Tomorrow Still Comes….

“We have to watch All My Children today. Crazy Janet has Natalie in the well and I have to see if Trevor gets her out.”

With a statement like that is it any wonder I had to watch?  I was all of 12 years old, spending the day with my friend Christy, waiting for my mom to pick me up after work. We had been up half the night before celebrating her 12th birthday with the sleepover to end all sleepovers and we had probably only been up for no more than two hours.  I had barely watched any daytime before that day.  Even though my mom had been a stay-at-home mom until the year before I didn’t remember her watching TV at all in the afternoon. 

But Christy’s mom loved All My Children.  Had watched it for years.  And this past year, Christy had gotten hooked for her own reasons. So that afternoon, sitting in the loft area of their home, while her mom watched downstairs, Christy and I watched.  She explained to me who everyone was and when she got stuck, she’d yell down a question to her mom.  She’d answer and we’d move on with the storyline.  It took one episode and I was hooked. 

So I guess it’s Christy and her mom’s fault I can’t kick this addiction.

Oh I no longer watch All My Children anymore.  That got easier after Sarah Michelle Gellar left to slay the undead.  (insert your own joke about Jason Morgan and Dead Diego here.)  No the addiction I can’t shake is soaps.  No matter how hard I try. No matter how much less rage inducing my life would become if I would just unplug and stop watching, stop reading and leave the world of daytime behind.

I think about it when I sit there, slack-jawed at the stupidity and lack of logic.  A day where I don’t wonder how is I can remember a show’s history while a writing team with access to the show bible can’t be bothered to check on it.  A day where I don’t want to see the writers’ copy of the dictonary because their idea of “romantic” and “exciting” is clearly different than mine. A day without tumor-related visions being sold as the “most romantic story ever told in daytime”.  A day without praying for permanent unemployment for people I hopefully will never meet.

And I say hopefully because I seriously doubt I would be able to refrain from bodily harm if I ever do meet one Bob Guza, Jill Farren Phelps or Brian Frons. God forbid I see all three of them. 

I don’t know why I can’t kick General Hospital. Lingering affection for the level of greatness the show gained in the late 90s?  Perhaps. My unwavering devotion and weakness for the pairing of Lucky and Elizabeth, my first absolutely no hold bar full out shippage?  Doesn’t help matter for sure.   The occassional episodes that are mob free and therefore enjoyable? 

It’s not like I haven’t tried.  But much like the mob movies the show loves to rip off tell us, once I think I’m out, they pull me back in.  They tease my favorite pairing. They do a full scale old time full cast event.  They bring back Genie Freaking Francis.  They allow Greg Vaughan to be shirtless. 

But i will not deny that like many a GH fan… the show sometimes causes me to stroke out in rage.  And fold over in hysterical laughter at stupidity.  Roll my eyes at the complete lapse of logic. 

And that’s just from reading the spoilers/rumors.  Actually watching the show occassionally makes it worse. 

So in an effort to maintain my sanity…and to not overly annoy my friends who allow me to go on and on about this…I’ve come here.  Hopefully to make new friends…share new thoughts…expand my friend base….and a slight desire to get my opinion out there among a seeming sea of Jason Morgan is the Greatest squealers.