"Oh my God they broke her...."
Aug. 19th, 2009 11:16 am![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
captainsblogNot my sister, don't worry. Jackie, in her on-demand finale.
Although I am writing this from the atrium of Lourdes Hospital in Binghamton, just outside the Laser Eye center, where Donna is having a cataract out today. What better place to write and worry about my favorite nurse in the whole world? Now I just need a nun to go by so I can raise my cup and drink.
Coffee, okay? It's just coffee.
Yeah, ally'all wound those tentacles pretty tight there. Kevin and Eddie were the popular steadies and the kings out in Queens in the bar. Zoey (who our cat is only partly named for) losing her smiley scrubs and much of her mind over Mr. Nutterman, and not losing her heart, at least not yet, to the only male character in this show so far who isn't gay, married or lecherous. Dr. O'Hara and her mom; Akalitis in the lift (c'mon, you idiot, haven't you heard of calling 9-1-1, or do you maybe know anyone else's phone number in that hospital besides the one for the characters in the E.D.?); and worst of all, Jacks hitting the pill machine and, in the worse frame of mind ever, hitting the pills. Or the worse than the pills. Right before the hiatus.
It took twelve episodes, but I figured out the meaning of Jackie's last name. I just couldn't Place it.
Plus, I've got more of a bad taste in my mouth than the morphine accounts for. Watching so much anguish in 29 minutes- between DarkScrub Side Zoey, Eddie's slow burn, but mostly Jackie leaving Mrs. A to practically suffocate in that elevator- is not what I fell in love with. Now knowing the finale was only half an hour and that the whole season will therefore fit on a single disk, I will go back and record them all, and savor the 5½ hours that I did love so much. And then I'll even record this shit.
Maybe Edie Falco just has a thing about weirdass finales.
Don't Stop Believin', Ray.
----
I was kidding about the coffee. They schedule 7:30 appointments and then don't open the coffee bar until 8, at least. This is cruel.
Fancy-ass construction going on all around, as the nuns add all the latest amenities to compete with the municipal hospital and the other local for-profit health care chain. Wouldn't want to disrupt that fine health care delivery now, would we?
At this second, wi-fi is not one of those amenities. I can understand, since I've yet to see a single patient or accompanist younger than I am. The only one who came close was the guy in the elevator up to this floor wearing a Marlboro t-shirt. Gee, wonder what his problem is?
The 7:30 appointment morphed into an 8:15 appointment. They're kinda quirky that way.
It's 8 on the dot. Coffee grounddddddddds....
----
3 hours later [cue harp sound effect and dry ice]:
All done. Back at Donna's house. Now just to get my nurse fixed, dammit.
Although I am writing this from the atrium of Lourdes Hospital in Binghamton, just outside the Laser Eye center, where Donna is having a cataract out today. What better place to write and worry about my favorite nurse in the whole world? Now I just need a nun to go by so I can raise my cup and drink.
Coffee, okay? It's just coffee.
Yeah, ally'all wound those tentacles pretty tight there. Kevin and Eddie were the popular steadies and the kings out in Queens in the bar. Zoey (who our cat is only partly named for) losing her smiley scrubs and much of her mind over Mr. Nutterman, and not losing her heart, at least not yet, to the only male character in this show so far who isn't gay, married or lecherous. Dr. O'Hara and her mom; Akalitis in the lift (c'mon, you idiot, haven't you heard of calling 9-1-1, or do you maybe know anyone else's phone number in that hospital besides the one for the characters in the E.D.?); and worst of all, Jacks hitting the pill machine and, in the worse frame of mind ever, hitting the pills. Or the worse than the pills. Right before the hiatus.
It took twelve episodes, but I figured out the meaning of Jackie's last name. I just couldn't Place it.
Plus, I've got more of a bad taste in my mouth than the morphine accounts for. Watching so much anguish in 29 minutes- between Dark
Maybe Edie Falco just has a thing about weirdass finales.
Don't Stop Believin', Ray.
----
I was kidding about the coffee. They schedule 7:30 appointments and then don't open the coffee bar until 8, at least. This is cruel.
Fancy-ass construction going on all around, as the nuns add all the latest amenities to compete with the municipal hospital and the other local for-profit health care chain. Wouldn't want to disrupt that fine health care delivery now, would we?
At this second, wi-fi is not one of those amenities. I can understand, since I've yet to see a single patient or accompanist younger than I am. The only one who came close was the guy in the elevator up to this floor wearing a Marlboro t-shirt. Gee, wonder what his problem is?
The 7:30 appointment morphed into an 8:15 appointment. They're kinda quirky that way.
It's 8 on the dot. Coffee grounddddddddds....
----
3 hours later [cue harp sound effect and dry ice]:
All done. Back at Donna's house. Now just to get my nurse fixed, dammit.