A penthouse in Port Charles to a pineapple under the sea

News like that isn't shared lightly, but you know you have to.  I thought it better to get it over with quickly.

First, I texted LJ.  Yes, texted.  Because, well, if there was a chance either of us were going to become emotional, I didn't want it happening on the phone.  That would be the most uncomfortable moment in both of our lives.

"You see where Steve Burton is leaving GH?"

His reply was quick, pain-drenched, and expected: "Nooooooo! It's the first day of college football season and you had to go and ruin it." (Actually, he texted "football reason" instead of season, but as he only recently got his first-ever cell phone, I let it slide.)

We commiserated briefly.

Next, I texted Wolfgang.

His reply?  "Cool."

I immediately unfriended him.  Not on Facebook, in real life.  I can't surround myself with such callous, uncaring energy.

And so, as August gave way to the first tinge of fall in the air, I was already feeling the cold, cruel winds of winter.  For the day I had feared, dreaded, and hoped I'd never live to see, had arrived: Steve Burton, the actor who has played Jason Morgan on General Hospital for the great majority of my post-pubescent life, was leaving the show.

For so long, Jason has been one of my heroes, right up there with Mike Seaver, Luke Duke, and obviously, the Karate Kid.  I can't count the times I've compared myself to Jason Morgan.  He was often the voice of reason in Port Charles.  Somewhat remarkable considering he's in the mob -- er, coffee importing business.  And now?  He's leaving.

How will I cope without one of my heroes?  By bottling my feelings up inside, of course, in true Jason Morgan fashion.  Also by following Steve Burton on Twitter.  I don't know that it helps.  (Yes, it does.)

By the way, all this occurred over Labor Day weekend.  And yes, I'm just now getting around to writing about it, in true Bone fashion.  Apparently, posting five times in August left me scribically exhausted.

So I played laser tag later that weekend.  What, I was clearly disillusioned.  I've been trying to figure out how to smoothly transition between topics, but there's just no connection between Jason Morgan and laser tag.

Or is there? (Duh duh duuuuuuuuh!)

It was my first time to ever play laser tag.  And how shall I put this?  Well... I was dominating the dojo.



Did I mention I was mostly facing children?  What?  Most of them had obviously played before! 

Now I may have fudged on the rules a little.  They say "no running."  But I figured if things escalated to a physical confrontation I could take either of the three teenaged female game masters.  Or at least, outrun them.  And I did wind up shooting my own team members a few times, but thankfully that doesn't count against you.

At the end of the match, or battle, or recital, or whatever it's called, you push a little button on your electronic thingie and it tells you what your game name is so that you can find your score.

I finished 2nd!  And no, that wasn't out out of three.  There were actually thirteen of us playing, although I'm pretty sure a couple of the kids were too small to actually make their gun fire. 

My game name?

SpongeBob.

And suddenly, a new hero is born.

No?

Well, we gotta do something, because Frisco Jones isn't walking through that door.

"All I need / Is just a little more time / To be sure what I feel / Is it all in my mind / 'Cause it seems so hard to believe..."

Did someone grant me three wishes that I wasn't aware of?

I don't know if any of you have noticed or not, but lately I have been drifting, aimlessly. I had no center, no direction. Sometimes it felt as if I were merely existing, rather than living. Well, I finally figured out what was missing in my life. A girl? A family? Motivation? Ambition? A social life?

No! Seinfeld!

It was revealed to me a couple of weeks ago when I saw a commercial for the new season of Curb Your Enthusiasm. And what were they promoting but a Seinfeld reunion!

Of course. How did I not see it before? In the eleven years since the show went off the air, I still haven't moved on. Oh sure, I have a pretty steady thing going with The Office now, but I've never really gotten over my one true love. To this day I still reference Seinfeld every chance I get, to the delight of all, I'm sure. And somewhere in that deepest part of my heart which holds my most secret desires and dreams, I clung to the past, and a tiny shred of hope that someday there would be a reunion.

Now the day I have been waiting for, lo, these many years has arrived. My ship has finally come in.

Of course, Curb Your Enthusiasm comes on HBO, which I don't have, but thankfully you can watch everything online these days. Not that I wouldn't have ordered HBO or found some way to get it illegally. That's not to imply that I'm getting any channels illegally right now, nor have I or would I ever. What I meant to say is that maybe I could get a free trial period of HBO from my cable or satellite provider--whose name happens to be Mason. As in, jar, or Dixon. He can also start your car or get into your house without any keys. And he only accepts cash, or ammunition.

Now if this had been the only piece of good news I received all year, that alone would have been enough to make this one of the best years of my life--right up there with the year I got an Atari, the year I discovered Clorox disinfectant wipes, and the year I stopped peeing the bed. But more good tidings were yet to come.

Days later, General Hospital posted a message on Facebook that Jonathan Jackson would be reprising his role as Lucky Spencer beginning in October.

This had been my dream! For years, I told the Darryls and anyone else who would listen that I wished the original Lucky would come back. (Also, that Frisco and Felicia would come back, and Robert and Anna and the WSB, but let's stick to one dream at a time here.) I could scarcely believe my eyes. I even Google news'd it to make sure it wasn't a hoax. It wasn't. No more weird middle Lucky or lame third Lucky. (Sure, third Lucky has lustrous hair and rugged good looks, but I need more. The character had become about as exciting as an all-day scoliosis screening.) At long last, the original Lucky is returning!

I simply cannot believe my luck. It's as if a genie visited me while I was in a deep sleep one night and granted me three wishes, two of which have already come true. I'm bursting! We're talking Tom-Cruise-on-Oprah's-couch happy. No, happy as a lark. I'm a lark jumping up and down on Oprah's couch.

So let this be a lesson to us all. People may tell you not to cling to the past, but clearly that has been proven wrong. And sure, most hopes and dreams die hard, never having been realized or even chased, but... uh, I need something uplifting here. Hmm..... well, anyway.

As for my third wish? I have considered several obvious possibilities: A Wham! reunion; that Tab would make a comeback; that just once I could play the word QUETZALS in Scrabble covering two triple word scores and get the maximum 347 possible points.

But in the end, I passed them all over. Now I don't want to jinx anything by telling you what I finally decided on, but I will give you a couple of clues.

Clue #1. Two words: Brandon. Walsh.

Clue #2. Blank-0-2-1-0.

Happy sleuthing!

"I'm a genie in a bottle. You gotta rub me the right way. If you wanna be with me, I can make your wish come true..."