirloom has been stolen from her family vault and she must go locate it to complete the inscription on a crypt wall that contains the antidote for a poison administered to Grammy Maria by Faison!  Mac agrees to look after the girls while she locates the missing piece, which she does.  She administers the antidote to Maria, who lives, but Flea is kidnapped (yes, again) by Faison and killed in a yacht explosion.  Kristina Wagner = Another World 

8).  While watching a documentary on Great Britain on PBS, Lucky hears someone say, “God save the queen,” which activates the next segment of his Helena mind bending.  He goes to take a photo shoot of Liz, since she can’t use any other photographer, and replaces the camera with one of the old box cameras that has a boxing glove on the end of an accordion extension.  He starts talking to Liz about warm summer beaches, hot summer nights and soft summer rain.  When her lips pout out, full, glossy and seductively, he hits the button and KAPOW! the glove clocks her right in the face.  Her nose is driven backward into her brain and she dies instantly.  Jason walks in just as it happens and beats Lucky into unrecognizable crumbs and feeds him to the fish in the Port Charles harbor.  Tenderly, he cradles Liz in his arms, then, in an otherworldly departure from GH norm, he buries her in the Pet Semetery at Wyndemere.  Since Liz was a deceptive, snotty, two-faced goody-two-shoes before she died, she comes back smart, sweet (for real this time) and hard working.  She has, unfortunately, completely lost her drawing talent and must rely on real furniture to decorate her home.  She and Jason fall in love and she becomes a happy, fearless and stalwart Mob Mol who is referred to often in her off-screen capacity.  Although she and Jason are utterly committed to one another, she receives word that her sister, Sarah, needs help raising her 2.5 children after a nasty bout of peritonitis in Europe.  She leaves to go be Nanny and nurse poor Sarah back to health.

9).  Without the money being foisted onto Rebecca Herbst, who will be quite comfortable on Soap Net’s “Another World,” you are able to bring back Tristan Rogers to the role of Robert Scorpio.  He has been begging to come back for the past few years and if you play your cards right, he might even pay YOU to let him work on GH.  Funds should also be allocated for the revival of Tony’s character.  We know Brad Maule is amiable to full time work again and you should use Tony to bolster the hospital/medical see on General Hospital.  As it is now, you might just as well rename the show, “Kelly’s” or “The Docks.”  Did you know that for many years, we didn’t even know that the staff had houses back in the day?  We thought they lived in the staff lounge because they were always at work.  Let’s put the Hospital back in General Hospital, shall we?  Sorry, but that means a lot more work for Monica, Alan, Bobbie, Amy, Tony and anyone else who might be lurking around.  I’m betting we can even haul out Audrey for a whirl.   We will definitely have to let Tammy run Kelly’s like she is supposed to and hire a few more off-screen waitresses.  I’d suggest the one at the Triple L diner who has the hots for Lucky. 

10).  Faison back.  Stat.  Also, we’ll be needing Anna Devane to pop back and help Robert Scorpio run the police department.   

11).  Scott and Laura are a go; Luke and Laura are a no.  Too much water under that bridge, baby.  The moment is lost.  Luke and Flea are also a no, so it looks like Luke is the eccentric bachelor on the block.  I would not be opposed to a Luke and Tammy pairing.  Mike has to meet someone new.  OK, you can bring ONE friend on for Mike to have a love interest.   

12)  Lesley Webber, front and center.  She’s already sort of on the show.  She can keep the same schedule, but for the love of God, let’s get a story about HER rather than having her babysit LuLu and rub Laura’s hair while she cries.  I want her to mix it up with Monica BAD.  The current fan base largely is oblivious to the dynamics between these two actresses and characters and could enjoy a reintroduction immensely.  Let them feel the familiarity of their antagonism for one another.  If you research this, you will find that when Lesley first came back to the show as a catatonic, their past meowishness was touched on every so briefly when Monica stopped by to visit her for a moment at Laura’s.  In fact, one of the first intelligible things Lesley said was a Monica slam.  CAPITALIZE!  Get these two to mix it up at the hospital.  Let Lesley get her medical license reinstated.  Hell, if Alan can still be Chief of Staff and Tony the Felon can still practice, I’m sure Lesley can get her GP back.  Make them run into one another constantly at the hospital.  Better yet, throw ALAN and LESLEY together in a number of madcap situations and let there be an attraction between them that Monica can sense.  Talk about being arrested by the karma police!  Let history work for you instead of running from it!  By the way:  instigate a menopause wellness group with guest spots by Dr Christiane Northrup.  Members include Gail, Monica, Bobbie, Lesley, Audrey and Lila.  NO more babies for any of these people, just learning to accept their advancing age with dignity and lots of Sarafem.   

13).  Zem:  Play on it.  Fans love it and they are good together.  Work your magic and let Zander redeem himself to the Q’s and get Emily out of that damned diner before there are no customers left.  Poor little rich girl can’t wait tables for anything.  Zander SMITH is actually Frank Smith’s son who is swearing out vengeance on Luke for killing his father.  Sonny talks sense into him and takes him under his wing ala Stone. 

14).  Back to Lucky the Robot.  Bring him back to Helena and let her program him to kill Luke and Laura.  They are locked in the bunker that Faison used until they make peace with their past.  Lucky comes in to kill them (get JJ back…please…whatever it takes…JY can go to Days, like, yesterday) but, of course, is unable to go through with it.  They all collapse in a sobbing, cuddling huddle, Luke vows to be a good dad to his kids, Laura vows to be a good mom and they vow to respect the other even though they have separate lives.  In some well-thought-out plan, they turn the tables on Helena…for now.  Bwwwaahahahaha.  She teams up with the returned Faison to exact all manners of havoc on the goody goodies of PC. 

15).  Stefan makes amends with Nikolas after an appropriate pissoff period by Nik.  Stefan finds himself oddly attracted to Gia as he gets to know her and hires her as his personal assistant, much to Nikolas’ displeasure.  They grow closer and this creates friction with Stefan.  In retaliation for their closeness, Nik pops the question to Gia and she rebuffs him.  The chase ensues and she uses her friendship with Stefan (which is genuine) to make it appear that she is closer to him than she is.  This drives Nikolas nuts and he finally demands that they get married.  She agrees and this gets Helena AND Florence busy on breaking them up.  For most moms, a daughter marrying a prince would seem a good thing, but I doubt Flo will take it as such.  This banter carries back and forth until their wedding day at Wyndemere, when Helena congratulates Gia on her wedding, welcomes her to the family and offers her a Cassadine heirloom to wear for the ceremony.   She takes her to her room to get it, then asks if she’s seen the parapet… 

16).  Sonny becomes more of a “real” mobster and not this namby pamby guy who can barely run numbers.  Carly drops out of Deception because of Laura’s overbearing attitude and starts up her own rival company, enlisting the advice of an unwitting Lucy Coe in taking it to the top.  She calls the company, “Honesty” and their catch phrase is, “Honesty:  Because Deception is just bad.”  Gia is her signature model and becomes very famous.  Sonny and Carly share a happy life and soon, Carly learns she is pregnant. She gives birth to twins, a son and a daughter.  Because of a snowstorm, she is trapped at the penthouse and Sonny delivers the babies himself with Alexis helping.   

