Sept 2, 2003

Hola! (lots of Dora the Explorer in the house lately… I’m thinking the Spanish may come in handy if I ever chance a meeting with Lorenzo Alcazar one late night while walking the beat...I mean, you never know, and a gal can never be too prepared...;).  The Fashion Police beg your pardon for the lapse in column production, but the Dora fans have been running me fairly ragged lately.  A couple of two year olds really know how to keep ya busy, but hey, at least they’re fabulously mod… 

Mama’s Deputies 

My GH viewing has been sketchy, I have to admit.  I’m in half-watching mode where I’m satisfied if I catch every few lines beneath the drone of kid and kitchen noise.  Not so good for policing (and I just know there have been some serious citations going completely unpaid! Lydia is a freak mama!!) and definitely not the stuff of inspired commentary, but here goes nothing… 

The past few weeks of Courtney drama have left me feeling more than a bit uninspired.  Tally up another stunt pregnancy and a heaping side of redundant and inexplicable stories with no end in sight... While I clamored for a little more behind the scenes emoting from Elizabeth and Ric when they suffered the same fate (what was that, a month ago?), I’m already tired of seeing Jason and Courtney handle this blip in the radar of their luuv.  This “I blame myself for all of it and so do you, so DO you..dammit!” routine from Courtney could have a lot of potential, and I can definitely get on board with her manifesting a drug problem if it would somehow draw a parallel in Jason’s brain that made him understand that guy AJ (remember him?) a little bit.  Can’t really see that happening so I downright refuse to look forward to the further development of Courtney and Jason as they twist further into the self-serving and hypocritical world of General Penthouse.  Courtney’s kidnapping and miscarriage was extraneous and stupidly written.  Why is she infertile now?  Can’t they try to fix it?  Maybe Carly could be a surrogate and we could watch her pregnant again next year! Perish the thought.  No, seriously – perish it.  Seriously, did we honestly need (or want) to see another pregnant woman kidnapped?  Isn’t it time for the story to be that one of these chicks figures out it that it totally sucks to be hooked up with a mobster man?  Yeah, I know that’s what Liz did, but she seemed so reluctant about the whole thing, as if actually turning around and walking away from Jason was some forced plot handed down by the king of Port Charles (heh).  And then she hooked up with Sonny’s brother of all people, so her epiphany about the ills of a life of crime doesn’t really count in my humble opinion.  * sigh * ( But she’s still positively adorable and I’m at a weird point in my Liz affection where I can’t decide if I want her with Ric, Jason or Lucky.  That’s another paragraph though.  I was yammering about Courtney.)  I think Alicia Lee Willis is a terrific performer and a solidly hot woman.  She couldn’t have done a better job acting through the muck that’s being written for Courtney and she definitely does fine with handing multiple thugs their collective asses on a plate.  There is just a boatload of potential for good Courtney story (make her a cop, make her a cop!) and I positively suffer through watching her continuously victimized and yet continuously blind in her support of Jason’s lifestyle.  That was definitely Buddha on her t-shirt the other day, for whatever it’s worth.  I just noticed and thought I’d point that out…since um, this is a fashion column.   

I’ve recently become interested in a little HBO production called Project Greenlight.  For those who are unfamiliar, it’s an inside look at the concept developed by Matt Damon and ahem…Ben Affleck (yep, I’m decidedly shallow and not completely interested in the filmmaking stuff – I just kinda dig hearing Ben sounding all smart and business savvy…hehe), based on an online contest that allows aspiring filmmakers to submit scripts in order to be chosen for the grand prize movie budget of $1 million and theatrical distribution guarantee.  Anyway, I actually did become fascinated with the filmmaking stuff (see?!) and it upended me to realize how many changes a script and a reel of film go through from beginning to end of production.  And it really made me see how much of the changes are based on pre-release screenings, audience opinions, demographics and the almighty dollar. If polled audiences aren’t supportive of characters, word comes down from the studio to change that character, make them appealing and improve the score cards.  And Project Greenlight is about a movie that is trying to maintain it’s “independent” feel!  How does this relate to General Hospital (or its fashion? lol)?  I’ll tell ya ;)… Reading through several online accounts of the GH Fan Weekend, I saw that many of the actors repeatedly expressed that fans should write them at the studio to increase their characters’ screen presence.  The letters are counted.  LOL!  Can’t you just picture the ABC interns frantically reporting to Brian Frons… 

Intern #1 – 125 letters for NEM, sir


Intern #2 – 98 letters for ZEM, sir


Brian Frons – NEM it is then! GO with NEM!! Tell Guza to change that script. 

