Soap Operas and Withdrawal

Yep, that's pretty much how I'm feeling at the moment.

No, I’m not experiencing withdrawal from soap operas. There’s no such thing, in my opinion. I mean, I can go 6 months without watching Days of Our Lives and be caught up on everything again within a week.

The withdrawal I’m going through is from nicotine. And holy fucking shit, I’m stabby. Really, really stabby. This time, it’s going to be permanent. I ran out of smokes last night with $10 in my purse to last us until next Thursday. We checked the gas gauge in the car, pissed away the money on horribly unhealthy fast food that was ohsovery delicious, and I smoked the last of my cigarettes after cleaning the house. Since I’m broke for the next week, I figure this is the perfect time to just deal with the bitchiness and the depression and the insomnia and quit smoking for good.

Have I mentioned lately that this shit is fucking hard? This is why it took me so long to start smoking the first place— I just don’t have the balls to live through getting over an addiction. Fuuuuuuuuuuuckfuckfuckfuckfuck.

I’ll work on my other bad habits after this one is out of my system. You know, once I can go 5 minutes without thinking about how much I want a fucking cigarette.

Anyway. I’ve been distracting myself with soap operas. Why, you ask? Because reality TV tries too hard, and because I need to be watching Days when they finally get their heads out of their asses and bring back Dr. Mike. And you know what? I’ve learned a few things while trying to figure out who the hell all these random people are.

She really doesn't have much to live for. Might as well end it now, get a teary funeral, and leave with dignity.

 1. Carly’s suicide would make an awesome storyline.

I know, that sounds really fucking mean, but let’s just pretend that’s the rebellious, pissed off addict in me talking. Seriously though? I don’t want to see a soap-opera-riffic intervention, or watch her find love (and Jesus, let’s not forget Jesus) in rehab. Fuck that. I want to see her give into the pressures of being ugly, alone, and second best to the Horton women in the eyes of… everyone.

I hope she gives me a shout-out in the suicide note. “Cyberhomewrecker” would be sufficient.




"Yeah? Say that a little louder, my hearing aid is on the fritz!"


2. This whole multi-generational cast thing they’re trying to cash in on?

Really fucking stupid. It was bad enough with Victor and Stefano constantly trying to outdo each other. Who wants to watch geriatric fucking gangsters? But add in a “sisterhood moment” with Julie and Maggie and you’ve lost me. As for the teenage storylines– if they’re going for realistic, they’re failing miserably. These kids don’t spend nearly enough time texting, ignoring everything around them, and making ironic comments that they think are entertaining when in actuality they just need to shut the fuck up. Granted, I don’t know much about what’s going on because they don’t show the teens very often, but still. Cut the crap and bring back Dr. Mike.


I couldn't find a picture of her with a halo, and I'm too lazy to paint one in.


3. Jennifer is a fucking douchenozzle. She comes off as that annoying friend who you hold on to and invite to things because she’d do anything for you if you needed her to, and because of that you’d feel guilty cutting her off. She is a great person, and that’s her downfall. She’s a Horton, and she’s Dr. Mike’s little sister (I like her because she’s one of very few women on the show that I know for sure won’t be found in bed with my future husband). She’s holier than thou, but she doesn’t have that attitude about her. She has that whole “I genuinely want to help you just for the sake of making the world a better place” attitude.

It makes me fucking puke. I mean, how am I supposed to live up to that when she’s my sister in law after I marry Dr. Mike? With lots of fucking nicotine, that’s how.



Then there are the questions. So many fucking questions. The most important one, of course, is:

When is this show going to get interesting again?

The easy answer to that would be “whenever they can get Mike to come back.”

In the meantime, they should really work on answering my other questions.

Who the fuck is Dario, and why should I care?

How many siblings does Rafe have?

Why did EJ and Nicole ever get back together?

Can I see EJ naked?

What’s Jensen Ackles up to nowadays? Any chance he could come back?

Since when does Vivian have a son? And why the fuck is he Australian?

