Serial Drama

A Joy Retrospective for Soap Nerds

'Cause I am. A total soap nerd. Not that there were ever any illusions that I was cool or together or anything. (Though let's face it, there's only one soap of my many that ever makes me actually do happy dances.)

After the heartbreaking, heart-filling, weepily-wonderful of Wednesday's episode, I expected a major crash and a decent-but-no-biggie kind of follow-up episode. I was wrong! So much to love!

Téa and Tina, first of all. How cute was this? Téa all snuggly and sleepy, just waking up with her big giant teddy bear! Tina was bringing by flyers for her missing dog (c'mon, Princess David Vickers, you're out there somewhere!) and Téa was downright adorable about it. She actually looked really upset for Tina that she'd lost her dog (as well she should be)! And Tina was all heart in these scenes, the first time we've really seen that since she's been back -- and I'm thankful for it. Sure, Tina's a selfish mess, but she's also got a big old heart and it was good to see it again, and especially good to see someone else responding to it in a positive manner. 

And Tina pointed out that they're sisters-in-law and that she's there for Téa if she needs her. And they hugged! I am loving the idea of these two as friends. I do enjoy the friendship between Téa and Blair but, realistically, with Todd back and Victor out of the picture? We've got some rough roads ahead. Speaking of which, Tina mentioned that Téa seems to be taking care of everyone else and wondered who's taking care of Téa. I think we all know the answer to that!

Generally Uninteresting and Repetitive and Dull And...

It may never win awards for being the "best" show, or the most "well written" show...actually, it has won awards for both of those things which is a depressing fact I think I had tried to repress and which sort of disrupts the flow of this opening sentence. Well! What General Hospital will ALSO win is the award for being the most boring sixty minutes broadcast on network television; at one point today, I remarked (to nobody, which is probably a sign that I am losing it) that the show had been interminable and I didn't know how much longer I'd be able to sit through it.

Then came the mid-show bumper. I cried.

Much of the problem is, of course, that we've seen some iteration of all of these storylines--I probably should have thrown some sarcastic airquotes around that word, huh? Because these are less "storylines" and more "things that happen on an endless loop until the writers get bored or an actor leaves the show"--regularly since the late 90s. I mean, "Sonny feuds with rival crime family?" How freaking novel! "Dante gets shot?" He's only been on the show for two years! Why is he sharing so many scenes with de ja vu?! "Helena lurks around evilly and cackles madly in a story that's going to get forgotten in about eight days?" Been there, done that, Constance Towers is too good for this. "Michael is the worst?" It's a day that ends in -y!

All I'm saying is that I need something to happen. And right now, the only thing happening is my blood pressure rising whenever Michael appears onscreen, either barking orders or attempting to glower through puppy dog eyes. Don't get me wrong, it's nice to have a television nemesis now that Ryan Lavery is (temporarily) out of my life, but I wish SOMETHING else would happen on this show besides me getting annoyed and, I have to admit, developing an almost-crush on Ronnie.

Ronnie: You want to do yourself a favor, kid? Cooperate with the PCPD. Despite what you've been told your whole life, we're actually not the enemy.
Michael: Then why don't you do your job and find out who shot my brother.
Ronnie: Your father may think he's untouchable, but we already know you're not. You want to play games with me? I assure you, you will lose.

Did no one else have the urge to write his name on their Trapper Keeper?!

What Seventh Heaven Looks Like To A Soap Blogger

Or at least this one, anyway.

I'm unlikely to be able to be the least bit articulate because I have had a lump in my throat and a little lemon in my eye ever since about the thirtieth second of today's One Life to Live, so bear with me. But y'all. Holy Mother of God did this show get to me today.

First of all, Sam! Sam in adorable green PJ's!

And I just adore Sam and John in scenes together. So effing cute I can't even stand it. 

And seriously, this would have been enough for me. This show has been so exciting and fun lately that I'm just satiated, and a so-so episode that contains little Sam in a scene with John would make me plenty happy right now. And to add to that, Jessica and Brody had a nice grown-up conversation that actually reflected their history together and the fact that they still care for one another (and perhaps are less completely over than we think?). So again, this would have been enough. This would have been plenty.

But then this happened!

Blair (after thinking Todd was dead and then he'd woken up and she tried to put pressure on his wounds, after explaining that she'd seen a missed call from him on her phone): Why did you call me? Why didn't you call Viki or, or, or Téa?

Todd: 'Cause you're the one, Blair. You're the one. I know that you care about me. 

And I'm done for. Done for, I tell you!

At this point, I didn't even know if my heart could handle the rest of the episode. But I decided to be a trooper and continue watching.

Bad Dreams and Worse Siblings and Worst Mamas

Bo saved the day! A cop! On a soap! On an ABC soap! Saved the day!

And how cute was Bo running back into the house all disheveled and covered in leaves, and Téa and Blair rushing to dote on him and Blair giving him a big fat bear hug? 

Aww! Blair and Bo should hug more often.

Over in the Land Of The Never-Ending Paternity Secret, our matriarch asked her most red-headed daughter a pointed question today.

Viki: Is John's apparent lack of interest really reason enough to marry Brody?

Preach it, Vikster! (Sadly, the answer was essentially, "Yeah, pretty much.")

Bless Natalie's heart, but there are few things in this world less interesting than hearing someone else's dream described in vivid detail. It's just a little bugaboo of mine, so I really felt for Viki having to sit there and listen to Nat turn a simple task ("Mom, I had a dream that it turned out Liam was John's.") into a drawn-out explanation about how dreams are weird and they feel real sometimes even when they're not and how odd it was that the mail arrived in the morning in the dream. You know why that's weird? Because the mail arrives in the afternoon! This is an absolutely essential detail! Now the dream story just got really exciting! You know when listening to someone else's dream is really compelling? When you have the hots for that person and are featured in the dream and are hanging on every word to find out if your role in the dream might suggest that the dreamer has the latent hots for you right back. That's really it. Otherwise, get a damn dream journal!

Ending With a Bang and a Whimper

For as long as I can remember, talking soaps with people in my everyday life would lead to pity (on their part), discomfort (on mine) and the all too frequent use of the phrase "Oh, my nana watches that!"

Few people were ever willing to go on the record as watching, let alone loving, soap operas, so I was seriously flummoxed when 1:55 last Friday afternoon (goodness, has it been that long already? I really didn't mean for my mourning period to take quite that long! I was away last weekend and then apparently spent the rest of the week in sort of a cold medicine induced fog) came around and my phone practically exploded with All My Children related texts and Facebook messages.

"Are you all right?"

"How can that be the last AMC?"

"I can't believe it's over!"

"I can't believe JR!"

"I will never watch The Chew"

"What the fuck?!"

Some of these missives were, of course, from AMC fans and people concerned about my soapy well-being, but many were from people who "never" watched soaps, "ever", "at all"! I'm friends with a bunch of liars who just can't resist Erica Kane. 

Or couldn't, I guess. Couldn't resist Erica Kane and her enormous hair and staggering inability to dress for her age and climate.