Summer is my favorite time of year. Is it because I don’t have to deal with high school boys and their unrequited love? Partially. But mostly, it’s because I get to catch up on my soaps. Days of Our Lives, One Life to Live, General Hospital… I love that shit. What I don’t love about that shit? The fact that without fail, every time a woman gets pregnant, you never know whose baby it is.

            Have you ever known for sure of the baby’s father? NO! It has never once happened. And even when you, the viewer, know who knocked up this slut of a woman, do all the characters know for sure? Clearly not! And how terribly annoying is it when you hear everybody congratulating the man who isn’t the father? It just makes you want to squirm and force the writers to get the answer on television already!

            Of course, once they tell you it’s one guy’s baby, it turns out that that guy’s mom just wanted a grandchild, so she messed with the results of the paternity test (which they always take and stretch out for an entire summer). But then the baby gets leukemia, and the “father” isn’t a donor because he’s not really his father. So the other guy comes back into play, and as it turns out, he’s the father. For now.

            Okay, so soap operas themselves are annoying. But this is by far the most annoying concept.