First up, Scrubs, as JD’s life gets worse and worse (and yet funnier and funnier) as he now has to mention his “poo fainting” at every opportunity, as well as the scooter DUI. Loved that the big payoff for asking out the other doctor was a simple “No,” with no elaboration on her part. It’s a very JD thing to happen. Private Dancer as a recurring character is fine, I guess, but Delivery Guy getting an actual personality quirk (Death Metal!) and all the meta stuff (like Turk’s “narration” and JD turning down the stereo to narrate) really helped this one along. But wow, Eliot, what a bitch. He was totally justified in throwing that bitchin’ party with all the sideburns to annoy her. Speaking of sideburns, I’m rather surprised that the whole muttonchops fad didn’t end being a scheme to get JD to grow them and then pull the rug out from under him. I guess Janitor really was trying to start a new fad. An AWESOME fad.
Over to CSI, and may I just say that Grissom and Sara’s “shaving as foreplay” bit was really quite weird, and now I have to go wash my brain out, thank you. Oh, and pubic lice, equally yukky. Liked the case a lot this week, and not just because it featured Laura Harris of Dead Like Me in a role where she’s dying instead of reaping. No, I really enjoyed it because for the first time in a while I wasn’t 10 steps ahead of the investigation, and I was just as baffled as them by all the seemingly random clues strewn about and how they could possibly all fit together. Or maybe I was just too distracted by Hodges saying that the high-end camera had to be a “Nikon, Canon or Leica” because years of selling cameras makes me upset that someone would confuse Leica, who manufacture lenses for cameras, with Panasonic, who actually manufacture the cameras they go on. But maybe that’s just me, because I’m the kind of guy who watches them taking pictures at the crime scene and goes “Oh, man, they’re using a Nikon D-70, cool!” without a HINT of irony. At any rate, I have to wonder if getting run over and paralyzed from the waist down really IS enough punishment for shoving your boyfriend down and killing him, because really it’s terribly painful and humiliating, but at the end of the day you’re still alive and he’s not, so the karmic scales are still unbalanced. I would have thrown the book at her, myself.
Sidenote: 30 Rock is funny. Holy cow, I did not see that coming. Seriously, I would have bet money on Studio 60 being the SNL parody that had the better shot of surviving, but darned if I haven’t been sticking around for 30 Rock and laughing pretty frequently. You never can tell, I guess.
