I watched a lot of TV this week, folks, but given that I had not one, but two lengthy job interviews, one of which was so poorly managed that they wrecked my entire day’s planned schedule and I ended up missing all of work I do not have the spirit to talk about them at length — so, superfast run-through of this weeks hits and misses utter the jump. (more…)
House? You win. Seriously. I just — win. Lots of win. Will be elaborated on at a later date, also known as “probably tomorrow.” You are my emotionally and somewhat physically abusive rich husband who sleeps around a lot, but God damn do you hit me good.
Eureka? Not as impressed, even though I could hear psychic screams re: Michael Shanks’ guest appearance all the way from New York. You can’t let House beat you. House beats everybody, especially its wife (read: me), so I have to like you more. You’re the strapping, unaware and sexually alluring (yet innocent) pool boy who scoops my leaves, and who always wishes I’d leave my husband and stop drinking so much. You think I’m pretty, and like that I read books, etc. etc.
Bones? ILU!!!! You are my one true friend in this deathtrap, and we do pilates and talk about wanting to bang my pool boy together. Oh, and David Boreanez is so adorable in you, and even more adorable in conjunction with Bones — so adorable that I spent most of the episode making this noise: SQUEEEEEEAK. Also, I loved the moment where Bones finally confronts Booth about how he could have kept Zac from going and — okay okay, I’ll write it up tomorrow. Fine.
Last but not least:
NCIS? I really hate Jenny Sheppard. I also feel really bad for Jean since, and I am not even joking here, for most of the latter half of season four the only bearable plotlines on the show, for me, were the ones about Tony and Jean’s relationship. I wanted them to have unnaturally attractive children together — and okay, come on. I loved the twist about DiNardo. You know you didn’t see it coming, either. In conclusion: will write big OMG treatise soon.
(Oh, and today at work? I started to write something called “How Jane Sheppard Got Her Groove Back.” I think it’s officially time to hate myself.)
So I finally caught up with all my Eureka watching — SQUEE! I love this show, so much, so so much — and guys, I’m starting to get a little bit freaked out. I mean, is it just me, or could a good (and growing) case be made for both Jack/Henry AND Jack/Nathan? I’m only saying this because Jack kind of loves Henry in this wonderful, sweet way and Henry clearly loves JACK even though he’s all messed up in the head about it and then there’s NATHAN who clearly wants to slap Jack around a little bit but then kiss his bruises all better and GUYS IT IS RUINING MY LIFE OKAY? EUREKA WAS MY NON-SHIP SHOW.
I can’t help it: I love writing this crossover.
I’m betting that anyone who’s had the great misfortune of hanging around this journal or its previous incarnation(s) have heard me talking about Eureka quite a bit already, but I love it, I in fact love it so much that I would characterize it “like a fat kid loves cake.”
So you have to try and take that knowledge with you when you click on the jump and find out how I felt about yesterday night’s season premier. (more…)
• Eureka starts again soon. Whatchya gonna do about that, eh? Huh, huh? [This is a challenge, for those that are too drunk to figure it out. ;)]
Jack was man enough to admit that he wasn’t man enough to deal with John Sheppard on the warpath — hearsay though it was, the last time the guy had lost his temper an alien planet (God, Jack thought, I hate this town) had lost a few continents. John Sheppard, Jack knew, was not a guy to be fucked with.
It turned out that was true on two levels.
“McKay, you have to understand,” he said reasonably, “I can’t let you kill him.”
McKay clearly disagree.
“I clearly disagree,” he snarled back, pointing a very large and tantalizingly shiny weapon at Herman Rothschild — poet, artiste, experimental weapons designer for the U.S. military and maneater.
Jack raised his eyebrows. “Do you really think this is a fair punishment for you know, accidentally hitting on John?”
“Oh, sure,” Rodney said, furious, “because someone can ‘accidentally’ manufacture a gay bomb and set it off while locked in a room with someone else’s significant other.”
Frowning, Jack turned to Herman. “Did you do that?”
Flushing, Herman said, “There was only a 56 percent chance it would work.”
“And a 100 percent chance I was going to kick your ass for it!” Rodney shouted. “He’s still feeling up nurses in the medical ward — and they’re probably enjoying it!”
Jack sighed. “I hate this town.”
• Gibbs and DiNozzo undercover in a gay bar. (Also, Dear Whoever Wanted This: You and I are clearly soulmates.)
Gibbs had drawn the line at leather pants.
“I still think they would have been a good idea,” Tony whispered, lips close to Gibbs’ ear, and Gibbs looked over Tony’s shoulder into the grinding crowd and figured every other pervert in the room thought it would have been a good idea, too.
“DiNozzo,” Gibbs snapped, “no boyfriend of mine would be allowed out in public dressed like a streetwalker — capishe?”
Tony pouted. “Killjoy,” he said, and whirled around to the bar, glitter in his eyelashes. “I’ll have a blowjob, please,” he told the bartender, and Gibbs muttered, “Oh, for crying out loud — !”
“On BJ, coming up,” the bartender said, all business, and grinned. “I’ve never seen you guys around here before — new in town?”
Leaning over the bar, Tony bent over dramatically. Gibbs took some time to growl at everybody advancing on them, which he recognized defeated the ultimate point of the sting but he felt he had to draw the line somewhere: yes, Tony was pervert-bait, no Gibbs didn’t have to like it.
“Well,” Tony confided in the bartender, “new on the scene.”
“I see,” the bartender said, smiling, handing Tony his shot. “Here you go.”
Winking, Tony purred, “Thanks, handsome.”
“DiNozzo,” Gibbs growled.
The bartender, a man with excellent self-preservation instincts, laughed, “I go by John, actually — but it’s nice to meet you both.” He winked, moving down the bar, “Anyway — welcome to the Boom Boom Room; ladies night is Thursdays.”
More forthcoming!