bad machine's blog

They say the only thing constant is change. Over time, the denizens of Seattle Grace Mercy West have shown they are all about change. McDreamy and Dark n' Twisty are happily married. Callie has forsaken her hetero f--- buddy ways and has a loving relationship with a lovely lady. The Chief is in AA and Lexie dyed her hairs. And now, Mark is starting to realize "Wham, bam, thank you, ma'am" are Bowie lyrics, and not a way of life. Did you feel that? Hell just froze over.

The adage "The way to a man's heart is through his stomach" is so obsolete, it's downright idiotic. Whoever coined that phrase was either a lonely, hungry blacksmith, or his mother. Today, it's a much more complicated journey. For Cristina, who has a raging heart-on for her mentor, Teddy, the way to her pumper is through her scalpel. For Teddy, who's still stuck on fellow vet, Owen, the way to her heart ran through downtown Baghdad. For exes, Lexie and Mark, the path is short and sweet because their hearts live in their junk.

At home, Meredith walks in on Lexie, who's waiting seductively for Alex McDeadinside. Rolling her eyes disapprovingly, Meredith warns her little half-sis, "Alex is like me, three years ago," adding, "Your heart lives in your vagina." Um, "Eat your heart out" just took on a whole new meaning for me.

For his part, Mark has been spending his time luring drug reps into supply closets, where they gladly give McSteamy free samples of their wares. Arizona and Callie are two of the few doctors in the Pacific Northwest in happy, adult, committed relationships, which makes them both feel magnanimous. Arizona extends the gift of friendship to lovelorn Teddy.

Arizona: I like to fix things, people. I like to fix people.
Teddy: Oh, no, no. Dr. Hunt and I —
Arizona: Oh, don't — cause then you're just lying and that's not good. The point is, you're staring and you're sad and I think that you need to be friends with people who are not Owen. And that's where I come in with the fixing. You're going to be friends with me.

Raise your hand if you want to be friends with Arizona. That's what I thought.

If there's one person Arizona doesn't need in her life these days, it's Alex. She's retroactively pissed at him, having recently learned he stuck his meat thermometer in Callie a million years ago. When he wants in on a possible lung replacement procedure, she tells him, "Oh, no. because you slept with my girlfriend and when I look at you, I want to hit you with a brick."

Local Girl Learns She Doesn't Actually Have Two Mommies

FALLS RIVER MA- Eye doctors at the local LensCrafters have found that a girl who goes by the name of Heather is cross-eyed and does not have two mommies, shattering a belief the girl (and general public) has held for most of her life. The tow-headed youngster appeared to take the news well, although there were a few tense moments when she was told she could not have a pair of frames like Rachel Maddow's.

Heather's one and only mother recalled receiving "Hers and Hers" Mother's Day gifts, teachers' reports about Heather's fascination with gay penguins, and being referred to as "Mama Jane" and "Mama Kate" on a rotating basis.

Expressing relief upon hearing the diagnosis, her mother said, "This also explains why she insisted she had a twin sister."

If you were to break into a genetic selection lab and collect the most detestable genetic sequences you could find (try looking in their medical waste receptacle) add low self-esteem, a tanning bed, a headband, and anything off an Ed Hardy clearance rack, and you'd have these idiots; the biggest tools this side of the wrench aisle at Sears.

It's Lecture Day at the hospital and from what I can tell, this is their version of Field Day or a pep rally. In other words, it has no point whatsoever beyond getting everyone out of doing rounds. Chief Shepherd's Lecture Series, "Big Cases, Little Doctors" promises to educate, edify, and elicit yawns from Anesthesiology to X-ray and beyond.

Callie will be presenting a case and she's pukey with dread the morning of. A stage. A live microphone. All those faces looking at her. That's a sphincter level of 9.5 right there. Stage fright is enough to make lesser people blurt out gibberish like "opposite marriage."

Arizona brushes the vomit out of Callie hair and assures her she'll be fine. Holding back your girlfriend's hair while she throws up is the most dubious of relationship honors.

