East Coast Gazette

Last season, House and I had a somewhat rocky relationship — by which I mean, it slapped me in the face with its cock. A lot. And after a long, long time trying to get over Officer Date Anal Rape and all the associated shenaniganry therein, I was back to way totally psyched to see the new episodes.

Under the cut are the following:

(1) Spoilers for the season premiere.
(2) A bajillion images. You’ve been warned.

At the end of last season the Ducklings all flew away from the lake and Father House said, “FINE,” and Mother Wilson said, “Oh for fuck’s sake,” and Crazy Dykey Aunt Pru said, “OMG LIEK OMG.”

We come back to Lake Princeton-Plainsboro to find that House has spent the interim doing, to quote Cuddy, “nothing.” She brings him a case — about a girl who was caught in a building collapse and is, somehow, magically, not doing all that hot — and says he needs to hire new fellows; he can’t do this on his own. House disagrees, they make a trade: if House can solve the case on his own, she gets off his back. Wilson thinks this is the stupidest plan ever, and I think, secretly, in her head, Cuddy is thinking, “Fuck off — my tits look God damn amazing.”

(1) Patient of the Week: Sorry, not doing it for me. I understand the concept, I adored the guy who played the caring boyfriend, the mother was kind of a strange afterthought — all in all, good work, and if it was any episode other than this one, I would have been all over Poor Crushed Brunette. As it was, I was kind of all over this:

Because House, without an audience, co-opts the janitor to bounce ideas off of, and guys, how sad was it that House was nicer to the janitor that he was to his fellows. In a giant act of televised oral sex to all the viewers, the janitor suggests it might be Lupus. (I wept laughing. It was really special.)

(2) Okay, no, but seriously, the real reason I didn’t give two shakes about the patient was the House/Wilson subplot this week. And I do mean House/Wilson. I mean, I honestly think that it couldn’t have been cuter and or more homosexual if we had seen graphic buttsex. Because I mean, given Larry Craig syndrome, picking up dudes and banging them doesn’t necessarily mean you’re gay, but breaking into houses with them and being retard cute totally means you’re married. They can do that in New Jersey, you know.

When House’s new janitor friend — known at this point to the grieving and terrified family as “Dr. Buffer,” as in floor buffer, because House is going to hell — has “principals” and won’t break into the patients’ home, House kidnaps Wilson to do it. By telling Wilson he’s taking him out for lunch. Which, frankly, really just means that Wilson is lucky he wasn’t kidnapped and sold as young, virgin rent boy ass as a child when somebody in a giant black van drove by and offered him a puppy if he got into the back, took off his boypanties and kissed the big man’s wiener. WHAT. I’M JUST SAYING.

Wilson: Not as easy as it looks on YouTube, huh?
House: (breaks the glass with his cane)
Wilson: I can’t believe I married this douchebag.

House pretends he’s in too much pain from the leg to swab things, managing to sound bravely mannish and vulnerably whiny at the same time to make Wilson sigh and crumble and shoo him away to do the nasty swabbing for House. (Reiterate: House — so going to hell.) Meanwhile, let us all observe this image and be honest in our deepest, truest of considerations: does Wilson dress to the left or the right? And, is part of the reason why House is a giant pain in the ass because he constantly has one from having Wilson’s enormous cock up his own?

When House reemerges from the patients’ bedroom with her diary, Wilson is sitting at the counter cutting coupons for a sale on Tide. It was like watching my parents. Only gay. Well, gayer. And, ignoring that this is somebody else’s home, doesn’t this just look like a domestic scene out of fanfiction? DOESN’T IT? GOD, CAN’T YOU JUST SEE?

(All comments about me being the Perez Hilton of fandom will result in summary executions.)

All joking aside, however, the awkward House and Wilson of late last season have disappeare d, and whatever happened in the intervening days and weeks since the Ducklings left have really smoothed out the bumps between them. The camera work in this episode was weird (think like, Cops crossed with Touched by an Angel) but it did well to show the body comfort these two have with each other again, the all over lack of boundaries, and how easy they are walking side by side.

