When I was in grad school, I would study all week and write my papers. I was so neurotic I had to have each paper finished and printed out the week before it was due.
Saturday was supposed to be my day to study. And I did. Luke and Laura returned to General Hospital. I have always disliked Laura but found myself taping each days show and would eagerly study each show, though I would fast forward the boring scenes which were many.
Somehow I developed a great love for Kung Fu: the Legend Continues, and never missed it. I kept on expecting David Carradine or his teacher to say something truly wise. They never did.
CBS had a great line up of late night truly trashy shows that I would tape to watch on Saturday. One was about a Vampire who was a policeman; another, my personal favorite was about a Judge during the ay, crusading vigilante at night. OK I know that I’m supposed to be better than this but…
I can point out many pivotal places in Beverly Hills 90021, and some show that was a rip-off of Baywatch but filmed in Santa Monica.
On Monday evenings I ran a support group for cognitive women in the nursing home. I had one goal. To get them and their wheel chairs back in their rooms so I could be home in time for Melrose Place. Again, I know exactly where many scenes were shot. Am I proud that I have seen every Melrose Place? Maybe.
The one truly brlliant show I watched was David E Kelly’s masterpiece aside from Boston Legal, Picket Fences. The first season is coming out on DVD this year. It’s worth anything.
I tried to get my Mom to watch it:
“I don’t want to watch a show about a small town.”
“NO, ma, this is different. It’s weird. I promise you will love it.”
She called me one day the next year:
“Why didn’t you ever tell me about Picket Fences? It’s the quirkiest funniest show I have ever seen.”
“Uh, ma, I told you about it every week last year.”
“But you didn’t tell me how strange it is.”
“I did, ma, I really did.”
I had begun calling my mother “ma” some years before because Rhoda called her mother “ma.” It annoyed my mother more than anything, as she thought that it was classless. It wasn’t that I wanted to annoy my mother but she relentlessly refused to watch the TV shows that I knew she would love.
She never watched a soap in her life, and couldn’t believe that I would tape all five days of GH which meant that I couldn’t tape anything not on ABC unless I was home. My mother was constantly angry at me for not being in love with Charlie Rose as she was.
As I was never home except on Friday nights and Saturday days, this did limit my TV watching. I would change the channels for the CBS shows about one week a month and hope that I remembered to change it back in the morning.
There did come a day when GH began to feel like a tenth rate Sopranos. However I kept obsessively taping and obsessively fast forwarding it. I finally realized how sick this was; just when I got a Tivo, and could tape anything, I gave GH up.
I had to give the Tivo up as I began to play games with it and would make it guess names of obscure French films. This game became more fun than actually watching anything
Life’s much easier since the invention of DVR’s. I can watch all the shows I want between 11:30 PM and 2AM, and actually feel virtuous that I have spent a full day accomplishing things, can fast forward all the boring or too gruesome parts. I never go into the bedroom until late at night as that room is a computer free zone. I refuse to even let my laptop see it.
However in the past three and a half weeks nothing has been more satisfying than being in bed watching TV. Maybe reading when I’m not sneezing. Once again my luxe apartment doesn’t have heat, and it’s becoming progressively harder to do anything.
However, thanks to persistent lobbying by Bone, I began to watch GH again. Not all the time, and I gave it up, I thought forever when Laura who I still don’t like came back only to go back into a physical catatonic state. This is a condition that could only exist on soaps.
The past week has been more exciting than I should admit, on GH, not my life, and Alan, Stuart Damon, the only true Prince Charming–Cinderella, Lesley Anne Warren and him, is dying. This is more heartbreaking than it should be..
Maybe this will be tacky, but I hope that in his final death bed scene, they will play “One day my prince will come.” Damn yes, I’m a romantic. Hopelessly romantic actually.