"All you have to do is talk about being a great surgeon," Arizona says simple. Easy for you to say, Girl Who Cries When Confronting Authority Figures. Callie leans over to hurl for a second time. Imagining your audience naked doesn't work if you don't make it to the podium on time.

Valentine's Day is the day anybody who has somebody is obligated to show their love with flowers, cards, dinners and/or diamonds. It's not a rule, per se, but shopping stimulates our sagging economy and giving her a little something stimulates her desire to take her clothes off. It's a win-win kind of a thing.

At Seattle Mercy Grace West, things are hopping. A roof collapse at a romantical restaurant has sent patrons and waiters rushing to the ER with broken bones, internal bleeds and hard-to-remove scampi stains. Meredith, Derek, Cristina and Owen flip a bitch on their double date dinner when they see ambulances speeding in the opposite direction and their pagers start blowing up. Meredith and Cristina could not be happier, because given the choice between surgery and Red Lobster, they'd choose surgery every time.

Frankly, I'd go with the cheddar biscuits, but I guess that's why I'm not carrying tongue depressors in my pocket. Not for any sensible reason, anyway.

Once upon a time, there was an emperor who had no clothes. Well, no clothes save for a white physician's coat with a bottle of Jack in one pocket, and some mints in the other. One day, a handsome prince with twinkly eyes came to town in search of a razor and some shaving cream. He never did find that razor, but after a few years of living under the rule of the pompous, pontifical emperor, the prince overthrew the blowhard and ascended to a corner office. Some villagers rejoiced, while others worried they would soon be exiled with nothing more than their stethoscopes and slips of pink.

Changes abound across the land. Teddy, still stinging from Owen choosing Cristina's snark over her Iraq vet benefits, she replaces her rival with Dr. Vanessa Williams. Oh, honey. No. We know Cristina Yang, and you sir, are no Cristina Yang. Meanwhile, Arizona tells Alex that pediatrics is his true calling and drags him off to the lollipop ward, where it's "hard core" and smells like Fruit Roll-Ups.

Humankind's propensity to take an inventive idea too far has struck yet again. The first steam engine eventually ushered in 30 billion metric tons of carbon emissions. A simple drum made from animal hide led to Adam Lambert gyrating to the synthesized beat of his fabulousness. Now, in the year 2020, the world has finally gone to shit, thanks to Rossum and "the tech" that remotely wiped almost everyone on the planet.

The world's population has been reduced to marauding killers known as "butchers," zombie Actives now called "dumb shows," and "tech heads," who literally copy files to their brains using thumbs drives and ports embedding in their faces. For a company that sold expensive medical equipment, destroying civilization and all the health insurance that goes with it seems like a poor business model, but Rossum was run by a crazy person.

Sure as every post-apocalyptic dystopia is devoid of deodorant, McDonald's and dentistry, there are pockets of survivors. A woman named Mag, her wingman, Zone and a 10-year-old girl are three such lucky stiffs. While gathering water near a dirt road, they hear butchers approaching as stealthily as a herd of bison. Guns blazing, they tear out of there.

Mag asks the girl if they're heading in the right direction and calls her "Caroline." Mini-Caroline says, "I don't know. The last time I was up here, it wasn't this bad. I could see over the dash."

This is the episode called, "I Like You So Much Better When You're Naked" but it could easily be called, "I Like You, But I Like Others Things More." For Cristina, other things means surgery, for Alex, it will mean himself. For Meredith, it means secrets and for the Chief, it means drinking his face off.

Bailey is performing a surgery that involves putting someone's cancer-ridden abdomen through the rinse cycle, but instead of adding bleach, she's using liquid chemo of some kind. From the gallery, Callie, Cristina, Arizona, Teddy, and nameless extras watch. Callie waits until Bailey sees her (for the extra credit) and then announced she's outta there.

Callie: I have a headache. I need coffee.
Arizona: I have a cure for headache that doesn't involve coffee.

Homo-pathic medicine, if you will.

