October 31, 2007
Come on over and taste my Creamy Zucchini
Linguini, made with a simmered lemon cream sauce and just a dash of threats
and habanero for flavor. It might come off a bit unbalanced but gives new
promise with every bite.
The dysfunctional Zacharras just might make
Sonny realize that he and his family are headed down a dark and desolate
path. Michael’s already shown psychopathic tendencies on a few occasions by
ordering a hit and demanding backlash for Leticia’s death. I know, I know,
wishing that the mob would fade away is like waiting for Lucky to catch a
clue but I do it anyhow. Did I hope that Jason would leave the mob when he
found out he had a son? Yes. Did I pray that Sonny was done with the mob
when he left Brenda at the altar? Yes. Did I believe that Jason could
happily run a motorcycle shop for the rest of his days? Also, yes. But I’m
willing to dream again since Anthony Zacharra is getting a Halloween edit
with the creepy music, foreboding lair, and comfy pullover sweaters Sonny’s
already admitted to seeing himself in the old man--probably due to his
glass-throwing prowess and dark-hued furniture. I’m surprised Sonny hasn’t
started calling him Daddy yet.
Didn’t Robin rip Lucky a new one for
arresting Jason the last time they spoke? What a lovely segue way into
asking for his sperm. As Robin didn’t offer an apology, we must assume that
they made up off screen. You know, the same place where Mac knits mittens,
Lesley plays baccarat with Mike, and Bobbie gets laid every weekend.
Correct me if I’m wrong, but wasn’t Lulu
terrified while being held hostage at the MetroCourt? She was so upset she
didn’t even pause to notice Alan having a heart attack on the couch. Yet
she hasn’t flinched any of the times that Johnny’s pulled a gun or while
being hauled off to Castle Greyskull under duress. I don’t buy it.
Once throwaway line and Amelia is gone from
Port Charles for good. She should be grateful; it’s more of a write-off
than Audrey’s gotten so far!
I think Robin blew both Jason and Spinelli’s
minds this week, which is quite an accomplishment. Neither man can
comprehend just why she would think Spinelli’s a good DNA donor. If he
comes through, Robin better start a savings account to fund her future
child’s Doritos habit now.
At long last, Liz told the lawyers to put a
sock in it, which I must admit, is a phrase I’ve never quite understood.
Was it a Victorian custom to stuff socks in the mouths of people who talked
too much? Regardless, it was refreshing to see her and Lucky return to the
sane people they both are. Has this whole storyline been nothing but Guza’s
diatribe against the law profession?
There is no reason that Nikolas would invite
Jax and Carly to his ball. None. Perhaps it was a forged invitation from
the mysterious finger of text messaging. And since when does Carly not care
about social events? She’s wanted to blend in with the upper class since
her stint as Mrs. A.J. Quartermaine. I remember how upset she was at being
snubbed then and I don’t believe her priorities have changed one bit. Her
IQ level certainly hasn’t—she’d much rather go to the ball than, oh, not put
her life in danger. Such a smart cookie, that Carly!
Seriously? Another car blew up? Guza must
want to support the automobile industry single-handedly. Chevrolet stock
fell due to rumors of a workers’ strike? No problem, we’ll just counter by
blowing more limos up in Port Charles!
I’ve got to head back to the kitchen and take
a batch of black & white cookies out from the oven. I’ve got an order of
twelve dozen for Wyndemere on Wednesday. I’m lacing in a bit of mood
stabilizer, should anyone feel a bit, oh, angry. Can someone make sure
Nikolas has one? You’d have the thanks of the citizens of Port Charles!
The
Gourmez
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