Sometimes, I get a strange tingly feeling in my lady parts. What causes it, and how can I fix it?

Need another writer for Days of Our Lives? Cause I need a fucking job, and you need some new storylines. Just saying.



Psssh, I bet you thought that after a month of not blogging, I’d come back with something interesting. Ha, right. I’ll try to stay away from my blog in my withdrawal-induced craziness, but I guarantee nothing.


My love is toxic…

My boyfriend is dead.

He’s not the first, either.

Well, wait… maybe he is. I’ve had so many over the years that I can’t keep track of them all. Remember my love letter to Ike, the pirate/cowboy who didn’t say a word?

He’s gone.

His last moments...

I’m taking the devastation pretty well. After all, I only had a short time of loving him before he passed. I’m disappointed in myself for being angry at him when he died, though. See, he was inamored with another girl, and he died trying to protect her.

Poetic, isn’t it?

He took a bullet to the left side of his lower chest. If modern medicine had been available, I know he would have pulled through. He may have still had a tough road to recovery, but he would have made it. But he was shot in the mid-1800s, and all they could do was make him as comfortable as possible and sit with him while his life wasted away.

You know what really hurts, though? My husband knew that Ike’s death was imminent, and he knew how much I cared for the quiet cowboy. Still, he refused to tell me that Ike was going to die soon. I’m angry– maybe knowing that he would die would have softened the blow. However, my last moments with Ike weren’t tainted with his impending death, and there’s comfort in that. I suppose I’ll never know which way of knowing was better, being surprised or learning of his death before it happened.

I’ll miss him, as I’ve missed all the other boyfriends I’ve lost.


I loved them both.


There was Jake Fox, who was traded from the Cubs shortly after I fell in love with him. When I set my sights on Ryan Theriot next, he was traded as well.



He's adorable, isn't he?



Then there was Tony Romo, my quarterback husband who sustained a season-ending injury as I declared my never-ending love for him during the 3rd game of the season.






I suppose I could watch Supernatural, but it's just not the same.



I’ll never forget Eric Brady, the man who took Dr. Mike’s place in my heart after he was gone with Carrie. Eric was sweet and handsome, and he took his shirt off just often enough… But then he was written off Days of Our Lives as well.



I fear I may be responsible for the demise of all these men… They seem to go away as soon as I declare my love for them. I should probably just keep my feelings to myself, but what’s the point in that? Besides, Ike’s fate had been decided 20 years before I admitted my feelings for him.

I’ll never stop falling in love with these ideal men who inhabit my dreams. I can only revel in what we have while it lasts, and remember them all fondly when they’re gone.

I love you, Ike.

Remember this show? Yeah, I'd never heard of it before either.

Thank you, Netflix. I’ve been forced into watching an old Western series full of terrible actors and predictable plots for the past week.


Ok, it’s not that bad. Once I got past the whole being able to predict the ending in the first five minutes and the cliche-tastic dialogue, I kinda started to… *gasp*… LIKE it!

I know, I know. It’s crazy.

I had no idea this show even existed. Hell, there are even a couple of recognizable faces in the cast. And I’m not just saying that because Stephen Baldwin has the exact same expression on his face all the time. Happy, sad, angry, upset, excited, surprised– the expression remains the same.

That’s not why I’ve kept watching, though. Oh no. And it’s not because I’ll fall asleep if I go lay in my bed to watch Roseanne, either.

I’m watching for this guy:

He's adorable in a pirate/cowboy kind of way...

He’s so cute! Annnnnnnnnnnnnnnndddd… he doesn’t talk!

Cause really, boys just shouldn’t talk at all. They should fix stuff and get naked on demand, but they really don’t need to say anything.

I saw a glimpse at what Ike looks like now… I have to admit, he’s kinda creepy looking. So, I’ll just remember him in his cowboy outfit with his bald head and bandanna. And silence!

I love late 80s TV. They knew how to make a girl swoon back then. I guess it really is all about the overly dramatic music and painful, cliched dialogue.