Two years ago, Caroline tried to blow up Rossum, got pinched, and met its evil mastermind, Boyd. We should have known it was Boyd all along. Boyd is an anagram for "body." However you spell it, Boyd is a bad boy.

He tells Caroline that Rossum is not only the world's largest manufacturer of MRI machines and fancy medical doo-dads, it monitors every person who passes through its devices and keeps track of all the data. We're supposed to believe this level of competence exists, even though your health insurance company lost your claim and no one can find Osama Bin Laden.

Instead of putting a bullet in her pretty face, Boyd tells Caroline she either can become an Active or be given the death penalty for terrorism. He admits he'd rather she work for him; she's worth more alive in ways he doesn't explain. "You'll learn to trust me," he says, as if she has a choice.

And we're back. Last year seems like a lifetime ago, which makes sense because the shenanigans at Seattle Mercy Grace West are not unlike a Lifetime movie. Chief Do-As-I-Say, Not-As-I-Do is off the wagon, but only Meredith has seen the shame of his swaying by the jukebox, mumbling the words to "Bad Romance." Mark and Lexie are still playing parents to his iPod-wearing, baby-carrying, brat of a daughter, Sloan. Owen has chosen Cristina, much to Teddy's dismay. She teaches Cristina how to spot the bleeders in the operating room, all the while, she's bleeding into her shoes.

These days, Lexie feels like the odd girl out, too. Just when she thought life was coming together for her — hot boyfriend, kick-ass apartment, friends across the hall, less spazzing out at work — in walks Mark's surprise daughter, Sloan. Nothing like a bit of trailer trash with a baby bump to ruin your day. Now, she can't even get any morning nookie without Sloan busting in, demanding someone make her pancakes and give her pocket money.

Lexie pads across the hallway to Cristina and Callie's place to take a shower but this one's taken.

Three years ago, Caroline Farrell was a happy-go-lucky college co-ed, slash corporate terrorist. Young, dumb and full of come — hither, that is — she used her feminine wiles to trick a security guy into letting her into Rossum. Like many of us back then, her only interests were not picking a major and blowing things up.

All that changed the night Caroline stumbled upon Rossum's hidden lair of Dolls, labs, and secret files, one of which belonged to Bennett Halverson, Topher's future soul mate and nemesis.

Meanwhile, the horny rube who gave Caroline his keycard had no idea any of this existed within the walls of the building he was supposed to be guarding. But don't worry about him. He went on to get a cushy job in Homeland Security, monitoring flights in and out of Detroit, Michigan.

Today, the Adelle and the gang are finalizing their plot to bring back Caroline and discover the identity of Rossum's evil mastermind: a man or woman, (or hermaphrodite, if you listen to Topher) only she has seen and lived to tell. Problem is, Caroline Farrell didn't get a chance to tell anyone what she had seen, before her personality was put on a computer "wedge" and filed under "F."

Episode 2.9 "Stop Loss"

This week, the Dollhouse continues its downward spiral into aesthetically pleasing entropy. Ballard still has the mind of a tomato, thanks to Alpha's brain wipe. Echo did a Pinocchio but now that she's a person and not a puppet in a bustier, she misses Ballard's lipless kisses and scintillating conversation. Victor's crush on Sierra is bleeding into his imprints and he "breaks up" with Adelle's super-secret alter ego, Miss Lonely Hearts.

Back at the Dollhouse, Adelle thinks Topher knows she's Miss Lonely Hearts and punked her for kicks. If only he were that clever, but it's something far more insidious: "doll grouping." "We can't have clients rejected by dolls who are programmed to love them," she warns Topher. What is the world coming to when a successful, attractive woman can't get her freak on with someone programmed to let her get her freak on?

After five long years of fresh pancakes and yoga, gigolo engagements with both sexes, more accents than the UN, and sleeping in a hole in the floor, Victor's contract is up. Moments before being given back his real identity, a US Army vet named Anthony, Echo tells him to say good-bye to Sierra before it's too late, because he'll both regret it and not remember it. Um, what? No matter. Her lack of logic is lost on him because dolls have all the reasoning skills of bunnies. Instead, Victor gives Sierra a Forrest Gump wave and pads up to Topher's office for his final treatment.

