My life is so boring.
Note: Oh, it has not always been this way, no.
Previously my life was filled with amnesiacs who fell off bridges and were nursed back to health by misunderstood ex-prostitutes with hearts of gold. Nowadays, the only amnesiac in my house is The Hub who forgets to take the garbage out.
My life was a tangled mess of love triangles with outrageously beautiful people with outrageously impressive wardrobes. Now the closest thing to a love triangle around here is sneaking in an episode of Sister Wives when no one else is looking.
Note: I know, I know.
Once my life boasted heartless baby swaps, persistent brain tumors and the dead-coming-back-to-life. And everyone had six-packs and perky boobs and private jets and cash oozing out of their pores.
Sweet Holy Moses.
Oh, All My Children. How I miss you.
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