17).  Other than working at the hospital and attending the Menopause Wellness Group, we never, ever, ever see Bobbie.  She is the Amy for the 2000’s.  We hear that Roy left her for her manipulations and he is now happily off with Luke.  

18).  Bite back your pride and get with Matt and Claire Labine.  Beg them to share other award winning ideas with you and let's take this show to the top!

I think that about covers it.  If you have any questions, just give me a holler.


February 21st, 2001, 3:00pm

Since the kids are quiet, I thought I’d take a moment and watch GH with you.  I’m wondering what lit a fire under Amy’s butt to get her so much air time after YEARS of semi-annual appearances.  Suddenly, she’s everywhere.  I loved her interaction with Luke today.  It was so typical of both of them.

Carly is making a bold move to go to the church in Martinique by herself and wait Sonny out.  Obviously, she wasn’t watching GH when Brenda was dumped at the altar.  Wouldn’t it be GREAT if we found out that Carly is pregnant, there was some freaky reenactment of the scene where Lily was blown up, but instead of her dying this time, Sonny actually saved her?  Maybe then, he could have some closure.  I love Sonny’s character showing some/any sign of being a real mobster instead of this whitewashed version, but I think it was a total copout that he didn’t pop Sorel.  How many chances is he going to give this guy to kill him and his family?  And what did they do to Rick to make an example of him.  Has Carly not asked where Rick is?  And where Rick’s ears and tongue are?  (Currently being digested in a fish’s belly, no doubt).  Feels like we are starting an ongoing montage of happy Carly and Sonny moments, which will be nice.  I love the way they overlay scenes any more, such as the Christmas party and the shooting.  OW!  Jason’s standing up to Sonny.  He must have bought a big bottle of testicular fortitude while he was away at Semper Fi.  This montage has definitely taken a downward turn with sad baby died scenes.  Those are owies.  Love Sonny’s explanation of why he’s leaving Carly.  Let’s hope Jason can get him straightened out.  OH WHAT A GREAT COMMERICAL!!  Love the Stir and Something with Little Richard and Pat Morita.  Fabulous.

I have discovered that I truly hate lovers’ banter, such as between Gia and Nik.  I think that is why I have come to hate Liz and Lucky so much.  Well, there’s the horrible acting by Jacob Young, especially when stacked up against Chad Brannon.  I couldn’t help but think, as I was watching Lucky be an ass to Jason, that there was no way I could imagine Jonathan Jackson’s Lucky being such an idiot.  Liz totally offends me with her high and mighty attitude and Miss Perfect persona.  That isn’t to say that not liking Liz automatically makes me a Gia or Carly fan.  It just makes me a not-Liz fan.  I think they are all nasty little twits and I have to throw Laura in there as well with the way she’s been acting.  Hopefully, the new incoming writers will do their homework and bring our people back into their right minds.  I remember one particular afterglow conversation between Roy and Bobbie where she batted her eyes mischievously and thanked him for saving money on water by showering with her.  He got a gleam in his eye and said, “Yeah, those water bills will drive you to your knees!”  (pause, pause, pause)  Ewww.  That was way more info than I needed about their water sports.  I’m praying Jensen Buchanan finishes up her legal skirmish with P&G and hurries back to her role as Melissa post haste. 

Ha!  All of these hospital board people showing up reminds me of And Then There Were None by Agatha Christie.

I wish I could say that the crush Maxie has on Lucky was sweet, but it just looks painful to me and seems like it could only lead to heartbreak for her.  The scene with the roses in the park was precious, but man, is Lucky so dense that he can’t see what’s going on and stop leading her on.  I know I didn’t just see him kiss her on the head at Kelly’s and feel her melt into a puddle under the table. 

Can you tell that I’m trying to get excited about *something* on the show?  Anything?  Right now, it just feels like the same old stories we’ve seen before, just with different players.  I’d sure like to see this show get a little kick in the kazoo!


February 11th, 2001, 8:30pm

Ahhhh!  Eric's taken the baby back to get him to sleep, Dylan is happily munching left over mac and cheese (but just woke up an hour ago from a four hour nap - grrrr - people say, "Well, wake him up, stupid!" but they have never suffered the wrath of a Dyl awakened before his time. . .'tis better to suffer awake all night!) and Delena is holed up in her room for the night.  I've got my female toner tea with lots of sugar in my fat moon goddess mug and it's time to talk GH.

I'm STILL doing my little victory dance over Scott coming to GH full time.  Within the GH fans I have that suffer some degree of viability, this was #1.  So beginning in a little less than a month, we are going to be seeing about as much of Scotty as we do of everyone else.  Mmmmmmm.  Him and me and the devil makes three, gonna be mah evah lovin' baaaaaaaby.

I just don't dig saints.  In fact, I don't enjoy extremes of any kind, saint or sinner.  It bothers me when you can tell the white hats from the black and halos from the horns in such an obvious way.  I didn't like Lily and like her even more in death since she has been rendered into stained glass to grace the Port Charles Cathedral.  I didn't like Robin.  She was cute as a little girl and I thought the Stone Dies story line was a gut-gripping, emotional powerhouse.  I love it when a show gives me indelible impressions that will be with me until I die.  Stone collapsing into the daisies, weeping after learning he has AIDS, Stone bungie jumping off the footbridge, Stone asking Robin to stand in the light so he could see her as he dies  *sniff*.  I'm sure that it's no accident that each of those memories begin with "Stone" and not "Robin."  Once Robin cut her hair (the ominous GH omen that you're going to despise this character in about 15 minutes), crossed her arms over her tiny breasts and started tapping that pretentiously petite foot, she became my #1 GH nemesis.  Before you knew it she was bitching at Jason, dictating morality and taking it upon herself to blab the *secret* to AJ.  No wonder Kimberly McCollough doesn't want to return as Robin.  After throwing things at the TV and wishing until my eyes were bleeding, Robin FINALLY went to Paris for good having wrought disaster in her wake (buh-bye).  You see?  These saintly types always leave disaster in their wake.  That's their legacy.  Lily's was just more subtle, by torturing Sonny for the rest of his life.  No saint just leaves without trailing pain and destruction behind them.  That's just the nature of the saint-beast.  You can imagine who is in my sights on this one.  I used to love Liz.  I felt her agony at Lucky's death and I loved how Jason brought her back to life.  I think somewhere around the time that Nikolas became obsessed with her, she took her place in the row of stained glass windows.  Now, everyone kisses her ass, including the fans.   I'm all for diverse opinions, but it irks me to see her being a total bitch to people, doing a sh!tty job at work (but she has Bobbie as an example, so who can discredit her for that?) and needing to constantly be reassured as to her beauty.  She has Lucky, Nikolas and Laura to be her guard dogs should anyone dare to condemn her for being a two-faced, snarky little thing.  Fans post by the millions about how her nastiness *sigh* just makes her more wonderfully human.  Her sniping is just totally on my nerves.  Maybe she can get a motorcycle of her own and go on a long, long ride.  

