"But the more things change, the more they somehow stay the same. I was a bit depressed that my dad was knocked off on OLTL because we had a turbulent relationship. Then, on Angel, my new dad was sucked bone-dry by a pack of hungry vampires. So now I'm an orphan -- twice -- because in both cases, my mom was already dead. Remember how lousy my so-called 'relationship' was with Joey? Well, suddenly it's the same way with Angel. We've never kissed, we're not sleeping together and his blonde ex-girlfriend is coming back into the picture. Okay, so Kelly wasn't exactly a soulless vampire from the 18th century but in my opinion, she wasn't too far from being a complete bloodsucking creature of evil. I think it runs in that family of hers. And over the last six episodes of Angel, I've reverted back into my old 'scream-first / act-repentent-later' personality. After I grew my hair out again and apparently took a few more acting classes so I'd be able to convey a greater range of theatrical emotions other than 'bitchy,' 'really bitchy' and 'unbelievably bitchy,' I saw a chance to be a nice combination of tough and tender. But now, I'm getting forehead cramps from knitting my eyebrows at Angel every time he speaks to me, enters a room or just, well, breathes.
"I guess I'll figure it out when the new TV season starts. That, or I'll pack it in and support myself doing infomercials. Whatever. Anyway, since I keep getting letters from those weird yet beautifully coiffed people back in Llanview, I'll answer a few notes. Even when staking the undead, I still know it all. So there."
Dear Dorothy,
I have a son, somewhere, born out of wedlock and I'd like to find him.
Help!
**If he's a fungus demon, Angel may be able to squeeze you into his tight schedule but I warn you, he only works nights and you may have trouble coming up with his required retainer fee -- three pints of AB-negative, pasteurized.
Dear Dorothy,
Word is, I got sons poppin' out of the woodwork all over this damn one-hoss
town! Hell, ain't I suffered enough havin' a bunch of pussyfootin' cowpokes
like Clint, Bo, Joey, Kevin, Cord and my pore dead mean-as-snake gran-son
Drew doggin' my every move? These screamin' women, Blair and Skye, keep
sayin' Max is my boy but this Ben feller may be branded with the Buchanan
name, too. How in tarnation's name can I git all these dadblamed fools to
leave me alone so I ain't got to come up with anymore "Boy, you're shamin'
the good name of Buchanan" speeches?
**Again, if either Max or this Ben guy are of the demonoid/undead variety, Angel can help. I don't know about Ben, really, but if memory serves, Max is a big bloodsucker, right? Or was that Blair? Anyway, see how Max and Ben each react to direct sunlight, crosses, fire and your offer of a snifter of O-positive and then we'll talk specifics.
Dear Dorothy,
Can you help me find my mommy and daddy?
**Okay, wait - I'm sensing a pattern here.
FOC Dorothy - I mean, Kate - sharpens her stash of wooden stakes and says: "Well, I'm off to slay some rogue trolls who trashed downtown after the Lakers win in the NBA playoffs. Trolls, if you didn't know, are demons mainly notable for being short. Hmmm... Kind of like Joey. Heh heh heh..."
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Posted to rec.arts.tv.soaps.abc July 4, 2000
FOC Dorothy is Mandi (mandia@earthlink.net
)