East Coast Gazette

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Suffice it to say that if I had a goat and an altar and a knife I didn’t care much about and enough testicular fortitude to sacrifice said goat with said knife on said altar, I’d be doing it right now chanting “Hooooooooouse!” and “Egaaaaaaaaan!” and “Shooooooooooooore!” and “Siiiiiiiiiiinger!” In fact, it would be this goat:

Don’t feel bad for it. It’s totally psyched about this, too. He saw the episode! And volunteered!

So any attempt at writing a coherent numbered review flew out the window as soon as Jane Adams playing Wilson’s 2nd ex-wife showed up — of course, I shouted at my television, “Hey! That’s Mrs. Ex-Niles Crane From Fraser! The Best Show That I Miss Like A Limb! Oh My God!” and House started his earnest stalking. But here is my best attempt.

(1) Patient of the Week: I’m really sorry Lupe, but I felt for you. I really did. I think her dilemma — “I thought I’d have more time” — is the dilemma that keeps me up at night. The greatest risk factor for death is being alive and honestly, even being young and in relatively good health, there are a small mountain of things that could go wrong and smite me from the face of this Earth. The ridiculousness and silliness of dying from a scratch of your bra hook is just — well, obviously it’s another reason why it’s hard out here for a woman, since aside from a few particularly unfortunate guys it’s mostly chicks wearing tit slings. But in all seriousness: her anger and frustration was real and understandable, and that final scene she had with Foreman was really sweet — there was somebody there to witness her death, to have known her life, and to have empathized and acknowledged her. It’s what we want; and I would say it’s sad Foreman didn’t love her, but I can’t help but think that he did, maybe a little, just in the span of that moment, love her as dearly as we can ever love another person, and found her loss to be unbearable.

(2) Ducklings!

(2.a) Chase continues to win! No deranged kangaroos flinging themselves at his car at 80 kilometers an hour is going to stop my little princess! Or his little princess, for that matter. His continued, casual reminders to Cameron that if she should check back into reality and be back on the boat for a piece of this, he’s available on Tuesdays nearly had me herniating something. Cameron’s bafflement was hilarious and sweet — and although otherwise she was a very small part in this episode, I loved her caring toward Foreman — I like it when the ducklings take care of one another. They are, I like to think, friends. It can’t always be Princeton-Plainsboro 90210.

(2.b) FOOOOOOOREMAN!!!!!!!!! MY GOOOOOOOOOD. It was a wonder I didn’t spend this entire episode weeping like a filthy bitch — between Foreman’s mother and the patient and his wrestling with the realization that he’d helped to kill a woman and that there was nothing he could do to ameliorate the situation. But I think the kick in the knees had to come at the end of the episode, when getting ready for his mother’s 60th birthday party she hugs him when he says he did something wrong, and says, “I forgive you,” only to follow up with, “I know you — I have a little boy named Eric, too.” I think every single internal organ in my body wrenched itself in an effort to leap through their flesh prison to fling themselves at the television and offer to comfort Foreman in that moment — although seriously: God knows what the fuck my spleen could do to help that situation. Seriously: Omar Epps was stellar in this episode, and he played it subtle and low-key all the way through the most wrenching parts — the only scene, to me, that clunked a little was the bedside confession, but that awkwardness is built into the situation. There’s no bedside confession as graceful and sleek as those we write in our stories, so maybe, for its discomfort, it was just all the more real. Really excellent all around. ALTHOUGH I DISAPPROVE OF FOREMAN BEING UNHAPPY. HE IS MY BEAUTIFUL BLACK MAN FUTURE HUSBAND, having completely removed even the last vestiges of Tay Diggs from my heart. (Shut up, he was hot on Ally McBeal — GOD DON’T JUDGE ME, OKAY?)

(3) I see that the money I have been sending to what remains of Miss Cleo’s Psychic Network to send vibes in the general direction of the House M.D. producers to let me have adorable Jewish Cuddy/Wilson babies is working splendidly! It also helps that they have really adorable bff chemistry. And sadly, when I say bff chemistry, I mean actually “best friends forever” chemistry. Where I usually associate House and Wilson’s relationship with one of those where I have a lot of long, intensely frustrated conversations using phrases like, “God, why don’t you just leave that son of a bitch! What kind of hold does he have on you?” (back to this later, ironically enough) — I think Cuddy and Wilson are good for one another. Their scenes together in the gallery was hilarious. Two words: bike pump. I know nothing about cinematography, but the way that shot was framed tickled the still painter in me to pieces — Wilson and Cuddy bent double trying to figure out what in God’s name somebody had put in some orifice. It’s like the ER, but without gloves! Lisa Edelstein and Robert Sean Leonard have a really fantastic chemistry together, and while I — reluctantly — admit I probably don’t want them to make out (I could be easily persuaded! really really really easily! come on guys! Take up this challenge once more!) House’s somewhat schoolboy jealousy and sullenness about the development of Cuddy and Wilson’s friendship intrigues me — as it does my roommate, who really enjoyed when Wilson made the comments about high school and I nearly fell off the couch having a joy!seizure shrieking, “I TOTALLY WROTE THAT. I WROTE THAT A LONG TIME AGO. OH MY GOD THIS IS LIKE SEEING THE FACE OF GOD.” — because I could go either way: House doesn’t want to share Wilson; House doesn’t want to share Cuddy. To be fair, given what a whiny fuckup House is, I vote BOTH.

