Well maybe not, but I wish I could be.
I had the utterly disgusting sense to sit through half an hour of The Bold & The Beautiful the other day and well, let’s just say that that’s 30 minutes of my life I’m never getting back again -_-
Seriously, I’m not even sure what the writers of these shows do anymore, as far as I can tell, they wrote a “plot” (or a vague resemblance of one – the way a Monkey and Tiger might resemble each other) at the turn of the nineteenth century and decided to regurgitate the same stuff and stick a different character’s name at the beginning of the lines (unless you’re that Brooke character, I don’t even know how her limbs are still attached and that she isn’t brain dead yet but whatever. Another blog post. She gets to do everything at the same time).
I thought I’d feel better at the end of the half hour the way The Brady Bunch promised me I would but I just barely managed to find the remote in my staggering shock induced state to switch the TV off and curl into a miserable ball of nothing.
I mean if I thought my life was borderline boring before, boy did I have another thing coming. I wailed and yelled at my insignificance and how a ménage à trois was so yesterday and ate half a tub of ice cream.
Now, not only do I not have Brooke’s amazing love life, I look like three of her rolled into one messy, blah ball of yesteryear attractiveness.
Ugh, I hate soap stars.