People automatically assume that because I am anti-Liz that I am pro-Gia or pro-Carly.  I'm just anti-Liz.  Carly is on my nerves lately as well, but so is Laura.  I think they're both being unreasonable and combative when they don't have to be.  Laura is pushing Liz HARD as the Face of Deception and everyone involved knows that Gia even getting a test shot is just a formality as far as Laura is concerned.  She had no right to offer the job to Liz without talking to Carly first, but she has never conceded even that point.  She COULD have consulted Carly before deciding who got what office, how the area would be decorated, etc.  What she seemed to forget, as she was railing into Carly on Friday about how she should have insisted on a trial period, blah, blah, blah is that after Laura found Mikie after he walked away at Kelly's, Carly offered her the chance to take the money from Sonny WITHOUT having to work with Carly as her partner.  LAURA is the one who insisted that Carly be brought on board as partner.  Given that, Laura needs to grow the hell up and start treating Carly as a partner.

Carly is being her usual self, which is a sad statement.  Bad behavior is unseemly and she is double dealing and undermining like mad just to stick it to Liz and Laura.  If she wants to be treated as a partner, she needs to start acting like one and not like a backstabbing little cheerleader.  It was totally wrong of Laura to keep putting off Gia while touting Liz's photo shoot.  Again, just evidence that *she* had decided on Liz and everything else is secondary.  Carly was NOT wrong to hire Lucky because, to be fair, the girls should have been shot with the same photographer.  The pics that the other photographer, whose name I can't remember, sucked of Liz.  She froze in front of the camera, she has big time issues with photography and was not suitable for the job until her boyfriend sweet talked her with a camera that he somehow knew how to operate.  Gia deserved the same environment and stimuli, whether she had a boyfriend or not.  Carly WAS wrong to do it behind Laura's back and should have told her outright that it's what she was going to do.  So ladies, stop acting like two-year-olds and just run the damned company.  My vote?  Carly runs her own company and Laura runs hers.  These kids are not going to play well in the same sandbox BELIEVABLY.  Of course, there is a moment on the horizon where they will make nice, join forces toward some common protagonist and be Tweedle Dee and Tweedle Dum, but it is going to have to work hard to get to my reality level.

Same for a Luke and Laura reunion.  The new Executive Producer is supposedly looking for it and I'm not buying.  I wanted it for a long time, but there's more water under that bridge than the Hoover Dam can hold back and it just doesn't wash any more. 

More later!



February 5th, 2001, 10:30am

Just a few lines before I clean my skanky, dirty house.  My sweetie lost his job quite unexpectedly last Tuesday and since he is our sole breadwinner, life has been sorely disrupted.  Time to get back to order again.  He has a few hundred resumes out there and, as a communications engineer, is very marketable, so something will turn up.   If you have MCI as your long distance provider or any other provider, I strongly urge you to dump their asses like they did him.  Turns out, they fraudulized their third quarter numbers and are being hit with a class action lawsuit.  They immediately let go all of their contractors with 30 minutes notice and no severance.  My husband was one of them.  Of course, that is the chance you take with contract work, but it sucks, none the less.

On to GH.  For those who do not know, the curly do you saw Bobbie wearing on Friday (as well as the curls she sported at her aborted wedding to Jerry Jacks) are Jackie Zeman's natural hair.  The previous regime insisted that she wear it straightened and flat for the part of Bobbie, but it looks like the new broom that's sweeping has no problem with JZ's curls.  

OK, is Emily 18 or not?  She's being treated by the Q's as if she is still a minor, we know she's a senior in high school, but Tammy didn't hesitate to give her the room against Edward's wishes.  

Loved the way Sonny said, "How you doin'?" to Zander, Joey Tribioni style.  

I ADORED Elton's rant on Alexis, particular about "because YOU couldn't drag your NEUROTIC SELF down the aisle."  What a gem this guy is.  I love the help in this town.  Johnny, Elton, Reginald and Leticia are infinitely more interesting to watch than the main characters.  

Why is it so hard for Bobbie to wrap her little nosey pea brain around the idea that Roy might actually have a good reason for wanting his past to remain in the past?  He's with her now, he's made it clear that he is not proud of some of the things he had to do as an operative for the FBI, but she insists on digging them up and putting his face in them!  All hail Melissa, hopefully the incumbent Mrs Roy.  It will serve Bobbie right.

Now that Luke is back, let's home LUKE is back and not this shadowy, lurking, revenge-driven dark force that Guza and Riche created.  Let's lighten up and have a little fun again.  I hear Tristan Rogers wants to come back, so why not team up Roy, Robert and Luke and throw a little adventure into the show!  Hell, bring back Sean Donnelly as well!  Now that the name of Tiffany has been invoked, I say we go for it!

I'm so glad they finally addressed Monica's not pregnancy and brought up the possibility of menopause.  When she finally goes in to get a little provera, is she going to learn that she really is pregnant?

Off to clean the house!


January 29, 2001  2:30pm

Wow!!  What a response! Thanks to everyone for their support after I published the Fat column below!  I was so moved by the sheer numbers of people who wrote and their heartfelt support and commiserations that I have created a journal just for the documentation of the fat to fit journey, complete with (da dumm!!) FAT PICS.  Click HERE to get there.  Also, I appreciate all the recommendations for Overeaters Anonymous and Weight Watchers.  I'm so excited that it is working for some of you, but I'm just not a team player, so I have to do this one on my own.  Thanks again!


