October 24, 2006

This week’s entrée was a seared Ric Lansing, simmered in a broth of stewing Cassadine anger and served up with a side of labor.  It was tastier than you might have thought at first bite. 

I see a light at the end of the tunnel.  We’ve been subjected to months of Alexis manipulating those around her to do what she thinks she wants.  It’s made no sense at all and smacked of a woman giving up on life completely.  Well, today I remembered the Alexis I love.  The one who isn’t completely neurotic and is willing to fight to protect herself and her own.  You know, the one who plotted with Luke to off Helena.  The one who knew from the moment baby Kristina first moved that she had to keep her out of Sonny’ world.  Dare I say, the one who goes by the name Natasha?  I can feel the thrill of a Cassadine soul rising to the surface.  It was beautiful how she tore Ric’s case against Jason into itty-bitty shreds.  I could see her last vestiges of patience dry up as Ric tried to plead his second case of the day that Alexis is only with him because she couldn’t have Sonny.  The man must be close to insanity—he doesn’t have a shred of evidence for either case.   He’s desperate and Alexis sees it and is no longer going to accept it for her children. Which means she’s going to fight to live.  It is Alexis’ way or no way.  She’s a Cassadine.  They won’t accept less and we wouldn’t want less of them. 

Skye summarized both Luke and Lorenzo so beautifully in between contractions. I didn’t know labor brought such moments of true clarity.  I especially enjoyed it when she explained how Lorenzo liked to think of himself as a “tragic intellectual.”  So fitting.  If he does ever get over his mob lust, he should consider becoming an ob-gyn.  He’s got the experience, the cool head, and plenty of clients with all the pregnant women around.   I highly doubt that any women would prefer sassy brassy Dr. Lee to the charms of a Latin lov….err, doctor, I mean doctor.  Dr. A and the Women, anyone? 

There is no greater example of the limitations of GH writers than the “romance” of Robin and Patrick.  These two spark enough electricity to run the hospital elevators during their frequent breakdowns yet their only dialogue is “Aids, HIV, infection, Aids.”  That’s so romantic, it makes me want to swoon.  Egads, the conversations aren’t even logical anymore.  Dr. Noah and Dr. Robin wouldn’t waste two seconds worrying that Patrick might get exposed again to the virus.  Didn’t we just spend a month being told about how unlikely such exposures are and their near nil chance that such accidents would result in infection?  To act like Patrick wants to operate on AIDS patients as a thrill ride is ridiculous after all that.  There’s no thrill if it isn’t risky, which is what I thought we learned this summer during the GH AIDS Afterschool Special.  By the way, I’m going to be quite upset if Alan doesn’t fire both of them for badmouthing their colleague like that.  Way to ask for a malpractice suit.  Does Patrick’s superior surgeon skills come from sucking them out of his fellow surgeons?  Seems so being as he’s the only surgeon able to perform surgeries in the whole hospital.  That’s the real reason Tony died; Patrick sucked the life out of him to make himself “brilliant.”  Please, dear Soap Opera Godmother, let us actually have a whole scene between Robin and Patrick that doesn’t mention the disease.  Can’t you ban the words from the writers’ vocabulary?   Maybe throw a little scrubs seduction in there while you’re at it!  I don’t think I’ve seen any shirtless men since the blackout of doom. 

Anyone else know why Nikolas would want a cup of coffee before he laid down for a nap?  I’m stumped. 

The Gourmez