“Grey’s Anatomy” mini-cap: Valentine’s Day Massacre

 
 

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.

Elsewhere, Callie and Arizona are giddy as lesbians with a new kitten and gush to Bailey that they’re having dinner at four o’clock. Dinner at 4:00 p.m. is not dinner, nor is it lunch. It’s what I like to call linner. There’s also a mention of exchanging “gifts,” which I hope means spit. Not that we’ll see any of that.

Bailey has no use for cupidity, much to the dismay of hot, young anesthesiologist, Ben. When Ben asks Bailey out, she stutters she’s busy through the next decade. Callie and Arizona are onto her, though. She likes him but she’s shy. Or hasn’t shaved in five months. Or something. Whatever the reason, they are on her like red on a Valentine’s Day heart.

Mark is anxiously awaiting the return of his bubble-headed daughter, Sloan, and the bun in her oven. He even bought and assembled a crib for his soon-to-be grandson, but being a metrosexual and not a handyman, the crib wobbles. He asks Callie for advice. What? Just because she’s a lesbian, she knows her way around an Allen wrench? As an orthopedic surgeon, she’ll probably just break the other legs to make them equally short.

Mark may not be handy with a screwdriver, but he’s great with a shovel. Spying a blond from across the room, he leaves Callie to heap on the charm. The blond turns around. It’s Lexie.

Mark: What’d you do to your hair?
Lexie: I changed it, I colored it — wait. You thought I was someone else! You didn’t know it was me and you were hitting on me?
Mark: No, no. I pretty much thought you were some blond.
Lexie: You are pathetic. And hypocritical. And slutty.
Mark: And you are no blond. You can’t pull that off. Blonds are either badass or fun. You’re brunette.

This week’s cases include an injured head waiter who tips Alex 50 bucks to get a primo spot next to his 15-year secret crush, a woman whose husband is in surgery; a loner dishwasher with a severed arm; and April, the recently rehired Mercy West resident, who suffers from acute straightgirlitis. April flounces over to Meredith, addresses her as “Mrs. Shepherd” and asks if she’ll be attending a hospital trustees’ brunch with her husband, the Chief, Dr. Shepard.

Meredith shoots her a clenched-teeth smile. That’s Dr. Grey to you.

While Arizona tries to play Cupid with Bailey and Ben in an operating room — “Isn’t there a dying child somewhere?” asks an annoyed Bailey — her girlfriend is with Sloan and finds out she intends to give up Mark’s grandson up for adoption. Callie can see the shit storm clouds gathering, but dopey Sloan knows just enough to invoke doctor-patient confidentiality.

The Touching Monologue of the Week is delivered by the headwaiter, Emile. Looking longingly at his favorite diner, he tells Alex that when she was single, she was adventurous and ate anything he served her. Then, she met Mr. Dullard. To add insult to insalata, he was the one who put her engagement ring into her crème brulee. And now, because Emile never told her that she’s the surf to his turf, he watches her and her boring ass husband eat in soul-killing silence.

But this is how straight people dine. Look around. Even young couples who are clearly just dating don’t speak to each other. I’m only further convinced men and women have nothing in common and should just be neighbors.

After her ultrasound, Sloan tells Callie she wants to skip town and give her baby away on Craigslist, even though Mark is beside himself with having an addition to the Sloan family tree.

“That’s the Sloan nose!” he says proudly. Listen. You can’t see anything on those pictures. Every fetus looks like a platypus and I don’t care what anyone says.

In other observational news: Avery notices Lexie’s new tresses and calls her “Barbie.” Lexie confides in him that she did it because Mark forgot about her. Forgot to ask if she wanted a family with Sloan. Forgot to ask if she was OK with having his grandkid running around the house. Forgot to consider her. He just plain forgot about her.

Avery: I’m pretty.
Lexie: What?
Avery: In my family, I’m the pretty one. My eyes and my smile, my body. I mean, you should see me without a shirt on. It’s kinda ridiculous. But my family is smart, driven, and crazy over-achievers. And they look like they’re smart. They don’t look like me, which has its perks. Except that my family treated me like I was pretty. They expected nothing from me, ever. Never pushed me, never thought to. So I had to push myself. Hard.

Avery’s family is Asian?

The point is, if Lexie wants Mark to take her seriously, she has to change herself, from the inside. That, and he’s pretty.

Meanwhile, that Sloan platypus is wreaking havoc right and left, and it’s not even born yet. When Mark finds out his grandson might be put up for adoption, he blurts out, “Give him to me. I’ll take him. I’ll adopt him.” Callie’s jaw drops as she stares Dr. Slutty in shock. And yet, a second later, after Sloan says it takes two to raise a child, Callie forgets she has a girlfriend to consult and finds herself adding, “I’ll help.”

Arizona is already blond. Where does she go from there?

