The term soap opera has it's origins in the 1930's, when dramatic daytime radio shows were geared towards women as they cleaned their homes. Palmolive and Brillo paid for the programs to they could advertise to their core audience.
The term soap opera sounds so clean and wholesome. That is, until my grandmother found out I met a villain from The Young and The Restless. "What?!" she screeched into the phone. "You're going to hang out with that motherf***er?" I was taken aback, "Well, yes. I thought you'd be excited. You've been watching the show since I was a kid."
"Why should I be excited that you're hanging out with a God*** a**hole who doesn't even care about his family?"
"He's in the tabloids?"
"No, his God**** family on TV! He has a guard sitting outside his f***ing office and he won't even let his kids in to see his sorry a**."
"But you know that's not real."
"I know, I know. Just do your grandmother a favor. When you see him, slap him across his God**** snotty face."
Eric Braeden plays villain Victor Newman on The Young and the Restless. I don't watch soaps, but was thrilled to go to his party for the sake of my family. They would want to know everything, down to whether or not he puts in his toilet paper backwards. Mr. Braeden hails from Germany and had catered a gourmet spread of sausages, kraut and potato salad. As everyone mingled in his sprawling backyard, I noticed that his Pacific Palisades home overlooked the ocean. A stunning wall of mist flowed inland and thought of how lucky Mr. Braeden was. Barefoot and casual in his own backyard, surrounded by friends and admirers, he seemed to have it all. What with valets parking my car, the Pacific roaring behind me, top notch catering, gorgeous home and an adoring wife, it seemed perfect.
Then I remembered that delusional old bats like my grandmother would make sure he never ate a peaceful meal in a restaurant or be allowed to relax on the beach. Lurking in grocery stores and at malls everywhere, hordes of geriatrics are ready to assault him with oversized bags and scream obscenities until their dentures pop out. Knowing my grandmother, I realized that not only does Eric deserve what he has, but also a home in Germany, Long Island, an entire island in the Caribbean, and a fleet of yachts to get him there.