I am a strong believer in the idea that one can be [insert negative attribute] or one can be [insert a different negative attribute], but one cannot be [insert both negative attributes]. Like, a show can be ridiculously offensive or a show can be horrifically clothed, but a show cannot ridiculously offensive and horrifically clothed. But as with all things in life, GH not only goes against my wishes, but takes my wishes, sets them on fire and then laughs about it.
Since I don't have the energy to rant and rave about how much I hate the fact that Bob Guza can concoct ridiculous stories to keep Mr. Craig around but can't write for Robert Scorpio, or how I hate the fact that Epiphany's sole purpose in life seems to be bugging the everloving hell out of me, or how Scotty's confession to Laura that he killed Rick Webber had me almost hysterical with anger, I will, instead, focus on the clothing choices that had me laughing, crying, and dry heaving all at once.