January 28, 2001  10:00am


I want to talk about fat.  Specifically, my fat.  I suppose that each fat person is fat in their own way and for their own reasons, so I can only really speak from my own experience.  Fat is a very personal issue.  My husband, Eric, who is my closest friend and the only adult with whom I interact in person on a day-to-day or even week to week basis, is not fat and has never been fat.  He is fine and he is ripped.  Here he is:

 eric.jpg (17737 bytes)
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Before we married, he dated Barbie dolls exclusively.  All of his girlfriends were either petite and thin or tall and athletic.  He and I were best friends while he dated and he eventually married be despite my weight and the way I look (I am, mind you, a gorgeous woman.  I just happen to be quite fat).  I will always be able to say that he didn’t marry me for my body and is big enough of a man to overlook the physicals.  Still, I know that my body is not at all his physical preference.  He has been quite frank about that in some candid discussions and is extremely supportive of my weight loss efforts, which are many and varied.  He is also disappointed, gracefully so, when I fail again and again.  My first husband married me when I was 16-years-old with a slender, teenage body and large breasts.  I gained weight off and on throughout our marriage, usually packing on weight when he would leave (he was a chronic leaver) and taking it off when he returned and things went back to normal.  When we actually divorced for two years, I gained about 80 pounds within 3-4 months and it never went away.  We remarried when he returned from an Air Force tour in 1994 and he wasn’t very happy that I was still as fat as I had been when he left the states.  After a little over two years, he left me for another woman who was and is a stick.  Not one little brain cell rattling around in that little pinhead of hers, but he got his thin woman.  Who knows if he’s happy with his choice?  I don’t because we are no longer in contact.  Since I adore my current husband more than I could ever imagine loving my first husband, you can imagine the pressure I put on myself with this one, even though Eric works very hard to encourage me to lose weight without hurting my feelings. 

I am currently forty pounds below my highest weight and approximately eighty pounds over where I’d like to be.  My mother weighs somewhere over 300 pounds and has for as long as I can remember.  Both of her knees have been replaced due to the stress of bearing so much weight for so many years.  When she turned eighteen, she weighed 180 pounds, which was the lowest in her adult life.  She walked with a walker the last time I saw her, which was in 1995.  She went into a wheel chair after the knee surgery and has only recently started walking with a walker again (that’s a whole other story).  She is 58 years old.  I remember when I was young, if my mother was particularly sad, she’d pour a half bottle of Karo syrup into one of our big dinner plates and then plop peanut butter into it until the syrup rose almost to the flange.  She’d then mix it all together and sop (you Northerners may not know about “sopping” as it is a southern art form, but you can imagine) it up with a half loaf of bread, smacking her lips in sheer pleasure. 

When my father died in 1986, he weighed 347 pounds.  I know this because I remember reading the autopsy report where my father was reduced to “a 51-year-old obese white male, five feet, nine inches in height weighing 347 pounds with wiry gray hair…”    He died of a ruptured ventricle, which occurred due to blood building up in his heart.  The vessels were so densely encrusted with cholesterol deposits that the blood just couldn’t leave fast enough.  He was in the hospital for chest pains and was going to be discharged the next day after a balloon catheter exam.  He sat up, said, “My chest hurts” and fell back, dead before he hit the pillow.  My poor cousin, (it was his birthday) who was an orderly at the hospital, did frantic compressions on Dad, but because of the ruptured ventricle, Billy only succeeded in forcing out more blood into his chest cavity.  Dad never once at a breakfast that did not include eggs and sausage, ham, bacon or pork chops. My younger brothers are both very large men and are best friends with their forks. 

When I was ten-years-old, my mother began a series of surgeries that kept her in a constant state of in the hospital, recovering from surgery or getting ready to go into the hospital in the throes of some malady or another.  Mom had learned early in life that the only way to get attention in a family of nine kids was to be sick and that carried over into an adult life of hypochondria, much to the financial delight of her surgeon.  I do not belittle the painful life she led because it was very real.  Psychosomatic illness hurts no less than the real thing.  This left me with the job of chief caregiver in the Chapman Municipal Zoo and I was responsible for cleaning out all the cages and feeding the savage beasts (aka my dad and brothers).  (For those who may have missed it, my family did not run a zoo, that was my droll sarcasm over my young lot in life).  Fortunately, my mother had taken me aside at the age of about six, told me that I wasn’t much to look at, so I’d better learn to cook, perched me on the stool by the stove and taught me how to cook.  I am an incredible cook.  Back then, I only knew southern basic cooking, which meant, “fry it.”  “How do you cook a steak, mama?”  “Fry it, but dip it in some flour, salt and pepper first.”  “How do I make a poached egg, mama?”  “Fry it, baby.  Just crack it into some of the bacon grease from the tub on the stove.”  I was good at frying.  When I left home at sixteen, I was even better at it.  Years of pulling dinner out of the freezer and cooking breakfast for my dad and brothers before leaving for school served me well in the culinary expertise department.  My first husband was in the Air Force and we traveled the world.  As we did, I picked up many, many wonderful recipes and became an even better cook.  Many of my recipes and cooking ideas you can actually find at www.eyeonsoaps.com/AMC/recipes.htm.  When I pleaded with Paul (the Goat, for my long-term readers), when he was leaving me for the stick/She-Goat, to tell me one thing that I did better than the woman for whom he was leaving his family, he was able to say that I was a better cook and I was smarter.  So I got two points, but he still left.  I guess some things are just worth the cost of a TV dinner. 

People like Eric, my husband, who are not fat and have never been fat really and have never lived around a fat person believe that fat is a matter of math.  So many calories go in, so much energy is burned, the balance is converted to fat and stored on the body.  Despite every diet that comes along (I’ve tried them all, believe me) that attests to the contrary, this does seem to be the case physically.  As a collective society, we have learned a lot about the fine-tuning of that math, bringing insulin levels, fiber, water intake, hormonal levels and mental state into play, but the overall outlook is the same.  It all comes down to what you are eating, how much of it you’re eating and what you are (or aren’t) doing to burn it off.  But as I said in the beginning, fat is very personal.  There is a dynamic to being fat that defies the math of being fat.  It’s like a synergistic thing that is greater than the sum of its fat cells.  