What’s Valentine’s Day without some chocolate stolen from a comatose patient and a little wager on love? Meredith, Alex and Cristina dig into a box of Russell Stover’s while discussing the odds of the unrequited restaurant romance ever being tonight’s special. Meredith offers it’s OK if her husband croaks because they’re miserable. Yes, a boring husband should welcome sweet, merciful death so his wife can start over. What is she thinking?

Meredith asks, “Is this what marriage turns into? Running out of things to say and changing who you are?” Alex and Cristina chime in between caramel chews, “Probably” and “Yeah.”

Before the woman can profess any kind of reciprocation, she goes into respiratory distress. Oh well. It’s been 15 years, what’s another hour?

Meanwhile, the one-armed dishwasher is in for some bad news. His stump is too infected for re-attachment surgery and by the time it heals, his arm will be deader than Tila Tequila’s career. Lexie mumbles an idea to Pretty Boy Avery, but it’s Mark and Owen who need to hear it. Avery pushes Lexie front and center, where she nervously demands they do more than shrug their manly shoulders — she suggests some procedure I can’t spell.

Does anyone remember Teddy? Well, she’s trying to tell her friend Owen about her new place, (she moved) her new pet, (a fish) her new bikini wax, (not that anyone’s going to see it before she needs another one) and what else? Oh yeah. Why won’t he talk to her? Oh boy. Every time these two are in the same room, their faces get all twisted and pained. Owen explains that just speaking to her feels like he’s cheating on Cristina. So he doesn’t. Yeah for Cristina, but not so much for that Brazilian Teddy’s sporting. Love has its own PTSD.

In other lady news, April has designated herself Derek’s little helper. When he tells her to stop acting like a perky admin, and start being a doctor, she says she’s afraid. The last time she practiced medicine, someone died. Avoidance takes many forms, but for April, it looks like Filemaker Pro and picking up his dry cleaning.

In a recovery room, Lexie, Mark and Owen show the dishwasher how they were able to save his arm until his stump heals. Lexie pulls back the covers to reveal his arm attached to his leg. “Is that my arm? Why would you do that?” he asks, rightly so. Lexie reminds him it’s what he wanted but he doesn’t see it that way. Dude, it could have been so much worse.

Sometimes I really enjoy this show.

Callie comes home just as Sloan is sneaking out. “Oh, come on!” Callie says exasperatedly. Sloan says all she wanted was a place to crash and some money. She’s changed her mind about the baby yet again and has decided to give it to a nice stranger couple in San Francisco. That way, she doesn’t have to know about him, think about him, or feel shitty about him. Basically, she’s breaking up with her baby. Callie chases after her.

Sloan is adamant. Once a girl has made up her mind, there’s no changing it. As a lesbian, Callie knows that, so she stuffs a bunch of money in Sloan’s hand and reminds her to take her vitamins. So long, Daryl Hannah.

Back at the hospital, the woman wakes up to learn her husband, Bob, is back in surgery and Emile was rushed to an OR with a bleeding brain. She tells Meredith her side of what seems like a love triangle, “I love Bob. It became ‘our place.’ And yes, he orders for me. Because he knows what I like. And it may seem like we have nothing left to talk about. Sometimes it’s nice not to have to talk. Fifteen years ago, I made a choice. And I keep making it, every day. That’s what marriage is.”

No one really knows what goes on in a relationship except the two people in it. And no one really knows what goes on in a woman’s head, not even her. Alex tells her Emile didn’t make it. With her husband lying next to her, she rolls over, away from him, and starts to cry. So, no more free desserts?

The real simmering romance is elsewhere. Ben the gasman tries one more time with Bailey but she says she can’t talk to him.

Bailey: I can’t talk to you. You make me nervous. I forget what I — I say things I don’t want to say. And I can’t — I just go stupid. I like you. That’s all. There.
Ben: Alright.
Bailey: And so, if you want to go to dinner, fine. I’ll show up and try to talk.
Ben: How’s tomorrow?
Bailey: Fine. I might have surgery.
Ben: I might join you.

Aw. Bailey’s got a crush.

Lexie gives the dishwasher some good news: he’s a newsmaker and he’s staring a good lawsuit. As if having an arm that can scratch his knee without bending over wasn’t enough. In honor of Valentine’s Day, Lexie and Alex have sex in a closet, while Teddy comes to her senses.

She finds Owen and Cristina leaving work, walk arm-in-arm, and tells them both she’s going to be just fine. She and Owen will go back to being friends, she has a great place and great job, a fish and very smooth lady parts. She tells Cristina to scrub up — they’re going to be operating together in 10 minutes. All’s right with Teddy bear, even though she told Owen she loves him. After Cristina trots off to prep for surgery, Owen reminds Teddy, “You can’t un-ring to bell.” No, but you can learn a new tune to make everyone’s life easier.

Love is all about making choices. You can choose husbands over waiters. That’s called being married. You can choose to let go when someone doesn’t love you back. That’s called being a grown-up. And you can support your partner, even if it means missing a surgery and putting up with sexist bullcrap.

Meredith tells Derek he owes her big time.

 
 

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