Ok, so it's Thursday, and I'm fixing lunch while I wait for One Life to come on. Starting with cliffhanger Monday, I had really been enjoying this week in Llanview, and I was in serious afterglow from Wednesday's episode- when all of a sudden, BANG! I hear this whiny, nasally, eardrum-shattering wail coming from the direction of my poor, precious TV screen. I waddle over slowly . . . carefully, because whatever's lettin' out this tire-screeching-down-a-blackboard yelp just has to be somethin' lost and in pain on some horror movie trailer that I don't wanna watch. I even look to the left and right, just in case it's our kitty Sweetness, yelping for attention. But the noise, you see, is not the Kitty-wail. Just as I'd feared, it's coming from twelve o'clock. Dead ahead. Oh God. It's gotta mike in its hands. Ug! I shoulda known. It's the ClawDia . . . [da-duuuuummmmm]
Whoever put a mike in that child's hands needs to have that mike shoved way far up where the sun don't shine, 'cause I'll tell ya, if you wanna send me to that Paradise City below, all you have to do is let that sound be the last thing I hear on my deathbed. Believe me, that's so deep a hell that begging for ice water is still two levels up on the right. In the words of my immortal hero, Charlie Brown, ((((aaauuggghhh!!!!))))
One would think, after having had Mary J Blige as a guest singer just two weeks ago, that O-Powers-That-Be would know what a good singer sounds like. But noooooo . . . And was it me or did that little Claw try to put some Blige in her voice? As if! And okay, if Tonio has been so far up Tessica's . . . nose . . . that he doesn't know what a good singer sounds like, then it really is time for him to hang up the barkeep apron and go back to cop school. Everytime I hear Claw's voice, I feel like somebody's raking all ten of their nails down a brand-new blackboard thisclosetomyeardrum. It's that bad. If ya missed it, count yourself among the lucky few. At 5:53 am on Friday morning, I could still hear the screeching in my ears and it caused me to shudder. That bad.
However, the rest of Llanview's week was quite a pleasant and fun romp through Soapland.
Loved Dorian this week. Okay, it's still kinda like being six and accidentally walking in on your parents doing the Wild Thing in the middle of an otherwise perfectly blissful Saturday afternoon, but I have to admit that I loved watching a bit of Dorian-the-Vixen licking her chops after a hayride roll with Mr. Clint Buchanan. Very nice. Robin Strasser's Dorian is like the aunt you go to when you really want to know the truth about sex and boys. Not that truth you get when you're eleven-and-a-half and all they teach you about is periods and sports cups. The truth you get, if you're lucky, when you're about twenty-five and you're embarking on your first real adult relations-type relationship with someone of the opposite gender. Or, the same gender. Whatever blows your hair back.
Whatever you need to learn, learn it from Aunt Dorian. By the way, are you envious of Starr? I'm envious of Starr. She's got Dorian and Viki. Chick's got it made!
And Starr . . . loved our own little cliffhanger Monday star. I was on the edge of my seat after seeing Starr, lying there with her little almost-comatose self, and her folks standing vigil over her. Broke my heart to see that this little fireball may have lost her little mind. Even part of it would be a sad and tragic loss. But if she gets better and starts fakin' it . . . hooboy! Oh, and speaking of the folks, did you not just lovelovelove Todd ripping through Spencer's living room while rippin' Blair a new something-or-other when he went to tell her about Starr?! The only thing I wish different was that he'd made Blair get dressed right then and there and taken her over to the hospital himself. Rip her right out of Spencer's room and over to the ER where she belonged. Somebody's gotta do it! I hate it that Bo and John are not stepping up this investigation 'cause just because no money changes hands, that doesn't make what Blair's doing any less than selling her sex. It's just that in this case, the money is information, and she's putting out a lot of flesh for not much payoff. Blair the Super Sleuth was cute in the beginning, but the longer it goes on, the more objectified Blair becomes - and the objectification of women is not my favorite thing to watch, even if it is just a fictional soap opera. Are Bo and John not cops? With as much circumstantial evidence as they have, could they not have petitioned a judge to A/V wire Spewster's room? I've seen RICO violators wiretapped for less than they've got on Spewster, and this is a freakin' suspected cop killer, for Pete's sake! Yes, soaps are meant to be pure fictional escapism, but I'd like a smidge of common sense in my cup of indifference; I can't swallow my suspension-of-disbelief without it.
Loved Tuc Watkins this week. The only thing more fun than watching Tuc play David is watching Tuc play David acting like a wannabe actor trying to not overact. David has been such a joy to watch lately! He is one of a very few veterans that TPTB actually allows to be so three-dimensional. Those are some really serious layers, and I think that Tuc does an awesome job of capturing David's Puck-ness while not sacrificing his ability to be drop-dead serious in the very next moment. TPTB would do very well to try to keep Tuc Watkins on contract as long as possible.
Hated John coming into the interrogation room just before David got a whole confession out of Lenny! David was thisclose to getting Lenny to spill all, and John moves in so he can . . . what? Take all the credit for getting the confession? If he had given David five more minutes, he would've had the whole confession on tape and Spewster in jail an hour later. Given what we've seen of John lately, this little misstep is a sad, but true, reminder of how unglued he really has become. Given the caliber of actor that Michael Easton is, it's a sadly true reminder of how TPTB ruin good characters by overlooking important details that could make a weakening storyline stronger.