It has taken me a lot time to admit two things about my situation.  On is that I would love to be lean, strong and healthy (although that one came first), but the other is that there are things I actually like about being fat.  I love the way my fat feels.  Sure, by Western ideals, I’m not supposed to say that, but from a tactile sense, it’s fabulous.  I lay on my back and my giant boobs fall heavily to each side and my belly melts into the mattress like ice cream pooling on a hot sidewalk.  I can make a little man with my fingers and walk him over my belly and have him sink in to about his knees.  “Aaaaaaahhhhhhhhh!”  He looks up at the wrong time and falls into my belly button!  “Yikes!” He gets distracted and falls into the La Brea Baby Belly Pit, never to be seen again!  Look!  He’s on the moooon, bounce, bounce, bounce!  Once small step for a fingerman and one giant leap for fingerkind!  My fat is soft and cuddly and makes a magnificent, cozy nest for my children to cuddle down into.  I wrap all around them like a warm, mommy blanket.  After my last baby was born (#6) in 1999, the skin on my belly stayed the same as it was right after he was born and feels kind of like bread dough that has risen to be punched down.  It just didn’t bother to snap back again.  It’s smooth and soft and gelatin-like.  

I love never having to think about what I’m going to eat.  I don’t have to furrow my brow and stare furtively into the menu of a restaurant and calculate fat calories versus carbs versus fiber and worry that I’m ordering the wrong thing.  I can say, “Hmm, what’s gonna taste GOOD?”  I can order appetizers and even a dessert if I want one.  A whole set of stressors is immediately eliminated if I choose to stay fat.  

Speaking of stressors, eating itself is a fine art form.  UCLA, I believe it was, was doing a study to determine the effects of heredity on weight gain.  They took in people who were pre-disposed to weight gain and targeted those who ate very little, but still seemed to gain weight.  They figured this would be the best demographic to work with to assess the effects of genetics.  They isolated the people for thirty days and preemptively verified with them that they tended to eat very little, but still gain weight, then provided them with access to a decent amount of food and monitored weight gain.  You know what they learned?  That these people were gaining weight because they ate more than they thought they did and were actually exceeding their daily output of caloric needs versus their energy expenditures.  Science has proven that we can totally jack our metabolism through repeated dieting to the point that it takes very few calories to sustain our overweightedness, so if we eat more than a sandwich in a day, we gain.  I’ll stand up and wave my arms and be the first to admit that I gain weight or, as is my norm, sustain my weight and don’t lose because I eat like a hog.  I love food.  Food is a very good friend of mine.  Lemme tell you what food is to me. 

Food is the one thing in my life that I can always guarantee will be good.  When I pop a chewy, soft, chocolate chip cookie into my mouth, there is only a sliver of a chance that it won’t taste good, but so far, that just hasn’t happened.  If I have a big, oversized, warm plate of homemade chicken pot pie, it’s going to give me a feeling of warmth inside as well and I’ll feel full and nurtured and sated, regardless of the status of my bank account or the laundry pile in my bedroom or the homework my daughter went to sleep on instead of doing. It is guaranteed 100% satisfaction with few variables.  I am a tortured Virgo living in a life that is seldom anything BUT variables.  I have three adult children who are a whole pack of worries unto themselves.  When your kids are little and right under your feet, you worry about everything, but you don’t even know WHAT worry is until your kids are grown, gone, out of your control, influence and protection.  They’re driving around 2 ton machines that can kill in an instant.  They’re walking into McDonald’s where some lunatic is no doubt ready to take out his disgruntled fat man, just fired from UPS rage with an M-16.  They’re sleeping with other people’s wives and courting disaster by giving some guy the finger on I-15.  They’re having sex without condoms, mulling over the idea of starting to smoke again and piercing that beautiful body I worked so hard to create and protect.  Once they break out of the Mommy Bubble, you don’t ever STOP worrying.  Then I have the three little children.  Delena, my only daughter, is eight and is Walking Hellish Angst Personified (WHAP for short).  The back of her hand is permanently velcroed to her forehead, her eyes are eternally upturned toward the heavens and her mouth is forever in a wail or a whine.  She argues absolutely every point that is presented to her and is the most tortured child on the face of the planet.  Her life sucks for ten thousand reasons and she’s not going to let a soul forget it.  She counts all those reasons instead of sheep as she goes to sleep at night and looks for new ones to add.  She’s not just nailed to the cross, she’s clamped to it with a series of C-clamps and the cross is jammed into a pile of kindling, been doused with gasoline and set afire on a raft in the middle of a shark infested ocean.  Woe is she!  From the second she doesn’t want to go to school upon opening her eyes in the morning, through the agony of not being able to eat a dinner of Pez and Pepsi at the computer through the devastation of having to turn off her beloved Facts of Life rerun to be in bed and asleep by 9pm, her life is a series of tragic disappointments.  She was having a tough day the other day and I eeked out $10 for her brother to take her to the movies.  When I picked them up, she was sobbing and when I asked her what was wrong, did she not enjoy the movie, she turned on me like a rabid dog and wailed that I had NOT given them money for REFRESHMENTS so how could she ENJOY the movie when she was STARVING?  *sigh*  You think it’s not going to happen to you.  You swear it will never happen to you, but then you find you have raised a brat, despite your best efforts. 

My two little boys are not bad kids, but they are very, very, very busy.  One is 3-years-old and the other is 16-months and what one does not think of, the other one does and radios it in.  They are a tag team that makes WWF look like the Mad Hatter’s tea party.  While I’m cleaning up the juice one spilled at breakfast, the other is flushing the TV remote down the toilet.  Dig out the remote and the other one is jamming the cat in the oven.  Get out the cat and there is an ominous crash from the bedroom where one tried to climb up the bookcase.  Rescue kid and bookcase and the other has stripped off his clothes, shimmied out a window you didn’t know was open and run to the park while your neighbor excitedly calls Child Protective Services.  It’s literally one thing after another after another in a long chain of catastrophes.  I told someone the other day that it was like praying the kid rosary and just going from one bead of disaster, to another to another to another.  If you lock yourself in THEIR room with THEIR toys and stay there the hold day, you can undo the rosary for that time at least.  The alternative, as my friend Karen suggests, is to lock THEM in their room with their toys and lock yourself in the bathroom turn on the shower and sit in the tub and cry your eyes out. 