Kinsey Scale to Be Replaced by a Bottle of Tequila

BLOOMINGTON, IN- To update the gradations of female sexuality, the Kinsey Institute announced they are replacing their eponymous scale with a 1.75 liter bottle of tequila. "Nothing more accurately measures post-millennial sexual fluidity in female subjects than shot after shot of Cuervo," said Director of Research, Dr. Phyllis Wetmore.

The Kinsey Scale, which ranks sexuality on a continuum of 0 (exclusively heterosexual) to 6 (exclusively homosexual), was originally depicted as a boring two axis chart. The new scale will feature hash marks as shown.

When asked why the scale would not be changing for studies on male subjects, Wetmore explained, "It only seems to make them louder and douchier."

Episode 2.7 "Meet Jane Doe"

Topher and Adelle have returned from Washington DC and things just aren't what they used to be. Adelle has been demoted to being Harding's butt monkey and Topher learned that Bennett's pretty face and alluring dead arm belies pure, psychotic evil. Even for morally challenged Topher Brink, that's a deal breaker. It's too bad. I really thought those kids were good together.

Meanwhile, Echo, still stuck in doll-state, is on an extended walk-about across this great land of ours and dumpster diving and window-shopping. She's made her way all the way to Texas, where the local merchants are proud they no hablo foodo stampo and get a kick out of humiliating poor people. Echo goes into a small market to have a one-sided convo with an ATM.

Hello? I'd like some twenties, please.

When we last left the Dollhouse, US Senator Daniel Perrin was snooping around its parent company, Rossum, in an effort to blow the lid off their nefarious operation and "save" the dolls from years of fake weddings, sexual role-playing and endless yoga. Echo had taught herself to read, think and other annoying self-fulfilling activities. And November had returned to civilian life under her real name, Madeleine, with all the gusto of a zombie on Xanax. Well, now that we're all caught up.

Episode 2.5 "The Public Eye"

Senator Perrin is in a hotel, about to hold a press conference to announce senate hearings to investigate Rossum, with Madeleine as his Exhibit A. In the kitchen waiting to go on, his wife, Cindy, expresses concern for his safety. If you're a politician who fears for your life, you might want to stay out of hotel kitchens, but whatever. She lovingly straightens his tie.

Cindy: Remind me why I love you so much.
Daniel: I'm your white knight.
Cindy: And I'm your beautiful damsel.
Daniel: Ever after.

Excuse me, I have to go vomit.

Lesbian Vampires Form Labor Union: Demand Better Wages, Less Dankness

TRANSYLVANIA COUNTY, NC — Lesbian vampires recently announced the formation of a new labor union to address a list of grievances including wages and undesirable working conditions. The new union complains of "excessively dank lurking locations," according to a union spokeswoman who identified herself as Cassandra.

"Do you have any idea how damp it is in an alley? And don't get me started on the moors," said Cassandra. "I've had a sinus infection for 147 years. Enough, already." The 200-year-old union organizer also plans to meet with faddish TV show producers and deserted mansion owners to negotiate a wardrobe stipend to offset the rising costs of leather dusters and eyeliner, just as soon as the sun goes down.

In related news, the International Virgins Under a Thrall Union has already agreed to honor all future collective bargaining agreements.

Lesbians Unable to Tweet In 140 Characters or Less Now Have "Twordy"

SAN FRANCISCO — After years of trying to share their feelings, political views, lunch choices, and favorite Rachel Maddow quotes — while also telling others how very wrong they are — gay women are abandoning the ubiquitous microblog Twitter in favor of "Twordy," an upstart site that allows up to 125,819 characters.

Founder Michelle Oates, a veterinarian and part-time writer, says, "Twordy is the solution for gay women who have very strong opinions and no problem telling you what they are at length." When asked how she derived at exactly 125,819 characters, Oates explained those are her cats, Mia and Hamm's, birthdays: Dec. 5 and Aug. 19, respectively.