*Image courtesy of

My crazy manifests itself in obsession over fictional characters.

Dear Dr. Mike:

I’d tell you that I love you, but you already know that. You’ve known that since I was 14. I’m pretty sure you inspired me to record Days every day starting in junior high… I just couldn’t stand to miss a second of you onscreen. I put up with all the other storylines (although if I remember correctly, they had some pretty good ones going then) just so I could see you. Those blue eyes broke my heart and made me smile all at the same time.

My true love

Just look at those eyes...

As much as I loved you, I always wanted you to be with Carrie. It was obvious that you wouldn’t be happy with anyone but her. Above all else, I wanted you to be happy. I didn’t want to see that indescribable look in your eyes that came every time she let you down. You never pressured her to leave Austin, though. You just weren’t that kind of guy, and I loved that about you.

I remember tearing up whenever you were upset. To me, that’s always been the telltale sign that I’m in love. You hurt, I cry. I thought that if I could just be there for you, be the friend who was always waiting for you in the shadows, I could somehow steal your heart from her. We’ll never know what might have been…

I vowed never to watch Days again when you left. What was the point? Sure, there was Eric Brady, but he just wasn’t you. The show kept me sucked in, though, and I was watching this summer when you came back for a few episodes. I know you’re busy with the new TV show now, but maybe if that comes to an end you could come back to Days. Or maybe you could just be on every now and then… after all, Jen needs her brother right now. And I need a reason to start watching again.

I just can’t let go of you. I still recall the scene in that barn after you and Carrie were in an accident… you took care of her and spilled your heart out to her, and she didn’t hear any of it. I wished you had been talking to me.

I don’t deny that my love for you classifies me as crazy. Hell, I’ve held a flame for a fictional character for over 10 years. I just can’t get over you. When I finally finish Finding Home and make it into a movie, you’re going to be my first choice to play Johnny.

I’ll always love you, Mike. No matter what.

P.S. My husband is fully aware that I would leave him for you. Just so you know.

Why can’t I stop watching?

So, I’ve been watching Secret Life of the American Teenager. I have decided that this show is pretty much the worst thing ever, yet I can’t stop watching. It’s a fucking train wreck. Just try looking away from a train wreck… it’s not easy.

I have one thing to say. And then a few other things to say.

First: Fuck you, Grace. Seriously.

She started off as the perfect little Christian girl. Then she decided to have sex with her boyfriend, and then she decided that was wrong. Then they broke up, and she started liking another guy. Then that other guy got another girl pregnant. And apparently that’s a huge turn-on for her. Then her ex-boyfriend got together with someone else, and she pulled the psycho bitch bullshit while trying to still be the nice little Christian girl.

Dizzy yet? Or homicidal? Cause I kinda am. If I knew this bitch, I would choke her.

It kinda pisses me off that she’s the one good girl on this show, yet she’s the single one. And the psycho one. Way to set a good example, ABC Family– if you’re good and try to abstain from sex, you’ll be left alone. Maybe it was that one slip-up that fucked her up… either way, this show just proves that morals get you nowhere.

I love how everybody’s parents are getting married at the same time. To each other. As in, former lovers are deciding to get back together and then thinking it’s a good idea to get married.

Oh yeah… one of the couples got knocked up while they were separated. Yeaaaaaaahhh… no wonder all these kids are getting knocked up. They have horrible examples all around them.

Then there’s Ricky the manwhore. I’m surprised that kid doesn’t have 7 kids by now.

And Adrian… oh, Adrian. That little hooker needs to have her knees sewn together. She got pregnant during a revenge fuck, and she’s one of those little girls who will go around fucking every guy on the planet just to piss off their girlfriends. They should have a fiction version of Teen Mom just for her. I’m sure she’ll make teenage parenthood really, really interesting.