Later that day… 

Guza – Frons, I got Stephen Nichols back to work with Tyler Christopher. We got this Lydia on the scene.  We gave Emily cancer so that she could play Romeo and Juliet with that Brannon kid.  WTF is this NEM shit?   

Brian Frons – Make it happen, Guza.  The kids have chemistry! 

Guza – So, whaddaya want me to do with Stefan?   

Brian Frons (scratching his beard and squinting into oblivion) – How old is he? 

The question of whether or not fans have a voice has been answered.  We absolutely do and there is a simple formula for making it heard.  I intend to buy a book of stamps this very afternoon and sit down with a stack of envelopes in order to support a better General Hospital.  I want ABC executives to know that there is someone out here who appreciates the talent and creativity of actors and stories that are often not onscreen. Write to your favorite actors at the ABC studio address and be sure to include their names on the front of the envelope.   

(Billy Warlock)
c/o General Hospital
4151 Prospect Ave.
Hollywood, CA 90027 

Come on…DO it!!   It can’t hurt and my money is on it helping quite a bit if enough of us actually sit down and write. The way stories crop up and fizzle out in such a straight out of left field way, it wouldn’t surprise me if Coleman and Big Alice are doing the tango by November…hehe. 

Alright, so who else was reminded of the fairy tale “The Velvet Ribbon” when Lydia was wearing this horrific green shirt?   


Is anyone familiar with the story?  The man and woman marry and he finds himself driven to distraction by the fact that his wife never removes the ribbon from her neck.  She refuses to remove it and one night he cuts it while she sleeps and her head rolls to the floor.  Eh, I was probably the only kid reading such morbid tales, but I was driven to distraction by the contraption around Mrs. Cassadine’s throat.  How did she put that thing on?? How did she take it off?  If Nikolas were to assist her in its removal, would her head fall off?  That would be interesting!  Actually, I’m not nearly as annoyed by Lydia as I once was.  Perhaps because everyone treats her like so much dog duty on their shoes, I feel pretty sorry for her.  My first word of advice for her is to use a few clams out of her billions and get thee to a stylist, pronto! 

Some quick thoughts – 

Gia has a tattoo of Africa on her back?

Emily’s dark circles finally made her look a little sick.  Her newest form of nose crinkling made me feel a little sick. 

I totally miss Dillon’s wacky hairstyle.   

Emily and Elizabeth have a really nice friendship thing going on.  That was the most substantial thing that I gleaned from the idiotic hospital wedding.  It certainly wasn’t the nightgown dress, though Emily’s dream of dancing with Nikolas did produce a nice fairy tale gown, complete with a flowery wreath on the butt.   

Liz and Lucky look extremely hot together.  I think I’m rooting for that union.  Oh heck, I dunno.  I’m a Liason/LiRic/LnLRedux fan…I just really want to see someone be happy and sweet for more than an episode.  And Lucky’s performances don’t make me cringe when they’re shared with Liz.  Yep…LnL Redux, but you might want to talk to me about it again next week or after I see what happens when Liz touches Jason’s shoulder.  Fickle and know how it is.   

Because good entertainment is hard to come by sometimes, I thought I’d share something that has me cracking up lately.  A Baltimore/Washington based band called SR-71 recently recorded and released this’s tearing up our local rock airwaves but I doubt it’s getting much play in the rest of the country.  Anyway, the lyrics are a scream (and remind me of at least a dozen people I know, including myself sometimes, lol) and I thought I’d share them with ya. And noo, I couldn’t even find them on the ‘net so I did the ol’ 15 years ago thing of rewinding, playing, rewinding again and writing them down. Happy September!! 

Axl Rose


Where did you go, Axl Rose?


Angel lives alone, East Baltimore

Eviction notice stapled to her front door

Bleached blonde hair, fishnet pantyhose

God she wishes it was 15 years ago


Buyin’ her a drink, man

Anything you wanted that night (was alright)

Through cocaine tears and fifteen years

You know she sleeps alone tonight


Whoa Oh

Where did you go, Axl Rose?


Ricky lives alone, mother’s basement

37, got nothing yet to show for it

Heavy metal man with his long hair

Top’s gone but he’s still rockin’ the ponytail


All he’s got now is post grunge apathy

He says the Vines and the White Stripes

Just don’t get it for me

And my friends (Take me back then)


Whoa Oh

Where did you go, Axl Rose?


‘Til one night at karaoke

Ricky was kickin’ out Bon Jovi

Dead or Alive I think it was

And right then Angel fell in love

She knew they’d be together

Stuck in the past forever


She don’t care (she’s stuck in the Eighties)

They don’t care (they’re stuck in the Eighties)

We don’t care (we’re stuck in the Eighties)



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