The Doctor’s Order

This last Wednesday, for about half an episode, I saw that lovely couple I’ve enjoyed for a few years now. You know the one; one half is a cop who tells horrible pick-up lines and the other half is a blond who’s in love with just how dorky he is.

Yeah, them. They were engaged, and the blond finally seemed secure enough to actually go through with the engagement. She was in love, and she wanted everyone to know, maybe even planning a party to share their good news. It was amazing, and such a welcome change from the past couple months of depressing self-doubt she’d been feeling. And then something wretched happened.

Yet again, the blond sat in front of a nice dinner waiting on her detective fiancé. Yet again, that fiancé ended up possibly hurt after rushing in to stop a crime in process. And my mood was spoiled. Half an episode of happiness—that’s all Dante and Lulu got. It’s really hard to root for a couple when they don’t ever get the chance to just be together anymore.

So Alexis is representing Sonny again. I could be bothered by how twisted this makes her morals. I could complain that Alexis having him bribe Harvard to accept Kristina, thereby resulting in this was all very convenient. I could do both those things, but then I’d be depriving myself of the right to thoroughly enjoy their scenes together, and with Alexis as his lawyer again, their screen time is bound to increase. So I’m making none of those complaints, and I’m thrilled to watch more Sonny and Alexis banter on my screen. Also awesome? Learning from Molly that Kristina likes to read Russian poetry. How very Cassadine of her.

I always love it when Patrick goes into threatening mode.

Something about him getting protective of Robin or Emma comes off as so manly! Perhaps it’s because threats are a rare occurrence for one of the sole men on this show who isn’t a police officer or a mobster, so the action seems all fresh and new when he’s the one to do it. Plus, the idea of a surgeon who’s unafraid to rush in and threaten the local mobsters is rather endearing—and they let him get away with it every time. Maybe because Patrick’s done surgery on everyone in this town, so they know it’s in their best interests to keep him around and keep him happy.

Whenever I see Michael roaming the shelves of coffee beans at his father’s warehouse, it makes me sad that he’s not still working at ELQ.

He gave up on that job way too fast, and I could see him eventually loving the ruthlessness that can come from corporate life, too. Heck, there could have been some nice parallels drawn between Michael’s life and those of the mobsters. Mostly, though, I’m just sad it means fewer excuses for Quartermaine scenes. Speaking of which. . .

I was pissed that Jason dumped that table. It’s not the Quartermaines’s fault that Sam may have been raped, and if Sam can keep it together, why can’t Jason? That was their first turkey dinner in years! I think ruining it is truly the greater tragedy here. And wasn’t Jason yelling at Franco’s voicemail the day before pretty hilarious? Steve Burton acted the anger and desperation just fine, but the idea of a hitman losing his cool on voicemail just cracked me up. How could I take table throwing seriously after that?

Also cracking me up is the idea that Kate Howard would wear this dress.

That is so very Connie from the Block. Where is my high-fashion magazine editor? When would she be caught dead in a boring black skinny mini dress with chains? I gagged when I saw it, and I am no fashion maven.

For the first time in months, I cared just a little bit about Luke Spencer. It was during this dialogue exchange:

Tracy: I care about you.

Luke: That means I’m not doing my job right.

It pulled my heartstrings to hear Luke still upset that anyone cares about him because he feels so unworthy of being cared for—and he’s not wrong about that, which makes it even sadder. Such a far fall this character has taken over the past decade.

Prescription for Better Soap: Don’t let misery drag out so long on the show. Let an engaged couple be legitimately happy for a stretch before dragging them through the mud—I need the time to root for their happiness before it gets threatened or I won’t be on the edge of my seat, hoping they pull through. Keep slipping Luke Spencer lines that force me to feel for him even though I think I’m past caring. And for the love of all things soapy, let the Quartermaines eat and enjoy their turkey one Thanksgiving. I promise to be grateful.

The Gourmez

Follow me on Twitter @thegourmez or on Facebook at my author page!
Pictures courtesy of GH-Caps.

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