The Dope Box TV Blog

A mom and her son drive back home to pick up a forgotten hockey stick. The kid is upset about being super lame at the icy sport. He’s comforted by his mother’s observation that at least 3 other kids suck worse than him (solid parenting). When they pull up to their garage they see daddykins has decided to off himself via the stinkiest way possible: vehicular carbon monoxide poisoning. A little dramatic considering he has a medicine cabinet full of pain meds at his disposal, no? And, even more puzzling, why would he snatch five shirts off their hangers before carbon monoxidizing (totally not a word) himself?

Suicidal guy, Jeff, is in chronic pain and seriously wants to die. After being admitted to Princeton Plainsboro, he blows into his IV which, apparently, is not a great idea. He’s not only suicidal, he’s crabby, bitching at wife and son to give him privacy so he can squeeze his tennis ball. And, no that’s not a euphemism. Once quail poisoning is ruled out (could there be a whiter affliction?), House decides he needs to separate the guy’s nervous system from the rest of his body to figure out whether the cause is in his brain. During the procedure, Jeff tells House he’s lucky he doesn’t have a family. Because when House is in pain he doesn’t have to put up a front; he can be as unapologetically douche-y as he deems necessary.

Junior lies on the floor, screaming bloody murder, and everyone comes to his aid. Except House, who in addition to being an extraordinary diagnostician, can sense when others are over-acting. He snatches an empty bottle of isopropyl alcohol from Seriously-Let-Me-Frickin-Die guy’s hand. Next, on to a treatment that causes more harm than good: taking Jeff off the pain meds altogether. A strange solution coming from someone who pops Vicodin like they’re tic-tacs. Jeff wallows in agony for a while before his wife tells House to dope him back up and get him in decent enough shape for the ride home, where he can off himself for real.

Offsetting the heavy subject matter is a parallel plotline involving House’s bathroom plumbing. Fortunately, for many of you, this means we see House in a steamy bathtub massaging his leg. And that’s just for starters. Later, he uses his cane to poke at a soppy ceiling that inevitably collapses, pouring water straight down atop him. It’s House Gone Wild: Wet T-Shirt Edition. The plumber tells him the pipe was pulled, citing negligence, and insurance won’t cover it. So House does what any sensible home owner would do. He “accidentally” sets his kitchen on fire below bathroom pipes. And when that doesn’t work (since the burned pipes were actually his neighbor’s), he bribes the plumber to make a false claim so the insurance company can’t weasel out of paying. Plumber scratches his boys, giving House a Testicular Epiphany. The root of Jeff’s pain is epilepsy, which started in the part of the brain that controls the muscles supporting his testes. His gonads. His taters. His acorns. His…well, you get the idea. House also discovers that, after all his shenanigans, he actually is responsible for the pulled pipe, since he grabs it for balance when getting in the tub.

Thirteen has a problem with commitment. She doesn’t want to disrupt anyone else’s life by getting romantic so she’s avoiding Foreman. It’s thoughtful, actually. Not unlike a puppy, Foreman doesn’t understand the word no. He switches the schedules around so Thirteen can see the progress Janice (the advanced Huntington’s patient) is making. Yawn, yawn, yawn…Thirteen asks Foreman out on a date. He then finds out she’s on a placebo in the trial, which means she might as well be using leeches to cure what ails her. And so continues the Saga of Foreteen, a union as exciting as 3 Valium and a glass of chardonnay.

There is really no development on the Huddy front. Cuddy is frazzled by her duties as hospital administrator and new foster mommy. Differential diagnosis is held in Rachel’s nursery, where House boxes a stuffed giraffe, Cuddy notes House’s musk, and “clean, squeaky rubber nipples” get a mention before the two lock eyes. She looks fed up; he looks playful…apropos of their usual shtick. Despite the messiness of her home and hasty shoving of a dirty diaper into her purse, she is easily approved by the foster care fellow. Wilson drops by, with a giant duck, for an all-too-brief exchange with Cuddy. She’s upset that she passed by “their meager standard” and failed by her’s. He tells her women always set ridiculous standards that no one can meet. “You’re not superwoman. Don’t be a martyr.” Cuddy asks Cam to take over for her. Might we see a little Hameron action next week? Let’s hope there is also more than a lil’ nugget o’ Wilson.

“No hurry. I already bathed once this week; I don’t want to look elitist.” - House

House, Let Them Eat Cake, Fox TV series, Episode Recap & Review Blog

Emmy’s the kind of fitness instructor who enthusiastically roots for you while doing tummy crunches by your side; all pep, no bite. When a rotund man has trouble breathing, she gently guides him through the workout. She says things like: “Feel that burn? That’s your body carving out its new shape.” Her positivity seems to inspire the winded chap. Personally, I couldn’t help thinking: Someone should push her ass down the stairs. Shortly thereafter, Emmy loses consciousness and does a full-body roll down a dozen bleachers. I probably wasn’t supposed to laugh, but I did.

