Man, I want to be on 'Melrose'

In the past two months, I've experienced the wonder of digital cable. It's been particularly addictive after living without it for the entirety of last year. And with cable, I've been exposed to numerous channels devoted to single arbitrary genres. There's a channel for made-for-TV movies (Lifetime Movie Network), one for decorating and makeovers (HGTV) and even one dedicated to the least respected genre of daytime television -- the soap opera.\nMy first experience with "Soap Net" was Saturday afternoon, when I came home to find my roommate entrenched in a marathon of "Melrose Place." At first I was cynical, but she talked me into watching an episode with her. Eight hours later, I realized that I had completely lost track of time and unintentionally wasted an entire Saturday afternoon on the first season of "Melrose Place." The final insult was realizing that I had unintentionally formed an addiction.\nI had never been into "Melrose Place," which is probably a good thing considering I was eight years old when the series premiered. I was busy doing what eight year olds do, not sitting in front of a television zoning out to smut. But now that I'm an adult, I've realized the value of smut. And I've also realized that life would be infinitely more exciting if I lived in an early '90s melodrama.\nFor starters, I could count on being introduced to a diverse demographic of people. My clique would be formed not based on similar interests or activities, but on the pulling together of all ethnicities, races and sexual orientations. Each one of my friends would represent a piece of American culture.\nLiving in an early '90s melodrama would take the guesswork out of deciphering my feelings on various events, as I could count on the ever-present soundtrack of my life to inform me of what to feel. An intense electric guitar riff would signal that I had just seen something dramatic or life-changing, and I would respond appropriately with shock or anger. A soft, tinkling piano would inform me that something touching or sentimental had just happened, so I would know to shed a tear or two. Sexy electric guitar accompanied by drums would let me know that something smutty was about to occur. I would respond to this by immediately disrobing -- especially if I was in an elevator or someplace equally absurd for such activities.\nTime would never be a concern if I lived in an early '90s drama. Unimportant events would merely be discussed later as if they had happened without suffering the annoyance of living through them. They could also be summed up quickly by employing the handy montage device. All of life's most boring daily occurrences -- running errands, going to class, working -- could be taken care of painlessly all within the duration of a generic early '90s rock song. Imagine passing through an entire uneventful day in a matter of minutes all to the upbeat tune of a Toad the Wet Sprocket song.\nIf I lived in an early '90s melodrama, every conversation would be concise and interesting. I would never again listen for 20 minutes as someone told a boring story or recounted a trip to the post office with a complete lack of humor. Stories that weren't worth telling simply wouldn't be told, and all of the unnecessary details would be deleted from events that were worth being recounted. \nOf course, the more I thought about life in "Melrose Place," the more I thought about its downside. All of these perks would come with a price.\nThe concepts of monogamy and loyalty would be completely unheard of. I would have to understand that my husband, boyfriend and/or ex-boyfriends would inevitably have sex with every one of my friends, co-workers and probably my sisters, too. Of course, I would have to act shocked each time I found out, following the cue of the dramatic electric guitar. I would also have to accept that we would all continue to be friends. The good news, however, is any awkwardness or discomfort with the situation would be resolved in a matter of episodes and never spoken of again. \nI would also have to accept that sometimes people would just disappear from my life. They, too, would never be spoken of again. If someone moved out of town -- friends, neighbors, even family members -- then the tearful goodbye accompanied by soft piano music would be the last I ever heard from them -- unless, of course, they made a brief appearance in my life to improve ratings.\nLucky for me, I can live vicariously through the cast of "Melrose Place" and experience all of the excitement of soap opera life without suffering its pitfalls. And after spending a day with "Melrose Place," I've realized for the first time that the misery and misfortune of other people can make for damn good TV.