Food is a wonderful anesthesia.  It gives you a warm, satisfied feeling in a world that is often devoid of satisfaction.  I don’t smoke any more.  Gave that up in ’86.  I don’t drink except for the occasional daiquiri every 2-3 months (sorry chat ladies, it was just an internet illusion), I don’t gamble and my only other excess is that I swear quite a bit.  I eat.  There are not many places for nurturing to  in my life.  That valve seems to be kind of one-way.  I have a theory about nurturing.  To go with my theory, you have to at least temporarily subscribe to my belief that men and women have specific roles in life and that while one can technically perform the tasks of the other, by nature’s laws, being born with a penis or a uterus pretty well gives you a natural predisposition to the integral roles of that gender.  It has been my experience that men are doers, fixer, analytical, left-brained creatures.  Women, on the other hand, are feelers, nurtures, life-giving right-brained people.  Like the yin and the yang, we have a predominance of our own gender role with the eye of the opposite within us.  In Latin, this was called the anima and the animus, the male or female self within us.  By that, I think that women are NOT by nature predisposed to those left-brained, male activities, but can develop them if we tap into that “eye” in our Yang and work that Yang muscle.  Men are, in my world, NOT by nature predisposed to those nurturing habits exemplified by the right-brained woman creatures, but can develop them if they tap into that “eye” in their Yin within and work that Yin muscle.  That leaves men, who have women in their lives, getting their nurturing, usually on a daily basis, but women, who have men in their lives, having to look elsewhere for it unless you have one of those men who are tapping their Yin.  We have to look elsewhere for it, but the oil is changed in our car and the icemaker in our refrigerator is working properly.  While this analytical versus nurturing may seem like a good trade off, for people like ME, who have no women in the house (except my precious WHAP), on nurture deficit.  So where do we get our nurturing?  From other women, of course!  We have girls’ night out, phone calls, cliques at work, message boards, sisters, moms, letters, best friends, prayer groups, PTA meetings and a thousand other places where we can be stroked, sympathized with, validated and loved.  MY problem is being a stay-at-home mom with limited computer time, zero phone time (I long ago gave up attempted an intelligent phone conversation with the Bowery Boys on the loose) and no friends or relatives around, there just ain’t no nurturing going on.  The cup isn’t just dry, there’s dust and moths and bats flying around in there.  Somewhere along the way, “nurturing” was heard through the din of my life and was interpreted as “nourishing,” so I eat to be nurtured.  Eating is, as I said, a wonderful anesthesia for the constant giving that my life demands.  It’s immediate payback. 

When I don’t eat and don’t have that nurturing, I get pretty raw.  I did find an supplement called chromium picolinate, the main ingredient in Ultra Chroma Slim, in fact, (hence, the ‘Chroma’) that is very good at grounding me down from the emotionalism of not having my food blanket to cuddle under and actually seems to jack with the opiate sensors in the brain that are satisfied by the nurture eating.  The herb Garcinia Cambogia is also quite good.  I take both.  It’s helping somewhat, so I’m starting to believe I might be able to do it this time.  

There are a lot of reasons why I am finished being fat, despite the positive side of it being cuddly and fun to play with and having the instant gratification to fall back onto. I want to be able to wear decent clothes, for one thing.  With the exception of Delta Burke, fashion designers of the affordable, K-Mart variety seem to think that fat people want to be seen in huge cabbage roses, puffed sleeves and giant sweatshirts with bears on them.  Forget trying to find any nice lingerie or eveningwear.  I want to wear real jeans that snap and have them be comfy again.  I also want to not look at the ass of them and wonder where they found SO much denim.  As I am getting older (40 looms this very year), I am starting to look out of place next to my younger husband and although he is growing a very nice beard, I want to at least look like we are something of a matched set.  Just the other day, he was thinking out loud and said that he wanted people to look at us and want to BE us, physically.  I told him they already do that.  Men look at him and think, “Damn, I want to look like him!” and women look at me and think, “Damn, I want to eat like a hog, be fat and still have a gorgeous husband.”  He allowed that it wasn’t quite what he was going for and asked how the treadmill was working out for me (bastard).  I want to be able to keep up with chasing after my kids and not sit at my computer chair, lazily snapping a whip in their direction.  I want to run my hand down my side and feel curves going “in” again, dipping at an actual waist.  I want to wear a belt.  I want to NOT have four breasts (Fat people around the world know what I’m talking about.  To translate for skinny people, fat boobs tend to not fit well in bras, so they bisect your breast, creating another breast overhang, giving the visual effect of having four breasts.  You can also opt for the sports bra – also called “giving up” and go with the uni-boob look).  I want to not having to automatically think, “F*#% You, Stick” when the teeny bopper checker at Albertson’s smirks as she slides my half gallon of Cherry Garcia across the electric eye.  I want to have sex and get thrown around a bit. The list goes on and I shan’t bore you further with it. 

My goals are not tremendously lofty.  I can still fit into an airline or movie seat comfortably.  I can sit in a booth at a restaurant.  I know people who cannot.  My boobs (all four of ‘em) still stick out further than my belly and are equal with my hip measurement, which has stayed exactly 10 inches wider than my waist measurement.  My weight is fairly proportional. I don’t have any desire to be thin, just a nice size.  I’d rather be as fat as I am now, honestly, than to have the skin and bones look of most soap stars.  I’m looking to get to 145-150, which means I’ve got my foot on the first step of the past to losing 70-75 pounds.  There are three things that I know about weight loss that are absolutely immutable and remain totally constant in the hubbub of everything else.  1)  You absolute have to drink a half gallon or more of water every day.  I hate drinking water.  I am a Dr Pepper, iced tea person through and through.  I will drink the damned water.  2)  You absolutely have to exercise daily, a specific aerobic exercise, not just house work or chores or the other things we tell ourselves will do the trick.  You can’t do it only 4-5 days a week because you’ll not follow through on the days you DO have to exercise.  If you do it daily, it will become part of your routine and is not negotiable.  3)  You have to eat a balanced diet that includes all the food groups and does not exceed 1200-1500 calories.  I would include a fourth to say that you have to find some place to get the nurturing that the food provides or you will go mad.  I’m still working on that one, but I may end up a Chromium Picolinate junkie before all is said and done.  

This time I am going to succeed, one day at a time.  I want this well under way by my birthday, September 5th and then I don’t ever want to go back again.  Fat has done its part.  It kept men at bay and disinterested when I was emotionally bruised and beaten and didn’t want to deal with them (Eric slipped through the cracks).  It has nurtured me when there was nothing else to do it.  It has allowed me to not have to think daily about what I eat or why.  Now I don’t need it for those things any more and my friend of so many years and I are going to have to shake hands and part, having both served one another well.  I’ll let you know how it progresses and I’d be lying if I said that right now I want a big glass of water and a chicken salad instead of a Dr Pepper on ice and a Big and Tasty value meal from McDonalds.  But hey, it’s not like I can never have those things again.  Just have to be careful and prioritize…for the rest of my life.  Damn.  But there are worse things.  Like your autopsy describing you as "an obese white female with long brown hair, weighing 300 pounds, five feet four, large body frame..." 

See ya!  Will write on topic soon.  Meanwhile, check out the other great writers we have.


