“Hello, Scott? It’s mom…something’s happened, I need you to listen. No, I’m not calling from a bomb shelter. It’s something terrible… oh my god, I don’t even know how to begin to tell you… your brother, the one you haven’t bothered to visit since he was born prematurely…. Scotty, he’s gone! Sheila’s back and she took Fen. She had plastic surgery to look like Phyllis. Who’s Phyllis? Oh, she’s a friend of Michael’s. Anyway she… honey I don’t know how it’s possible to have plastic surgery like that and not look like a freak but she did it. Listen to me, you know she’s an expert in disguise. Remember the wig and false teeth she had last time? I know, I know it’s an unbelievable story. Ji Min is over at Indigo saying the exact same thing right now…”
A steady diet of the Sheila debacle, for me, meant hours spent perched on the crapper—thank god it’s over. I’m appalled, though, that it took only one bullet in the collar bone to stop “the sickest person who ever lived”. So anti-climatic, no? Maybe it was a silver bullet? Still, it would’ve been more sensational if Lauren came barreling through the door armed with a cross and bottle of holy water, which, I imagine, she would douse Sheila with before driving a wooden stake into her “criminally insane” heart. Now THAT would’ve been a great ending. I felt robbed to be quite frank, and watched with anticipation for signs of revival under the crude white sheet they used to cover Satan’s true instrument. So perturbed was I, that I dreamt Sheila got plastic surgery and came back as Roseanne Barr. Don’t laugh, Latham might be reading this.
In the lush confines of the Sunset Oasis Retirement Village, kidnapping, attempted murder, child endangerment, gun fire and property damage are putting the lives of the elderly at risk. Man, it was like Grand Theft Auto: Vice City in there this week! Tell all the old coots that if they’re tired of being washed away by hurricanes and blown about by tornadoes down there in the sunshine state, they can get all the excitement they crave right here in Wisconsin. The only way I’ll recommend that place to my granny is if I stood to inherit a sizable fortune from her estate. It’s all about keeping your hands clean, folks.
Job security for the working slobs in a city like Genoa is virtually nonexistent given that at any moment commerce could come to a grinding halt each time one of the family members of the town’s wealthy have a crisis going on. Lauren’s Bargain Basement Bin is sure to report crippling losses for the 1st and 2nd financial quarters. I know Fenmore is just a kid but he’s bad luck for the gainfully self-employed, namely his mother. Since Lauren spends all her energy at ‘The Bin’, I draw the conclusion that the bulk of her business empire’s profits are belched up from that little boutique. This does not bode well for the rest of the fiscal year. Unfortunately, Lauren’s business acumen isn’t the only thing that seems to be suffering from all this turmoil. I was horrified when she threw down her designer pocketbook so carelessly outside Sheila’s apartment after pulling out the gun. Couldn’t she have put it into the crook of her arm or something while pointing the gun at Sheila and Phyllis? All I’m saying is, it’s a good thing Michael saved up that lottery money, they might have to be living off of it soon.
Poor used and abused Sharon. It seems she can’t throw a rock in this town without hitting someone who doesn’t find the red, hot and foxy Phyllis amazing. She looked out of place up there at the Tacky House. And speaking of awkward, I’m sure all of us could see the writing on the wall when Jack started wearing his heart on his sleeve. After his ernest soliloquy in Sharon’s living room, how could she possibly entertain continuing a relationship with the guy? You could almost hear her battered self-esteem shattering into a thousand pieces. Stay tuned for the kidnapping aftermath with everyone sure to be fawning all over Phyllis and Summer to see how they’re holding up. I tell you right now that if Sharon were to slip and fall into an icy pond somewhere on the grounds, no one would miss her, not even Noah and with the kind of security they have patrolling that expansive estate it might be June, when the ice thaws, before anyone wonders where she wondered off to.
Carmen, honestly, you are pathetic. Is that the best spooking you can do? Complete Dru’s work and email it to Neil, steal her PDA and re-arrange chackis in her apartment? I’ve met puppies smarter than you. And Dru, did you forget your illiterate years as a street urchin fighting for bread? I’m sure you’ve seen it all so where the heck is your spunk, girl? You would’ve gotten Carmen for sure if only you thought to yank that gold leaf sticking precariously off the side of your hat and chase after her with it. How interesting to see Carmen’s mother bother to show up for the murder trial. No doubt, Chow sprang for the ticket? Although, it looks like the money well ran dry before tickets could be purchased for Carmen’s beloved brother and sister. I guess they’ll be following the trial’s progress in the press. I know I will.
Did I miss something? Did Paul open up a Guns Savings & Loan business and no one’s told me about it? Paul’s quite free about lending out his licensed firearms, isn’t he? I wonder if that’s the same gun he loaned to John that ended up killing Terrible Tom? That’s quite a body count he’s racking up. Yet another crime to add to his unsolved cases roster. I think Paul should get out of the private dick business, because, after all, he couldn’t find a hole in a doughnut if he tried. Now he’s asking the straight-laced, albeit, stupid, detective Sullivan to break the law and lie to the cops. Maggie, I know you’re horny, sweetheart, but you might want to rethink getting involved with this guy.
While Kevin was busy wondering which pasture his nomad girlfriend ran off to, Indigo was cutting into his coffee monopoly. Say whatever you want about Indigo’s lunch special but I really have to wonder how much of a future they have with cadavers popping up in back alleys and illegal aliens on the payroll. I thought that smarmy bartender who hits on everyone would be their undoing, what with the sexual harassment suits and all, but this, this is a whole different ball game. Cane sure is naïve though, for thinking he could come into the U.S. on a visitor’s visa and find his mother in three months with just her first name, Violet.
Really, something must be done about these “blind spots” that are cropping up all over Genoa City’s parking garages. Can someone please put a call into the Wisconsin Council of the Blind and Visually Impaired and inquire if seeing eye dogs can be had to compensate for this handicap?