At Princeton-Plainsboro Teaching Hospital, the fitness guru is happy to do a stress test if it means she gets to exercise. She scoffs at the mere mention of indulgence. Yet again, this incites hostility within me and I’m delighted when the hag falls over. A scan of her stomach reveals that she’s had gastric bypass surgery. Slightly hypocritical, considering her whole career involves telling people to lose weight the “right” way. Taub seems irritated by the discovery and points out her duplicity. She asks whether he’d have a surgery if it would make him taller (a sucky hypothetical since that kind of surgical procedure actually does exist). His response made me chuckle: “Sure, but I wouldn’t call a meeting of the Lollipop Guild and tell them they can grow if they work real hard at it.”

When she’s certain she is going to die, Emmy asks for chocolate cake. Totally understandable. After a handful of misdiagnoses and some interesting tests (Poop: buoyant or not?) they arrive at a diagnosis that displeases her more than imminent death. She has hereditary coproporphyria, which is regulated by consuming a diet high in carbohydrates. House recommends finishing off the chocolate cake she started. Is there anything more awesome than a chocolate cake treatment? Rather than celebrating her cool excuse to pig out, Emmy opts to take medicine to treat the symptoms. She’d rather be thin and pretty than plump and healthy. The sick part of it is that most women would probably make the same choice.

Thirteen starts the clinical trial for Huntington’s and finds out her nerves have started degenerating. Foreman is suspicious when she’s consistently late for appointments. Using that reliable House-ian method to get around patients who lie, Foreman breaks into her apartment. Turns out she’s following the prescribed treatment perfectly. She’s just avoiding being near people who are visibly suffering from the disease. It brings up painful memories of her mother. Foreman tells her she needs to show up on time, regardless of how hard it is.

Jumping on the entrepreneurial train, Kutner starts a little online diagnosis business. For whatever reason, he lets Taub in on the details. The site is called: Dr. Gregory House’s Second Opinion Clinic with Dr. Gregory House. Just a teensy bit fraudulent. Taub agrees to keep it mum if he gets 30% of the profits. DeeDee, an online patient with lopsided boobs and hair loss, threatens to sue them if they don’t figure out what’s wrong with her. All tattooed and leather-clad, she shows up at the hospital, starts singing the Lime in the Coconut song that unites crazies and drunks alike, and begins bleeding from her ears. Which brings up the age-old chicken vs. egg quandary: Which came first, the Coconut song or the ear bleeding?

Cameron and Chase offer their help (though Chase requires a 25% cut) but keep urging them to tell House. Boob girl drops dead and House pays Taub and Kutner a visit in the morgue. He prattles on about how easy she would have been to cure and starts giving her chest compressions. She magically awakens from her stony slumber. Nah, the whole thing was a ruse, acted out by a thespian hooker who was hired by House to scare the shit out of Taub and Kutner. Now they have to cut him in for 50%. Don’t you just love a dead hooker hoax?

This episode was brimming with House/Cuddy interaction…

Since her office is a disaster, due mostly to the whole hostage catastrophe, Cuddy decides to share with House. During the differential diagnosis of Emmy, Cuddy interjects her opinions at a steady pace, cramping one particular curmudgeon’s style. And so begins their form of flirtation: a one-upping competition.

When Cuddy started playing with House’s ball, I knew testicle jokes would soon follow. While she’s on the phone, House loudly asks whether she’s seen his balls. She says she has them and he’s not getting them back. House gets rid of the furniture; Cuddy purposely spills hydrogen sulfide (which smells like a giant fart); House sledgehammers her toilet, then convinces a contractor to redo her office according to his plans. Installing a bidet instead of a toilet? Brilliant.

While Huddy breaks their sexual tension by torturing one another, Wilson offers each of them some solid advice. He tells Cuddy she chose House’s office because she wants a relationship, but sitting across from him “ain’t gonna get it done.” After House explains his plans to mess with Cuddy’s office renovation, Wilson wisely mentions this will only prolong their cohabitating. He tells House to just ask her out already. I love Wilson.

In a sexually charged moment, House accuses Cuddy of dressing sexy to tempt him. They get excruciatingly close and she says, “I think we’re supposed to kiss.” Since that step has already been crossed off his list, he skips the lips and cups a boob. She exits in a mild huff and is shocked to find her office looking…lovely. Her old desk from med school sits in the middle of the room. House? Making a sweeping romantic gesture like that? She’s all smiles and bounces her way to his office…where he’s chatting up DeeDee.

Frustrated? Don’t be. Yes, he has feelings for Cuddy, but he’s still House. Irascible, naughty, unpredictable House. He’s also a bit of a chicken when it comes to love. My problem with the final scene isn’t House’s actions; I expect him to be imperfect. I had an issue with Cuddy’s reaction. She’s tough. The whole episode showed she can go toe-to-toe with the cunning antagonist. Shouldn’t she just have barged in, kicked that hooker out, and tackled him? I find the shrinking violet act to be a bit of a sham, part of a subterfuge to further string us along. And it’s totally working.

“Is this fun for you? Analyzing everyone else’s fun away?” –House, to Wilson