(3) Obviously, Wilson is too busy being a benevolent distributor of death sentences to play Hide the Sausage! in dying peoples’ houses all day, so he decides to take action. Cuddy is trying to win a bet with House to get him to hire people. Wilson knows that logic is useless and that gambling isn’t House’s addiction of choice — he knows he has to take action.

Action in the form of…

…kidnapping House’s beloved guitar. And leaving him a little note about it:

House basically does a nonverbal, “Oh, FUCK THIS SHIT,” (OFTS) which is when his phone rings, and he hears a distorted, crackling voice on the other end warn him that if he ever wants to see his precious guitar again, he better not alert the authorities or, er, Cuddy. And House, pulling ANOTHER OFTS, goes straight to Wilson’s office, where he sees this tawdriness going on:

HOUSE: (bursts in)
WILSON: UH. (tries to hide voice distorter, which you know he totally bought off of E-Bay like, years ago and was like, GOD DAMN THIS IS COOL WHEN CAN I USE IT?) And uh can you bring me a Coke please? Yeah, uh, peace out, person who is uh, actually on the other end of the line. REALLY. HOUSE: I WILL CUT YOU.

(Not actual dialog. But closer than you’d think.)

(4) I think Wilson either got counseling on top of that antidepressant he was taking — OR — he got a pool boy.  WHAT?  WHAT?  STOP JUDGING ME.  What’s brilliant here, for me anyway, is that I think Wilson has gotten over his mid-life crisis and is actually having fun with it: whenever he references the kidnapper (himself) he always talks about what a diabolical genius the kidnapper must be — how bold. And diabolical! And diabolically bold!

Oh, yeah. Wilson’s a fucking criminal mastermind. It helps, of course, that when House sees this, he looks — well, he goes silent for a bit, and gets this look of helpless amusement and utter fondness on his face that made me curl up inside like a kitty and go purrrrrr purrrrr purrrrr.

So suffice it to say, the whole thing gets worse.

And worse. And worse. By which I mean AWESOMER. I’m not going to give you the rest of the blow-by-blow via giant pictures because (a) I’m lazy and (b) I’m running out of funny shit to say and ways of typing “OMG SO CUTE AHAHA YAY WILSON N HOUSE 4EVAH!!!” without sounding like I was brain-damaged.  But if you want to enjoy the eight million screencaps I took, everything is dumped into the content folder here.

House fake-pages Wilson (who meets up with some guy I will forever refer to as Cute Gay Man Nurse With Crush On Wilson Who Probably Blogs About It On HotGayProcAction.Biz) so he can toss Wilson’s hotel room, and when he realizes the guitar isn’t there, deletes Wilson’s telenovella (Wilson: “I’m learning Spanish — NOT THE SEASON FINALE.”) and that’s when Wilson says it’s on.  House says he doesn’t negotiate with terrorists.  At this point in the show, I was too busy having these like, blinding joygasms to really think too much about it in real time, but!

(5) What I really, really truly loved about this episode was the playfulness between House and Wilson, how yes, technically Wilson is trying to bully House into doing something for his own good, but at it’s heart, they’re two boys playing.  There’s something sweet about that, that telegraphs a wonderful intimacy to me, because as worried as House is about the guitar (justifiably) and as annoyed as Wilson is with House later HIDING HIS PATIENT (justifiably), there’s always a sense of “Okay, God damn House” or “Okay, God damn Wilson,” because it’s House, and it’s Wilson, and what are you going to do?  They’re your retarded bff from 25 years back and you love ‘em, even if they’re paging you at 3 a.m. and creating opportunities for Cute Gay Man Nurse to hit on you.

Oh, and the way this episode concludes?  I DEFY you not to say, “Oh my God.  It’s SURVIVOR.”

I loved it.  I love it.  I hope it’s tipping a hand toward what the rest of the season is like, and if it is?  I cannot fucking WAIT.