(4) Okay, Jesus. Where do I fucking begin with House this week? I mean, seriously. Where do I fucking begin. I’d take a poll except I know all of you are too busy laying on the floor having seizures over you know, being right all this time about…well, everything. I know there are a lot of people who read into the House and Wilson relationship and specifically wretched repressed homosexuality — and while I do to a degree, I also think that they walk an uncomfortable line between friends and scary-close, and this episode was like cartography of that delicate relationship, mapping the barrier islands of the spaces between them without really being about the two of them at all — narrative brilliance. Let’s do this in parts, to do it justice.

(4.a) Mrs. Ex-Wilson the Second: Bonnie. She shows up very early in the episode, trying — we find out — to pawn off a dog she and Wilson bought on their honeymoon to Wilson now, years later, after she’s gotten her real estate license and has decided she no longer wants alimony. (The moneyjunkie — strictly business curiosity, not because I have any or really know what to do with it — in me is sickly curious about how much a month Wilson is paying out in alimony for potentially three wives. Plus we find out he’s still living in the hotel. God. BUY A HOUSE. DOUCHE.) Anyway, she sells condos; she’s moving. She’s moving on with her life, and she and Wilson seem to still have a tenderness and caring between them that bespeaks of the kind of divorce that was arrived at reluctantly, regardless of who’s fault it was (and it seems pretty obvious both parties seem to think it was their own, given the nature of this episode). House clings onto this immediately and starts classically stalking her — lying to her and making her think he’s in the market for a new condo. What’s telling about these turn of events are the following facts: (1) From the start Wilson tells Bonnie House isn’t going to buy a condo, and House agrees at the end of the episode (during that absolutely killer scene) that Wilson’s not the type to start giving bad advice and (2) All the history that comes out between them. House tries to remember where Bonnie and Wilson’s first date was; Bonnie tries to stay cheerful in the face of House’s dickface-ish-ness; she reminisces about her relationship with James. She talks about how he was honestly interested in being her friend, about how she initiated the relationship because she he was the knight in shining armor for her — until he wasn’t. She calls House on his bullshit. She tells him why she named the dog Hector — because she knew that early on she would have to resent House, and his implications and impact on her marriage to Wilson.

(LET ME TAKE A LONG BREATH HERE FROM MY SEMI-INTELLIGENT TYPING TO GO ALL CAPS ON THIS BITCH AND fewaoieru;ldksjfs;lfjkwaoeijsdl;kjfd A LITTLE BIT OKAY BECAUSE JESUS. WHY DON’T WE JUST START FLINGING TRAVEL PACKETS OF WET!!!! AROUND THE SCREEN.)

That last scene between the two of them was just — wow. Bonnie was bitter and hurt and right on the money, and I wanted nothing more than to give her some relief. It’s obviously taken her a long time to get to a place where she could be in a room with House for longer than five minutes without wanting to beat him to death — and now this. Really really wonderful.

(4.b) House, to Wilson: You’re addicted; Me, to television: !!!!!1!!!! House and Wilson in this episode were fascinating, and to one another what they must be day to day, peripheral and constant and constantly aware. They know absolutely everything that’s going on with one another — and others report in, slip each details, because Wilson and House — to borrow Susan Sarandon’s line from the U.S. remake of Shall We Dance — are witnesses to one another’s lives. Their girlfriends and wives and colleagues and patients have come and gone or only get pieces, but they’re locked in orbit and constantly reflecting — the moon admiring itself in the face of another — only you know, less gay. (But only by the tiniest margin.) I like that House called in a favor from Wilson to get a consent. I like that Wilson seems unbothered by House’s machinations, because he knows well enough to know that getting upset over something like this is pointless. I like how well they slot into place next to one another, so comfortable that even the scene toward the end, when Wilson stays up with House and waits for Lupe to pass — is a little colored in with worn comfort: Wilson handing House the coffee cup, and that tiny acknowledgment, the tilt of the head from House to Wilson, the arrangement of chairs. (I realize I’m starting to sound and read like Virginia Woolf here, I’ll do what I can to tone down my thrill.) The point is that they get each other, and that of all the puzzles that House has attacked, Wilson is the only one that keeps turning up new mysteries, to the point where House never assumes he’s done figuring it out. And Wilson — of everybody he tries to be a good friend to, House is the only one who hasn’t tripped him into bed and taken him to the alter. It’s the only reason they are still friends and not on the nightly news on the courthouse steps — because House hasn’t made a move yet. Oh my God.

GUYS. YOU ARE SO LUCKY I AM NOT PASSING THIS ALL TO YOU IN A NOTE DURING FOURTH PERIOD BECAUSE THIS WOULD BE COVERED IN SPARKLY PINK HEARTS WITH UNDERLINES AND THINGS. LIKE THIS:

To try and draw a conclusion other than “dslkfjweoijadlkjf loved it forever, loved it so much would take it behind a middle school and get it pregnant, still want Jewish babies sdlfkjsdlfkjewlkdsjflsdfkj sacrificing goat” would be kind of pointless, but suffice it to say, everything about this episode — from how the title was a delightful little kick in the knees to the fallibility of House as well as the ugly reality of Bonnie and probably all the other Ex-Mrs. Wilson’s wives relationships — to patient of the week was AWESOME AS AWESOME FLYING HIGH ON PURE CRYSTAL AWESOME. Top episode of the season so far, no question, and not joking: somebody would actually have to take somebody out behind a middle school and get it pregnant to top this one.

ETA: sldkfjdlsfkj HOW COULD I HAVE FORGOTTEN THAT HOUSE TOOK THE DOG? I WILL GO FLAGELLATE MYSELF FOR 3 HOURS AS PENANCE BUT HOLY CRAP FIRST STEVE MCQUEEN AND NOW HECTOR. AAAAAAAAAAHH. You know this means that House feels at least an eentsy bit bad about breaking up Wilson’s marriage, even if I bet you a thousand billion dollars he believes strongly it needed the breaking up.