This show is just taking on way too many issues all at once. Pregnancy, unstable parents, abortion, sexuality, relationships… it wouldn’t be so bad if they did it well. It’s kinda like The Sarah Silverman Show. She was too concerned with being offensive and ended up just not being funny. This show tries to be an after school special but they’re so concerned with covering every angle that they’re just teaching all the wrong things.

And then there are all the former big names. Molly Ringwald, Josie Bissett, I even saw Blossom… that was a trip.

I feel like I’ve lost IQ points every time I watch this show. And I feel like everyone should boycott my blog for writing about it.

But holy hell, I just can’t tear my eyes away from this train wreck.

Dear Ryan Buell:

I’ve been waiting to move into a haunted house just so I would have an excuse to call you. I watch you religiously every week, and every week I fall a little bit deeper in love with you. You’re just so adorable, and so complex, and so caring… and so fully clothed. What’s up with that?

Ryan Buell of Paranormal State

I can imagine what our life might be like together, what our weekends might be like… we could go around exploring abandoned places (my weakness). I’d walk around in fascination, trying to think of a story idea to accompany each place. You would walk through and talk to the spirits that still dwell there. I wouldn’t worry about you scaring me while we walked through like I would with any other guy on the planet. You’re not like that. You care just as much about finding out the truth as I do.

Ryan exploring a haunted house

I know you’ve been haunted all your life, Ryan, and I know that you don’t like to share that part of yourself with anyone else. I’ll listen when you’re ready to talk, though. When you can’t sleep at night because of all the spirits and the demons, all you have to do is wake me up. I’ll run my fingers through your hair as you lay your head on my chest and tell me about all the things you see. I won’t try to interrupt you with my own stories, and I’ll never doubt you.

And if you still can’t sleep, we can have amazingly awesome, screaming so the neighbors can hear us, unable to walk the next morning sex.

Remember that episode where you wore a black dress shirt and a silver tie that was loose at the neck? I have never wanted to jump into the TV and rip your clothes off so badly. I just thought you’d like to know.

I love you, Ryan. If you’re reading this, just leave a comment and let me know when you’ll be in North Carolina again.


P.S. When I start looking for a house, I won’t necessarily turn down one that’s obviously haunted. I’m still looking for my reason to call you…

Dear Tony Romo, my other husband:

Image courtesy of

I fucking love you. But you knew that already. You are the star of every sexual fantasy I’ve ever had, and I want nothing more than to let you bend me over the bed and have your way with me while screaming out all of your stats as the Cowboys’ quarterback.

What, TMI?

When I saw you hit the ground last night, I wasn’t worried. I’ve seen you take hits before, and I believed that one would be just like all the rest. And then you didn’t bounce back up like you always do, and I knew. I didn’t want to believe, but I knew. There isn’t much that can take you out of the game– I saw you try to go back in to play. But those damn trainers know what’s best, I suppose.

Image courtesy of FoxNews.

Football means nothing to me without you. And this Kitna dude? He sucks. Or maybe the offense just hates him, I’m not sure. I think it might be a little bit of both. I was so hopeful at the beginning of the game, up 10-0 in the first quarter and leading right up until they took you down… things were going so well. I was beginning to have hope for the rest of the season. A game like last night’s was shaping up to be is just what the ‘Boys needed to get them out of this early slump.

But without you, there is no hope. I don’t believe for a moment that you alone make this team, but you make this team work. You are the one they trust to get the ball where it needs to be, to call the plays that will get you all down to the endzone. Now, this 1-5 record looms before a team who is without their leader, and it’s like a noose. No matter what they try to do, they can’t salvage this season. It’s over.

But Tony, I love you. Obsessively. I know you’re too much of a player (for lack of a better term) for us to ever have anything permanent, but I love you anyway. I think you’re gorgeous and when you hurt, I hurt. I wanted nothing more last night than to be able to kiss it and make it all better for you. I hated seeing you on the sidelines in that sling, watching as your team was destroyed in what had been such a promising game. There are moments that define history, and the hit last night was one of them. Just remember that even when you’re not playing, I still love you. And also, that makes my husband jealous.

Sigh. I loved you first.