Bi-curious Married Woman Can't Understand Why No One Answered her Craigslist Ad

GROSS POINTE, MI — Hoping to have her first lesbian experience while her husband watches over this past weekend, Linda W. posted an ad in the "Women Seeking Women" section of craigslist, but did not receive any suitable takers before her kids came home. "I've been wanting to know the touch of a drug and disease free, voice-verified, femme woman with no strings attached for a long time," said the 39-year-old mother of three, "But all I received were six angry emails from lesbians. I'm going to try again next weekend and add a grainy picture of my breasts. Maybe that will help."

It's that time of year: Thanksgiving plans and dinners are the lead-in for Christmas and Hanukkah madness, which barely give you time to catch your breath before you're drinking your face off on New Year's eve and making resolutions that have a snowball's chance in hell of lasting through Presidents' Day. I really am going to write my movie about lesbian vampire mimes next year. Really. I mean it this time.

It's also a time for self-reflection. The Chief tells Meredith that 20 years ago, he misdiagnosed himself as an alcoholic. Now that he's enjoying the delicious taste of vodka once again, he sees he actually suffers from "situational depression." Or as I like to call it, "life." He casually asks if she's mentioned his drinking to anyone else. When Meredith says she hasn't uttered a peep, not even to Derek, he rewards her by giving her private surgical tutorials.

Cristina and Owen are in an on-call bunk, getting in some furtive humping time between rounds. To see the same kind of action with Callie and Arizona, you can try writing to Santa, but he's very busy this time of year. Then again, at least one person got what they wanted: Christmukkah came early for nominally Jewish Cristina, who received Teddy, her cardio gift from Owen. Mid-grope, Cristina gets a page from Teddy. She pushes Owen away, and rushes off to meet up with a woman with great hands and pretty hair, thereby re-creating my sophomore year of high school.

Meredith is back at work, liver intact. She's somewhere in the bowels of the hospital, pacing that little-used corridor where the gang used to gather to gossip, nap and hide from their Attendings. Back from who-knows-where, Izzie rounds the corner, pushing her favorite teacher from high school, Dr. Singer (Broadway veteran and Buffy demon Joel Grey) in a wheelchair. However, that's not the time-warp part. The time-warp part is that Izzie suddenly has a full head of hair.

Human hair grows about one half inch per month. So, let's see. Either that's the best damn weave I've ever seen, we've inexplicably time-jumped 10 months, or the same person who decided Grey's didn't need to explain why the Chief has no Mercy West counterpart clearly thinks no one is paying attention.

Meredith wants to know where the hell Izzie's been, but Izzie only wants to talk about her former mentor, who now has dementia. Out of frustration, Meredith hits Izzie but it's going to take more than a couple of girly smacks to slap the self-involved crazy off of that one.

Meanwhile, Dr. Singer thinks Izzie is still a student and warns her to beware of teen pregnancy and cheerleaders because "those little bitches are poisonous." Maybe he's not so far gone after all.

Getting a text at 3:00AM doesn't alarm me. Usually, it's just some drunk friend letting me know they're eating pizza with Jesus, decided we should form a rock band, or in a panic because they've lost their phone.Texting me they've lost their phone. Yeah, I know. But when the phone rings in the middle of the night, it's never good news. It usually means someone is in trouble, hurt or worse. And when you're a surgeon and your pager goes off, it means all three and there's usually no pizza involved.

Callie and Arizona are fast asleep — Arizona peacefully REM-ing like an angel and Callie hanging precariously near the edge, snoring ever so daintily — when a pager goes off.

Arizona wakes with a start, sees it's Callie pager and not hers, gives her girlfriend a shove, and gleefully gets back under the warm covers as Callie tumbles off the bed. Arizona's glee is short-lived because her pager goes off a moment later. Great. This is not the fun way to be woken up in the middle of the night. Guess there's no time for a quickie when lives are at stake — or so I'm told.