Jan 21, 2001  3:30pm

I have spent a week looking at a blank MSWord page, wondering what I could write about GH.  I love GH, don’t get me wrong, and I’m seldom at a loss for words regarding subjects that I enjoy. I’ve been writing about GH for a few years now and there haven’t been very many times that I’ve had writer’s block and I can’t even say that’s what this is.  It’s more like writer’s indifference.  Traditionally, soaps ebb and tide so that when May and November hit for major sweeps time, we feel as though we’re being bombarded with great stuff (with the except of last November’s “sweeps” which were more of a “sleep.”  GH is in a state of extreme flux right now with a new Executive Producer taking the reins.  Big changes are not likely until Jill Farren Phelps figures out exactly where she plans to take the show.  The biggest change is the dismissal of Michael Saucedo from the role of Juan.  I’m sure no one saw THAT coming from the minute Chad Brannon was on the screen with Emily post-kidnapping. (sarcasm dripping)  I doubt it was particularly difficult for MS to work up animosity for the scenes where Juan tells off Zander.  His firing was actually the last act by the old school, lame duck EP, Wendy Riche, before handing the steering wheel over the Phelps.  Once a new EP is in place, all bets are off and it’s anyone’s ballgame.  Phelps has a history of not holding any particular show paradigm sacred, so there’s not telling who’s staying and who’s going.  Her favorite move seems to be breaking up favorite couples, so I am wondering if the rocky life and times of Nexis is yet a continuance of the tradition.  Phelps is also (remained braced), a fan of promoting the teen stories, so look for the Brat Pack to remain front and center.  

While we wait in suspense and GH langours in limbo, I’m getting the snoozes and the apathies while watching.  Yes, I really do love the show and have ridden out much drier times than these, but my entertainment throat is starting to feel a little parched.  

Firstly, the show has more dropped balls than kindergarten basketball team.  Admittedly, I missed a show here and there while in Canada for the wedding, so if something came up that I skipped, by all means, please fill me in. 

1).  Didn’t Monica buy a pregnancy test about 5 months ago because after they stopped the fertility treatments (when Emily was kidnapped), she suddenly thought she really was pregnant? 

2).  Were we possibly going somewhere with Bobbie having a real problem memory-wise and then Larkin got tossed in as the big bad wolf at the last minute after the story was nixed?  If so, WHAT a shame.  I’d love to see a show where Bobbie is actually having to deal with a real problem instead of the cloak and dagger crap she builds up around her.  My feeling?  Roy’s past is his own.  If he doesn’t want her help to work it out and TELLS her to leave it alone, for godsake, back off!  He is obviously tremendously upset by all he had to do during his years of duplicity as an undercover agent, so please, just let the man have some peace instead of upending that barrel of monkeys, nay, screeching, ranting, sharp-clawed baboons.  He obviously knows more about the dangers that might be back there than Bobbie does, so maybe he knows best about how to handle it. At his age, the man is entitled to have secrets and private parts of his life or, at the very least, the respect to let the secrets come out at his own speed rather than being unassed by Bobbie-the-noseyassed-nurse.  It will serve her right if Melissa turned out to be the love of his life and he only came back to Bobbie because he thought Melissa wouldn’t have him after learning that he was a fed! 

3).  What ever happened to Juan’s music career?  Is he just leaving on tour with Miguel now that MS has been let go?  

4).  What about the music box Chloe kept seeing?  Was there a connection there?  Was there something with the Sleeping Beauty theme that was never fleshed out?  What the hell? 

5).  Is that really all there is to Lucky’s brainwashing?  Wasn’t his head supposed to explode or something if he and Liz had sex?  I thought there was some kind of heavy duty programming that would be detonated if he went through with it that would culminate in great loss and the destruction of the Spencers.  Are we to believe that either Helena was bluffing (yeah, sure she was, she’s a big bluffer) or that Kevin just *fixed* all that? 

6).  Are we sure that the person Helena was on the telephone with confirming that very thing (that the intensive brainwashing would hold) was a doctor and not Faison himself? 

7).  Didn’t we have the feeling when Helena learned that Stefan was alive and had been listening to her that she kind of knew that Andreas had been the one who betrayed her?  Have we seen him lately or is he now skewered like his brother?  Is that yet another ball dropped with a resounding thud? 

8).  Did Lila’s memwahs ever get published OR that seedy book about Cortlandt street?  Does Felicia have ANY visible means of support other than milking off Mac? 

9). Just where the hell IS The Outback? 

10).  What happened to Annabelle, Foster and Raul? 

11).  Don’t even get me started on the fact that Lesley STILL hasn’t called Rick to let him know that he’s not legally married to Ginny Blake any more.  Has she even asked about him.  Why doesn’t she ever interact with anyone except Laura’s immediate family?  Can we please get some good action going on with her and Monica?  I’d love to see if Leslie Charleson can still act if she’s given a decent story.  

12).  Did Jax send for all of his stuff or what?  Who cleaned out his penthouse?  Did he never write to say hi, good-bye or kiss my ass to Alexis and Ned?  Are they not noticing that they haven’t heard a word from him in months?  Why has he not contacted Chloe?  You’d think that one way or another, by now he would have made a genuine attempt to call her (rather than Stefan’s faked one).  Did Lady Jay and John just drop off the earth?  There’s enough contact between Alexis, Chloe and the Jacks family that someone should have figured out that something’s amiss. 

13).  Why isn’t Mac pissed at Felicia any more?  Did that turn around seem a little sudden?  I understand that “for the sake of the gurrrrrls” mentality, but in private, I’d think they’d be less than bosom buddies after the events of the past year. 

14).  Did no one think it was odd that Felicia, the ex of the Commish, was given full access to confidential police records? 

15).  Who’s running the coffee warehouse?  Benny? 

16).  Whatever happened to Carlos?  Do we know yet?  Jason went presumably to rub him out, but nothing else was ever mentioned.  Why do people not think that Carlos could be who took out the hit on Sonny’s entourage as they left the police station?  “People” meaning Sonny and Benny. 

17).  Why was Felicia not brought up on charges of withholding evidence and impeding a police investigation when she sat on the info that Luke was innocent? 

18).  How long has AJ been dry now with no one noticing? 

19).  Now that Stefan is back, is Florence out of a job? 

20).  Have we seen Lucas celebrating a birthday YET? 

For all those scoffers, I must say that yes, I know this is just a soap and that life and numbers are not perfect in soapland.  I don’t expect them to be, but c’mon.  Some of these things may be nitpicky (look, I’m a Virgo, back off), but some are major story breakers?  I could go on, but twenty is plenty.  I’ll be back soon (promise!).


