Wednesday, March 01, 2006

You keep on boinking, docs!

As I've written before, I think Grey's Anatomy should really be called Doctors #@$%ing. Watch the show with someone who hasn't seen it before, and try to explain all of the storylines. It's all about who's sleeping with whom, and by the time you make your chart and draw lines connecting each doctor to the other doctor he or she is boning, the entire hour will have passed. (And tell me that title wouldn't attract your attention in the TV listings.)

Anyway, it was already one of my favorite TV shows, but last Sunday's episode was one that will probably cement my loyalty forever, even if/when it comes close to hurdling over a deep sea predator.

For those who haven't been watching, a prevailing plot thread during the program's run has been one of those will-they-or-won't-they storylines that we've seen on sooooo many TV shows (including House, which thankfully seems to be done with that). Even worse, it's an unrequited love, with one character holding a scorching torch for someone who is both clueless to his feelings and in love with another doctor (whom she, of course, has already played "hide the salami").

This story thread has inched dangerously close to annoying, and in the Casselberry TV room, has almost relegated Dr. Lovelorn into a Ross Geller-ish whiner whom I'd prefer to see get hit by a very large truck which then backs over him again while the driver checks what happened. Except I'd rather not see him get hit by a truck, because he's an underdog I can't help rooting for. And my sister thinks he's adorable. With really great hair.

But the show's writers (who have an addictive blog of their own) finally put an end to the ordeal with some damn satisfying finality on Sunday. It didn't look that way at first. The hangdog guy actually got the girl of his dreams into bed, and they bumped uglies. But instead of turning into a flowery romance, like it often does in TV shows and movies, it got ugly. Really ugly. It was a guy's worst nightmare, and may have ruined a friendship forever. And hot damn, it was good TV to watch. Because these types of stories never seem to go that way. Not on the shows I've watched, at least.

So they already had me. But now they've really got me. Those damn doctors, their incessant fornicating, and the writers who create characters that believably change and grow through the course of their stories (here's the blog by Stacy McKee, who wrote last Sunday's episode), really, really have me. Like a forceps on a baby's head, man.