General Hospital Week in Review
I couldn't even think of a theme for this week's review. There was so much going on, yet so little actually happening, and none of it was especially interesting. I already discussed the wedding of the...month, how crazily creepy NewAmelia is, and how "funny" Sam's storyline continues to be. By "funny," of course, I mean "painfully, horribly awful and unbelievable to the point that I believe there is a backstage competition to see how significantly worse it can be made on a daily basis." Then there's the JerryCraig ridiculousness, which I can't discuss in any detail because it makes Promising Ingénue's facial tic act up. So I'm left with very little, all of it random. I cannot promise any of it will be entertaining. But that's okay, because this is ABC Daytime, and we're not in this for entertainment.
Oh, hey there, Detective Rodriguez. I've been meaning to mention that I've committed a number of very serious crimes. Which we will need to discuss in detail. In private. We should also discuss whether it was wise to try to bring back the Clooney Caesar more than a decade later. I'm actually leaning towards "yes." However, I'm going to need to try to analyze this without letting my George-love taint the process. This will require you and me to spend lots of time together so I can try to forget him. Thanks in advance for your patience.
I'm having some trouble typing today because I have limited vision. This is because I walked past my TV earlier this week and POKED MY EYE OUT ON MAXIE'S SHOULDER BONE.
Kirsten, sweetie, SERIOUSLY, enough. We are very worried and were preparing an intervention. However, since in all likelihood we would arrive on set and be distracted by 1) the assorted hot men, 2) the many writers' shins in range of our stilettos, or 3) the security guards tackling us to the ground, any of which would have prevented us from completing our intended task, we've decided just to continue our heartfelt pleas via the internets. Please don't lose another pound! This Coop-Maxie pairing promises to get you some serious screentime, but you can't look like you'll break in half if he so much as winks in your direction.
I would like at this point to note that I would be fine with Coop winking. Normally winking is a dealbreaker for me, but Cooper could pull it off. He could wink while wiping his muddy shoes on my couch and yelling at my dog and I'd probably still be a-ok with him.
Something I never thought I’d hear on a soap: “You are not peeing on my butt!”
Since this is GH, I think we should just be grateful there was a negative somewhere in that sentence.
I must reluctantly admit that I enjoyed Jax and Carly's honeymoon scenes. I think the absence of Sonny, Micheal, JerryCraig, Sonny, Jason, and Sonny had something to do with it. That said, these two will be divorced by Labor Day. Perhaps if he had peed on her sea-urchin-stung behind, they could have formed a truly meaningful bond. That's true of all the great couples. But as it is, Jax is once again going to end up as well-tanned roadkill on the Carly and Sonny Highway of Dysfunctional "Love."
Speaking of Sonny's sex life (oh god, was I? the meds have worn off) . . . It's been a few days, but I still don't have the strength to discuss the Sonny/Amelia sex olympics in any detail. A near-stranger accidentally shows up at his hotel room, Sonny throws some terrible lines her way, she strips, and they have sex. And she just can't get enough of him. He cannot look her in the eye, and I don't think it's entirely clear that he knows her name. She finds out he had expected a hooker to show up when she did. She then jeopardizes her job just to have sex with him again. Seriously, how far up the ass of the character of Sonny Corinthos are this show’s writers? It's so disturbing.
I am, in general, a fairly heartless bitch, but dude, if you don't think this is even the tiniest bit adorable I think you might need therapy:
I wasn't watching during the whole Nik-blames-rape-victim-Emily-for-not-having- sex-with-him-and-causing-him-to-cheat-with-nasty-Courtney debacle. My standard rule with soaps is that if something happened while I wasn't watching, I can pretend it didn't happen. (What, like that's any less rational than half the stuff on daytime?) So I'm pretty much okay with this whole character rehabilitation, even if it does involve the most manipulative device ever, a cute baby. If Nik gets a puppy, I'm going to become a crazy fangirl. Tyler Christopher will need a restraining order.
Promising Ingénue is totally going to beat me up, but I must say, I thought Steve Burton was actually excellent in the hospital scenes today. That's the most emotion Jason has shown since Clinton was president.
This week, Patrick hotly tried to find a counter-toxin-thingie for Nikolas, hotly sparred with Robin about scientific stuff, hotly worried (hotly pictured above), and hotly performed CPR. It was a hotly full week. In the midst of one of their arguments, though, I became confused. Robin said:
"You know it’s a good thing you’re a doctor, because you would make a terrible spy."
What the hell does Robin SCORPIO know about spies?
Oh . . .
The cliffhanger was lame, in that there's zero possibility that Liz, Lucky, Nik, or the baby are going to die, right? Liz is more worrisome than the other two, since she's being cared for by the Ob/Gyn who isn't even capable of diagnosing pregnancy, but whatever, they're not going to kill her off. We cannot have one less person in town talking about how wonderful and pure-hearted Jason is.
By the way, is there a new rule that we have to have a montage every week, just because? I think I would like to incorporate this into my real life. At about 4pm every Friday, I'll call my colleagues into my office, pop a CD into my computer, play a little alt-rock tune, update everyone on my life, and leave them wanting more by dangling a "thrilling" question in the air (I'll write it on my dry-erase board) to make them want to come in on Monday: Will I clean my desk? Which will I pick--the manila folders or the purple ones? How many pairs of shoes will I be able to fit in a file drawer? Is my magnet poetry as genius as I think it is?