January 10, 2000  2:09pm

There has been so much to write about that it’s been hard to know where to start.  The Zem acting continues to reach the “outstanding” mark, especially Tamblyn’s portrayal of the trapped and anguished Em being forced off to boarding school yesterday.  Poor Chad Brannon has had little to do but fawn over Emily and defend himself to a legion of champions from the army of adults.  I look forward to his testimony and later his reaction to hearing what has become of Emily.  I’m sure he will have some choice scenes with various Quartermaines that will be well worth an investment of popcorn.   

Sarah Brown and Maurice Benard tore my heart out with their “I love you’s” and I can tell you that her pressuring him to identify exactly *when* he knew he loved her was pure Katrina.  I’ve had that conversation more than once with similar responses (“I love you now, isn’t that good enough?”).  Where Carly and I part was is she agreed that it was and I pressed on further.  “I want my wife.  I NEED my wife.”  Awwwww.  Sonny can even do it with fourteen or so bulletholes in him.  WHAT a master swordsman. 

I was disappointed with Lily’s return.  I was hoping for a little more discussion of Sonny’s canonization of Lily and her possibly telling him that she’s no saint.  She had her Carly moments where she manipulated things beyond belief, but all of that was lost forever the second her father accidentally blew her to bits.  Now she’s an angel, and even more so after those scenes.  I do have a few questions and I understand that many of these have been blowing around the net, but I shall validate them as worth or not here.  #1)  People were griping because Lily and the babies all three aged in Heaven or where ever they were.  What I will submit to the masses is that the alternatives to having the babies age were totally unpleasant.  One is that, since Sonny’s baby with Lily was a tiny fetus when it died, either Lily would have to spend eternity pregnant (most pregnancies already seem like an eternity.  Having that as realty would be heinous) or else, the baby would be a tiny fetus on it’s own, autonomously, which is not cinematically easy OR pleasant (I can’t get the annoying image of “The Dancing Baby” as “The Dancing Fetus” out of my head).  The only option I can see was to show two babies and the only way to differentiate the kids was to have them be (oh, for the most part) ages they would have been had they been carried to term and survived.  All of us who have lost little babies along the way want to know that they are safely ensconced in a celestial baby wonderland, happily waiting for us when it’s our turn to cross over to the Summerland.  The Lilly/babies-in-the-garden scenes fulfilled that need wonderfully.  Lily was older?  OK, so they fuzzed the lens and used lots of make-up.  We’re ALL older, so let’s just be glad we had the same actress.  I think that is infinitely cooler than worrying about wrinkles in Heaven.  #2) – Why were there two babies?  Well, I’ll tell you why.  When Carly and Sonny lost their baby, Sonny went to Lily’s grave and told her about the baby dying and asked Lily to look after it, which is why she was holding the baby.  My concerns about this are manifold.  I was remembering the first time Carly came home to find that Jason had gotten Robin to watch Michael and she went nuclear.  Carly don’ like saints watching her kids.  Period.  Another, more selfish concern:  Lily is DEAD and her ex asks her to baby-sit?  Hmmmmm.  Does it ever end, ladies?  Next concern, back to Carly.  If I heard right, Sonny has plans to come back to the garden with Lily and the babies when he really does die.  Sure, he returned to life for Carly and Michael, but in death, after living 40-50 years with Carly, he’s going back to wife#1??  OH, or perhaps we can have everyone living in the garden together as one, big, happy family.  Sure, that’ll work.  Enough of Heaven, already. 

You GO (e), Chloe.  I loved the scene where she sprang back from her sumptuous kiss with Stefan-the-Unkempt and said, “That was so EASY!  Now I know how you LIED IN MY FACE for all that time!”  She shoots, she scores.  We know that they will, no doubt, end up together, but it’s fun to watch the process.  Chloe will make a GREAT Cassadine.  She even loves the décor of Wyndemere, or at least pretended she did.  The maze of secret passageways will delight her.  The parapet!  For the love of God, Chloe, stay away from the parapet!!  I was just thinking that what Stefan really needed to rid himself of a good case of the Lasha Blues was a woman half his age.  It cleanses the palate, like a cracker at a wine tasting festival.  I could find many worse ways to recover from a Jax abandonment than cuddling up with Stefan!  Rrrrrroooowwwwll. 

I was reserving comment, but I totally love Elton.  What a cute little cliché figure he is!  He and Amy were such a marvelous busybody pile up in the Deception offices and I LOVE the texture he brings to the screen.  Between him, Leticia, Johnny, Francis and my love, Reginald, I have to say that the help is sometimes infinitely more interesting than the front row players on the show. 

 It is obvious to me that the newborn GH regime doesn’t have a clue what to do with Ned and Alexis.  The good news is that the clumsiness the writers have around the couple can be covered by the clumsiness that would exist around being dumped at the altar amidst a million dollar wedding.  Once the madness of playing safe house to Zander and Eddie’s Angel to the media dies down, where will the most fun couple in daytime be?  I’m praying the writers and EP don’t end up with a limp, script, in their hand where these two are concerned.  Knowing the new Executive Producer’s penchant for breaking up favorites couples under the guise of fans “not knowing what they need,” I’m starting to worry.  Luke and Laura pennant wavers, don’t leave the stadium by any means, there is still a chance.  But we have a new home team now and god knows how they’re going to play. 

How funny it would be if Larkin is sunning on a beach in the Caribbean, sipping a Mai-Tai and reading Playboy without a single thought of Bobbie or Roy.  Why is it so hard to consider that Bobbie might actually have been screwing up?  I’m curious how Larkin managed to fake the screw-ups Bobbie made on hospital records that opened the door for Tony to give her a royal ass chewing.  How in the world did he make her forget to pick up Lucas?  My feeling is that the previous writers were going with a logical explanation such as a tumor or menopause and the new team nixed the idea and patched it over with this stupid Larkin story.   

Speculation is rampant about what secrets Roy is hiding and what exactly he did when he had given up on ever getting back with Bobbie.  I still think Bobbie is out of line digging around in his past after he asked her to let things lie.  This whole guise of it being to “help” Roy (when he never asked for her help) is more than a bit thin.  She *might* be targeted if this *is* Larkin (and there has been no real proof of that), but that doesn’t mean Roy loses all rights and control over his past. 

Speaking of stupid, reactionary, nosey women, why, oh why couldn’t Sorel be the Hartz Flea Collar that Port Charles so desperately needs?  That could have inflamed Mac’s vendetta ire and made him MUCH more interesting.  The guurrrls want to go live in Texas anyway. 

See ya later!