I wish my life was a sitcom. That way, everything and everyone will turn out alright at the end, because you just know. Shit will still happen, lessons will be taught and learnt, and punishment will be parcelled out and received accordingly but it will all be oh-so hilarious, conducted in the name of comedy and good ol’ family entertainment, featuring adult jokes on the sly. Orange juice will be drank directly from the carton by sloppy, loveable men, mothers and grandmothers will be terrible and legendary cooks, in that order, and sibling rivalry will be resolved by situations that call for unity. The token friend will drop by to up the comic relief and double the slap-stick, but mostly to make your unreal life real and relatable. There will be a wise guy, too, in charge of wisecracking like a well-oiled machine. And, if you are sitting at home watching my carefully-scripted-and-calculated-for-good-ratings-and-big-bucks life (to escape your humdrum one; duh), the laugh track will remind you to crack a smile or LOL a little because the writer or director liked what they did there, didn’t you see? Laughable as it is, some days I’m tempted to opt for showbiz creative’s marionette because it seems a hell lot easier than living breathing human being with free will and hey, I already know how to play a role because in real life I have to play so many!