When I was in college, Wednesday nights were sacred. The TV snapped on at 8pm (or was it 9? Apparently it wasn't sacred enough that I remember) and my friends and I prepared to worship at the altar of Aaron Spelling.
90210
(or Nine-Oh, to my friends.)
Even though I was an Andrea, I totally rocked the Kelly look.
But Nine-Oh was just the hors d'oeuvres, the soggy pig-in-a-blanket to the main course mac-n-cheesiest:
MELROSE PLACE
Melrose Place was awesome, because, y'see, after college I was moving to Los Angeles! Billy could be my roommate, and I could watch, mesmerized, as he practiced soccer shirtless and the pool of sweat collected in his strangely-shaped bellybutton (ew.) Allison would be my best friend, who would listen to me for countless hours while I crushed hard on Matt. I would secretly want to befriend Jo and would totally be taken advantage of by Sydney.
THIS WAS GOING TO BE MY LIFE AFTER COLLEGE!
College graduation, 1994. Melrose Place here I come!
Except that when I moved to Los Angeles, I soon discovered the only thing that Melrose Place, the actual location, and Melrose Place, the show had in common was that it was made of up 99% white people. The actual Melrose Pl. was littered with antique stores, ivy-covered buildings, and too many Rolls-Royces to count.
I've lived in Los Angeles for 14 years now, and my life hasn't exactly turned out like Melrose Place. There hasn't been any drama, like a whirlwind romance that resulted in us getting engaged after five weeks, and then getting married five months later...
Okay, but I don't have a crazy Kimberly who blew up my apartment building. I have a hoarding landlady who could possibly set the place on fire.
Maybe I don't live in Melrose Place. But I'm MP-Adjacent - at the Hobo Camp next door.
Melrose Place is back tonight at 9pm on the CW! And I may or may not be live-tweeting it!
You have been warned!
