ever read/seen The Good Woman of Szechuan?
Mal ,'The Message'
Buffista Fic 2: They Said It Couldn't Be Done.
[NAFDA] Where the Buffistas let their fanfic creative juices flow. May contain erotica.
No, I haven't. Why?
reading the wikipedia page just now I'm thinking my understanding of the play is a bit off. I thought it was about a woman who was so good all the time that she created an evil alter-ego to help keep her sanity.
How weird to already have Ari on the brain. I just got a call from a high muckety-muck at a studio and when I picked up the phone I got the "please hold for ___ " from his assistant. First time that's ever happened to me!
Whether your play is right or wrong, perhaps my obsession with criminals and addicts has something to do with this. And why the people I crush on in the media are like unbridled diva egomaniacs.
Yay! Oh, yay! Oh, I thought you'd grok the Ari love! Because Ari is made of pure, unbridled win! (Especially when he tries any of this shit with Mrs Ari, because that is HILARIOUS.)
::loves Ari::
You have him pitch-perfect, love. Which surprises me not at all, but is still a sauce of glee.
eta ....er, yeah - I meant "source of glee", obviously, but - yeah. Ahem. Saucy too.
Yeah, it took a while, but I just started watching Season 2 on disc yesterday, and there was a moment where the guys were talking about fidelity..."Everybody cheats," Ari says.
So Eric, who as we know loves to stick pins in mr. Gold's balloon, says "Everybody? How about your wife?" And, for just a moment, Ari isn't cool. Ari looks like a kid that lost his ice cream in the street, or like Eric smacked him across the face. For some reason that just killed me. Even though he followed it up with something chest-thumping and annoying. Ari, like, wants to be Hugh Hefner(God, why?) but he's really a geek who saw too many Steve McQueen movies and read too much Robert Evans. I think he still lives in fear of being found out. Piven's performance reminds me of Steve Carrell as Michael Scott in this way. ETA: Thanks. Although it convinces me I'd be a scary bloke.
You're making me want to start over again with season 1.
Wanna hug it out?
Actually, if somebody really asked me that, my gut answer would be something like "No, thanks, I'm Scandinavian." But I guess that's why there are no great agents named Torgeson making deals outside the Lutheran church.
More--
Cuddy felt like a sucker when she got off the phone.She had thought that the loss of control she occasionally felt with House was a one-time aberration, but she had to agree that, to a certain extent, she'd been used. But she could make it worth it if she could get the women's health clinic she wanted...and she had to admit to checking out House's People magazines to see Ari's newest client, Vince Chase. She was unprepared for the one-word response from her lizard brain. "Yum!"
Not that she would make a fool of herself over a guy half her age; she really liked being single, when she could date and House didn't find out about it, but she did suddenly understand the impulse to make life easier for the up-and-coming actor. She was an adult; she wasn't dead, and something about the combination of Vince's dark hair and blue eyes perked up Cuddy's limbic system.
House, operating under no such constraints, but sensing some new enthusiasm behind Cuddy's appeal when she offered to get him out of clinic hours,decided to be difficult.
"I can't work on him...he's got a bad character. Look how he dresses."
"He dresses like you, if your t-shirts cost the same as a car payment and you hadn't had the same ones for twenty years."
"See?"
"Well, I want those low-cost mammograms. You're doing this, House."
"Say the word and I'll touch your breasts any time. You don't even have to pay me. Well, more than you already do..."
"Argh, men." Cuddy slammed into her office.She was still amused by the thought of the Ari Gold Women's Clinic...maybe she would name it after the wife, they'd both like that...
Cuddy's pique was short-lived as Cameron hesitantly told both senior doctors there was "Some sort of limo," outside.
"My metaphor works better long-term," House told Cuddy under his breath as they went out to see it. "More dramatic tension,"
"Shhh...he's a donor now."
"Cuddy, I'm begging you, don't have a baby with this guy. No matter how much your mother wants to retire in Boca."
"Not that kind of donor. Do this and you never have to go to Casino Night again, especially if you put a sock in the anti-Semitism."
"I'll stop. I don't need the tsuris."
"Fine,"
"Ari, this makes no sense....weren't you in LA when you called me?"
"Protecting my investment. My wife's letting me stay over too. Uh, I mean that my wife *appreciates* that I have important interests that keep me in the Big Apple over two days."
"But what about your carbon footprint?"
Almost without thinking, Gold spoke into his cell phone. "Lloyd, you Tokyo Rose, why don't you slap an extra zero on that check for Laurie David...sure, sign it. You write my name better than I do anyway. No, it's none of your fuckin' business where I am. You're not Charlie Chan for Christ's sake." He clicked End. "Idiot," he said, to nobody in particular.
"You always made me do what's right, Lise, you know that. Even though this is a huge fuckin' concession on my part when you haven't fulfilled your part of the bargain yet."
"Oh, really...Lise." House said, tone dripping with irony.
"There's the man of the hour. Listen, man, I really dug your mojo in that documentary I watched. Even though the production values were strictly amateur hour, let's be honest. If you ever want another bite at the apple, say the word and I will get you Spike Lee, no, he's too intense about injustice and shit, he's a pain in the ass. I will get you Barry Fucking Levinson...he'll like you, you went to Hopkins. You can arm-wrestle over crab cakes or whatever you people do. I don't get it, but I don't get why Vince needs to spend the summer eating stale craft services in Queens."
"I don't think so," House (continued...)
( continues...) said. "I hate working on camera."
"Wow, are you for real?"
"Oh, you're right," House said, and Cuddy's heart dropped as she saw the scruffy doctor smile widely and extend his cane-free hand. "Hi, I'm Greg, your indentured, board-certified treatment monkey. There's nothing I love more than knowing that those extra years of medical specialization can be used to help swatch some rich kid's coke-encrusted Hollywood mucus. Really."
end of part 3