2003-10-17 @ 2:05 p.m.
|So Friday's shrink canceled on me. He wrote me an e-mail Wednesday night, saying Friday was out, but could I come in Thursday at 2. Of course I knew I was going to be in Married Guy's fond embrace...um, I mean on his massage table around then, so I had to cancel. I'm sure he'll feel rejected, oh but not really. I guess people just have to remember, just because I am on disability doesn't mean I don't have a schedule to follow or a life to live.
So yeah, I turned on a soap opera today, speaking of schedules. I don't have cable TV, and the image was snowier than a bar-b-que at the South Pole, but I could tell I was watching, "Days of Our Lives". I have not seen a soap opera in probably 20 years. I used to be a fanatic of that show back in the 1970's when I was in college. Had to be home at 12:30 to see how Bo and Hope were doing.
And then today surprise! There was Bo and Hope, looking all pensive. "He's a mad man, I say". My God, usually its the guys who age well, but Bo reminded of the husband in "American Beauty". Kinda boyish yet puffy looking. Hope looked like a poster girl for Botox. What the hell happened? They used to look so dewy and cute when I watched them.
And then the next scene had Alice Horton looking all horrified. And then a blurry image of MacDonald Cary undulating over a bed. He's dead, both on the show and in real life (I guess that would follow, wouldn't it?). She then said, "Tom, is that you? Tom, is that you?".
What acting -- bravo. Or maybe it was the editing, that made it so riveting. Alice (horrified), Tom (undulating), Alice (horrified), Tom (undulating).
And then they cut to a blonde girl in the bed just waking up (method acting for sure. Eyes closed. Eyes open, oh shit, one of my false eye lashes is hooked on the bedspread). She looked like she had just fallen out of a Vogue magazine shoot. Cue dialogue: "Grandma, am I going to die too?"
See this is what I've been missing on cable television. And I'm really busted up about it. I think that was Bo and Hope's great great grand daughter. The blonde girl. But I'm just guessing.
But did you ever notice how on soap operas, nobody is ever afraid to confront each other or sleep with anyone?
Boy, I wish it was like that in real life. Just walk around, always looking smashing. Never have to go to work. Get shot in the head, groin and left ventricle and then recover in three days to go to their kid's recital. It may sound noble, but we all know, the kid's friend's mother is a hottie, and there will be hot monkey sex in the broom closet during the "Barney" song.
I don't even know why I used to watch soap operas. I guess it was when I was young and idealistic. I guess life changed that. I can also say, without a moment's hesitation, that I have never laid a finger on a romance novel. Ever. Blecchhh!
I used to work at Waldenbooks long ago and I'd see these women come in for their fixes. Romantic pulp fiction junkies. These novels, and I use the term loosely, after perusing a few, would arrive at certain times of the months and these women would practically be panting and suggestively rubbing their polyester clad bodies on the front window, as we unpacked them. They even had punch cards. If you buy so many books, you would get one free.
I have one of those too, but its for Subway sandwiches. At least there, there's a little nourishment and substance. And they're not just empty calories.
Lyrics by Lennon/McCartney. All angst copyright by awittykitty