Derek says there are many reasons people choose to become surgeons. Some like the excitement, some like power of saving lives. He says he grew up in a house full of women and chose surgery for the peace and quiet. So, the stress of holding a living brain in your hands doesn't come close to the nerve jangling cacophony of a hen house? I get that. I'd rather disarm a bomb than watch The View.

Big Chief I'm-In-Charge has just birthed another brainchild: He proudly announces they've switched over to surgery scheduling software, which would be special, were it 1983. The staff is less uneasy about losing the surety of Dry-Erase markers and a white board than they are of anything the Chief concocts. It's just like the time he implemented his super-confusing Dress Like a Patient Day and someone accidentally gave George an enema while he was napping.

Meanwhile, Alex's elfin nemesis, Reed, has turned the locker room into a yoga studio. As Dr. Keebler stretches her hammies, Cristina comes in to remind Alex that Izzie has an oncology appointment. Considering he doesn't even know if his wife is still in the state of Washington, that's a cancellation fee waiting to happen.

Before the free yoga classes, group showers and long, peaceful days spent staring at river stones and Victor's butt, Sierra was Priya, a poor, yet happy Australian artist. While selling her paintings on the promenade of the sunny, hippie freak show known as Venice Beach, California, she met Nolan Kinnard, a rich guy with a crush and an offer. And it wasn't to buy her a corn dog and a tramp stamp.

One year ago. To win Priya over, Kinnard commissions a large painting and throws a party/art show at his home in her honor. Priya is out of place among his douchey rich friends and can barely hide her eye-rolling as she walks away from an insipid woman suffering from faux patrician lockjaw.

Echo sidles up to her in a cocktail dress slash sausage casing that has just enough "give" in all the right places. Thank you.

If you're an aficionado of old Japanese cinema, (as I'm sure most of you are) or merely took a film class in college because watching movies seemed like an easy three credits, (it is) then you're familiar with Roshomon. This classic film tells one story from the perspective of several witnesses, each version differing from the others, leaving the viewer to decide what really happened. In science, this subjectivity of memory is called the Roshomon Effect. In police investigations, it's called having unreliable witnesses. In lesbian relationships, we know it as She Said-She Said, or the more common, "My ex is crazy and that never happened."

At Seattle Grace Mercy West, something very bad has transpired. All the kids have been called to the principal's office and wait somberly outside the Chief's door. Some words are exchanged between Alex and the cute guy with the blue peepers whose name I haven't bothered to learn, so let's just call him Dr. Vanessa Williams.

The whole Red Sox vs.Yankees, shirts vs. skins, over vs. under toilet paper hanger rivalry comes to a head and a fight breaks out between the camps. Hearing the ruckus, the Chief pokes his dopey head out of this office. Keep it down; some of us are trying to sleep over here.

With a board member and the hospital's lawyer by his side, the Chief plans to interrogate every single doctor to discover the events that led up to a patient's avoidable death. The Chief calls Owen into his office. As Owen passes Cristina, she whispers what everyone's thinking: "I'm not going down for this."

Starting from the beginning, Owen sets up the scene. A hotel fire has inundated the ER with victims. One of the patients died — a woman who came in with an ugly but non-life-threatening leg burn. If only she were Jorja Fox, and not just someone who looked a little like her.

The merger is complete and Seattle Grace is under attack. Swarms of orange-clad Mercy Westies show up for their first day of school like they own the damn joint. No one's happy about it, least of all, Izzie, who wants to have a throw down with the redhead who has the nerve to take George's old cubby.

Everyone convenes in Meredith's room, where she's recovering from her recent liver donation-ectomy, to gripe and resign themselves to careers in the coroner's office. Meredith gives them a pep talk based on the plot of Aliens. "They can't attach themselves to our faces, and then when we're eating spaghetti, explode out of our chests and skitter across the floor. This is our ship!" she assures them. Well, good, because I'm pretty sure their HMO doesn't cover this.

Cristina is feeling lower than ever. Does anyone remember the heady days when she was a shining star in the cardiothoracic universe? She doesn't either. Meredith tells her to nut up and get out there.