June 13, 2007  

On the menu this week:  Jerry’s Gelatin Salad, a mixture of pistachio jello, pineapples, and whipped cream so light and fluffy, it’ll cushion your fall out of a hotel window.  Need something to help you beat that summer heat?  Well, I’d offer you a soothing smoothie but Mike apparently can’t press two buttons at the same time. 

Seriously, though, Mike’s already a gambling addict who’s stuck behind the counter at Kelly’s and spends all day breaking up fights between the patrons.  Does he really need the degradation of being outsmarted by a blender?  We get it; Spinelli’s technically advanced.  I can do without watching him master kitchen appliances.  Death Match- Spinelli vs. the Blender of Blood: Will the Jackal be sliced and diced before he gets the lid on correctly?  Tune in next time to watch Big Alice step in and pull the plug!  

I’m can’t grasp why it’s wrong that Kate chose to put Bensonhurst behind her.  Oh no, a career woman who projects an image to sell her brand!  What a faker!  I don’t see Sonny blabbing to his “associates” about how he started out in the business by getting young women hooked on drugs at his strip club.  I’m sure that’d go over well while enforcing his no drugs, no prostitution rules.  Besides, if I had grown up listening to him say Connie Falconieri every two seconds, I’d have changed my name just to stop the nightmares.  Can’t say I blame her for refusing to keep that statue either.  If she left it in front of her mansion, she’d end up with a horde of yuppies at her door, hoping to get a table for two and an order of Chang’s Chicken Lettuce Wraps.    

Nikolas is embracing his inner Cassadine more and more.  Some might call his lack of emotion while dealing with Jerry or Scotty bad acting but I think Tyler Christopher’s going for a refined demeanor on purpose and that Nikolas is calculating his revenge internally.  I think we’ve been lulled into believing Nikolas will always be good-natured so that, someday soon, we’ll be blindsided when he embraces the inner monster of Cassadine rage.  For me, that would be riveting soap, especially if Emily became a casualty.  Heck, I’m giving.  She can be the lost Laura to his Stefan as long as she disappears for an extended period of time. 

Speaking of disappearing Quartermaines, where has Dillon been?  I know Scott Clifton’s leaving but I don’t think we’ve seen Dillon since before the news hit the soap rags.  For someone who was supposedly infatuated with Lulu, he seems to have ceded the game to Spinelli.  I guess he took Lulu’s rejection of his romantic movie date rather hard.  

I’m glad Alan’s still around but I wish he’d get a new outfit.  That sweat suit has to smell pretty ripe, even for a ghost.  Perhaps he could give a white sheet a try?  I’m a soap viewer; I need changes of clothes to entertain me or I might start thinking of things like how a court would never award custody to a 20 years ago ex-husband over a slew of closer relatives. 

It’s sad that Jake’s dive bar is the only place the late twenties, early thirties crew has to spend the night out.    I have to admire everyone’s exceptional tolerance, however—there’s been a least seven shots downed and the men had a head start.  I’d have been seeing stars two “lick it, slam it, suck its” ago.  Girls and boys nights out at Jake’s are becoming an annual event.  Maybe Elton will decorate the next one, Lucy will recite poetry in the corner, and Alan will sing “I’ll Be Watching You” on the karaoke machine. 

Next week, Sonny’s offering a cooking class on how to make his special marinara.  Be sure to eat before you come unless you’re hoping for a little koi harpooner to call your own.  Sonny, spaghetti, and a glass of wine are known for causing accidents.  

The Gourmez