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The Week After the Event Let Down It’s official. I’m psycho. Not you’re ordinary run-of-the-mill scream and run around with a gun in my hand shooting innocent people psycho (yikes!) but the kind that builds slowly as a bomb in the pit of your stomach day after day after day until something major happens and BAM! It bursts right out of you, exploding pieces of what’s left of your guts all over your friends and family, leaving them stunned and frightened! Before I left for the GH Fan Luncheon I bought a big bag of pretzels. Not just the ordinary sticks or twists but these little, thick, chunky pieces of pretzels. They are heavenly! My mouth waters as I think of them. I’m not sure why I like these specific pretzels so much, but I do. That night I ate some, happy as a clam. In my house you have to sort of ‘hide’ the good food. Really, not even the good food, but the food you don’t want anyone else to eat. Or at least I do because no matter what I get for just me, everyone else wants it too. I hate that! So this morning I got up, yelled my family into getting ready for school with looks of horror on their faces and then went to Gold’s Gym in an attempt to burn off some angst and trepidation before my psycho bomb burst. After working out I went to the store and purchased some egg beaters in an effort to try and be healthier and proceeded to scramble them up with some ham and reduced fat cheese. Sure, it was good but due to hormonally induced circumstances I wanted my pretzels. I went up to my room where they’d last been seen and guess what? They were gone! GONE! My bomb went off. My husband works out of the house and his makeshift office is in the basement. Did I walk down there? Noooo! I called him on his cell phone and said “Where’s my pretzels! I want my f*!*ing pretzels!” “Uh, um. I ate them.” I could hear the fear in his voice. He became quieter with each word. ”You ATE them? I yelled. “There were other pretzels in the cabinet! Those were MINE!” Click. (That would be me hanging up the phone in a complete and utter lapse of maturity). Now I know why Ric has done all those terrible things to Sonny, Carly and Elizabeth. His psycho bomb burst while no one was looking and now they’re dealing with the consequences and don’t have a clue! Thankfully my psycho bomb is PMS induced and his is just, well, pure psycho. … That was the start of my week. I’m not sure yet if it got progressively better or just plain ole worse. My son was born February 22, 1999. That April my husband went in to get ‘snipped’. No more kids for the Aspenson family. That old TV show Eight is Enough should have been called Three is Enough because let me tell you, it is! So here I am, trying to make it through every second of every day with that bomb re-inserted back inside my stomach waiting to burst once again. I suffered through crisis after crisis. I was pretty sure I had the worst case of emotional PMS known to man, or shall I say, woman but still, no actual Aunt Flow visiting. I was late. “I’m pregnant.” kept floating through my mind. My husband said “No way it’s mine! Must be that soap opera guy who liked you so much.” Gee, thanks honey. I appreciate the support and trust! After a lovely conversation regarding the reality of that possibility, I felt much better, thank you. He on the other hand, wasn’t feeling all warm and fuzzy once I was through with him! See, the thing is, after having his little boogers snipped, he was supposed to go for a test once a year. You know the test, right? The kind where he gets to know a little plastic cup intimately? (Imagine me smiling and giggling right now!) Has he gone? Nope. He KNOWS they’re out of circulation. No need to get that test done. I continue to ask him to go because I know someone who had it done and eighteen years later he’s changing diapers and buying formula! So I spend the rest of the week walking around thinking “Holy cow! If I’m pregnant I will be delivering that child in an institution because there’s no way I can handle that right now! No way! No way! No way!” Imagine the angst I felt all this week! A fun week it did not make! And to add fire to the flame, General Hospital wasn’t making it on my list of great TV this week. Maybe it was the let down of being back to GH reality after getting to see all those cute actors last weekend. Who knows? But watching Greg Vaughn play Lucky instead of hugging women and chatting up a storm behind a table was a big let down. And to see Tyler Christopher climb into bed with Natalia Livingston instead of me was beyond heartbreaking. There were two good things that happened this week though, so I guess it wasn’t a total loss. I have received a lot of great emails from people about my columns and the GH Fan event. One lady was so sweet to tell me that Ted King will likely remember me forever. Sure! As the flappy fat armed lady, maybe! But the love of his life that got away? Doubt it. I haven’t received any negative emails, except from one woman that thought I shouldn’t pass judgment on Marissa Ramirez. She felt if I were going to say anything negative I should have made sure to include every actor who’s not been positive about GH. I would, but I don’t have enough time in each day for that! My five year anniversary is Friday, September 12th. My husband must have been feeling bad about his “It’s not mine!” comment because I am now the proud new owner of a 2004 Volvo S60! Can you say PRETENTIOUS? But who cares! I’m driving it and I’m happy and that’s all there is to it! Who’da thunk I’d be HAPPY to be driving a four door car? Oh how times change! … It’s now Labor Day and I’ve been trying to finish this article for about an hour. I’m having trouble with my computer and I’ve lost the document several times. Needless to say, what humor I had left was mysteriously deleted and is lost forever in cyberspace. I think my sense of humor went with it. To add flame to the fire I’ve started the South Beach Diet in an attempt to lose the fat on my arms so prevalent in each and every picture I had taken at the fan event (hence the reason I’ve not put any of my pics on line!). So I’ve been without my daily dose of sugary chocolate and frankly, I AM LIVING IN CHOCOLATED DEPRIVED HELL! I keep trying to convince myself this is withdrawal and in three days I’ll be over it but its day two and things aren’t looking very good yet. I’ll keep you posted but if you go to the grocery store and it’s depleted of all things chocolate, you’ll know I’m not doing well! I know, I know, a pregnant woman shouldn’t be trying to lose weight. She should be trying to GAIN weight, right? PFFT to that! I spent all day yesterday convincing myself it didn’t matter because I refuse to be pregnant. Thankfully today Aunt Flow finally came to visit and now I’m gleefully experiencing terribly painful uterus cramping and loving it! I bet most of you reading this know THAT feeling! So I guess I’ve learned a lesson this week. I spent months looking forward to going to LA and meeting all those hot men (except Billy Warlock who unfortunately was a NO SHOW!) and then it went by so fast and I came back to my world. My reality. Whiny kids. Hot weather making it too uncomfortable to cook. Frizzy curly hair. Flappy fat arms. A house to clean. Laundry. Class work for my novel. Pressure and fear of being pregnant. And so on and so on and so on. So maybe I’m experiencing the let down. You know what I mean? The “I just got back from a vacation in the Bahamas and now I have to get on with my life” let down. Sure, my husband is a hottie and my kids are wonderful but I experience them every single day of my life. I only got a brief 4 minutes to experience Ted King. Who wouldn’t feel a let down? Enjoy your week!
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