Loved Kelly telling Kevin the truth. Finally! A soap opera princess who has a truth to tell her ex, and actually tells him. Hated the beating-round-the-bush "Duke's alive in here" thing, and also her not telling him that Hugh knows. First, because that just sets Kevin up for ugly and prolonged confrontations with Hugh - something that neither Kelly nor the baby needs, especially given that this is a high-risk pregnancy for her and given that she's still not fully recovered from major, major surgery. Second, because what she should've said is, "It's none of your business who else knows. This is my kid and I'm just being nice and giving you the heads-up on my pregnancy. Be grateful for that." (A little Aunt Dorian backbone, if you please.) And third, because her budding friendship with Hugh deserves to not be hidden from anyone, most especially Kevin. Kevin made his feelings known that night in the rectory. Alcohol or no alcohol, he's responsible for what comes out of his mouth - especially when it comes to what he says to the woman who's wearing his ring. He deserves no more breaks from Kelly. She's tried being nice. She's tried sympathy and empathy. It's time for Kevin to grow up, shut up, and deal with the life he created when he decided that making Kelly feel like dirt was better for their relationship than facing his demons like a Buchanan man ought to. From now on, he gets what he gets.
Loved Matthew and Nora this week. Nora no longer sounds like she's trying to talk through a straw, which is definitely a good thing. And I never get enough of seeing how very grownup Matthew is, so much more mature than the adults in his life sometimes. He is a master negotiator and he's got so much Buchanan in him that he has no problem calling his mom - or Asa - when they do something they know better than to do. I hope TPTB don't do that rapid-aging thing on him; I'd like to see him grow up the way we've gotten to watch Starr and pre-Bree Williamson Jessica grow up. That kind of continuity almost makes up for the blunders made by current writers who don't know their characters' histories.
Not sure whether to love or hate that the stalker has Adriana. I'd ask if she's gonna be the death that comes to Llanview, as the Soap Central Scoop tell us, but that might make me seem a bit eager. Yes, that would make her an object . . . blahblahblah. But, okay . . .you know you've got a stalker, right? So exactly why would you hop in a car with a stranger? So what if he says that he's the neighbor down the lane? He's a freakin' stranger! This is supposed to be a secluded beach! Secluded means nobody else. And, umm . . . so you do this incredibly stupid thing, this getting-in-a-stranger's-car. (Having done it and lived through it unscathed, I feel qualified to call it stupid, 'cause it is.) And okay, it's morning and you're still okay. You don't happen to look in the backseat? Don't you have to get out, go to the bathroom, and maybe stretch your legs after sleeping in an upright position overnight? At some point, don't your eyes glance backward - even if just to make sure your boyfriend hasn't spotted you - and you see the Screamsuit lying in the backseat? I mean, he hasn't stopped or reached back all night, so it's still back there, right? I knew Adriana was a bit daft, but not this much. If he's got her, then there's a 50/50 chance we might still get rid of her. Especially if he's a wannabe stalker who got incredibly lucky when some twisted sort hired him to stalk the chick he wanted to stalk. If that's the case, I want his odds, y'know? But then, that would mean Melissa Gallo would be out of a job - which might not be a bad thing, seeing's how they're wasting what may be a dynamic actress on a flat-panel character. I dunno Melissa's range, but it's gotta be broader and deeper than what she's doing; it just doesn't get any more flat than a character like Adriana.
By the way, if Dorian is behind the stalker, how did she know where to send the stalker? I thought the whole idea was that nobody was to be contacted so that nobody would know where they were. Right???
And how, in the Names of All That Are Holy, did Tommy's new foster parents get to be new foster parents??? They're not fit to adopt a puppy! So, okay, I'm thinking that Tommy's caseworker needs to be ground under Marcie's boot heels, and these foster parents need to spend a little time in my out-of-the-way sound-proof cellar. Why were the police not called when they walked into a bar with a baby and ordered drinks? I say, "GO MARCIE" for persistent tenacity in finding someone to help her document this particularly insidious form of child abuse. Some people think that if you don't beat'em and you don't curse'em or call'em names, you're not abusing them. WRONG! Having your kid out with you at any hour while you're at some bar ordering drinks is child abuse - so if you're doing it, quit! Believe it or not, yes: There are parents who do that. I've seen it done.
I'm hoping the Tommy storyline will bring back more of Cat Hickland, because I love Lindsay. I especially love her scrappy side, so I hope she gives R.J. absolute hell for his creepy Nora-side manner of late. So what is Lindsay, chopped liver since Jaime went to Tonio? And where is little Jaime anyway? Haven't seen the little cutie since sometime before Daddy's latest take-off-at-midnight rescue of Tessica from big, bad Nash escapade. I say, "GO NASH! Kidnap yo'baby and yo'baby mama from that tyrannical Tonio the Clueless! YOU GO BOY!" (Tonio actually does have clues, by the way - he just has fewer clues than everybody else.)
And who the heck is looking for Todd's other kid?????
I'm still wishing for that crystal ball . . .
Special thanks to Odessa, our Recap Writer Extraordinaire, and to all my new email pals! You all help make my job lots easier and lots of fun.
And another shout-out to Phil Carey! Several folks have written to say that you are in their thoughts and prayers, and that they are sending you love, healing, blessings, and best wishes for a complete recovery!
Thanks for reading, Everyone! See you in a fortnight!
Toodles!
EY
