Wednesday, May 18, 2011

Guest Blogger: House's Leg Speaks Out!

DAHLINGS -

As you know, every now and again I let a guest blogger take the burden of writing this blog-thing out of my perfectly manicured hands. And as I am not remotely interested in writing anything about Pippa Middleton, it seemed the right time. I take no responsibilty for my guest's language.

Ciao, Elisa

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HOW FUCKING COOL WAS LAST NIGHT’S EPISODE?

AND THE WEEK BEFORE THAT?

No, we’re not talking about the story, the angst, the script, whatever.



I GOT MAJOR MAJOR SCREEN TIME! OH, YEAH, BABY, THE LEG RULES! WOO-HOO!

Front and fucking CENTER, man, they showed my huge scar, showed that House ISN’T IN FUCKING PSYCHOSOMATIC PAIN—EAT TURDS, “CONVERSION DISORDER” FUCKTARDS! IT’S PAIN! SHOOTING, SCORCHING, PAIN! YOU CAN EAT MY ASS--wait, I don't have an ass, the ass lives above me--YOU CAN EAT MY KNEE!


For almost two seasons I’ve had to pretend the pain barely existed, that it wasn’t so bad. Do you have ANY IDEA what that is like? Huh? I wanted to BOOGIE when House started downing the Vicodin again But I couldn’t because I’m only one leg and he’d fall over and there’d be hell to pay.

As I once said:
IF YOU HAVE A HUGE PIECE OF MUSCLE AND BLOOD VESSELS AND FAT REMOVED, WOULDN’T YOU FEEL IT JUST A TAD?

Gotta admit, I was begging for a stunt leg during the episode where he’s working me out with the rubber band or whatever the fuck that thing was. Damn, I deserve an EMMY for those scenes! You don’t have to be a Method Actor, all you need is a GINORMOUS CHUNK CUT OUT OF YOUR THIGH!

The other leg bitched about how I was getting all of the good scenes, and I was like, “Look, jerk-off, they see you all the time. Let the limb have his moment, yo!” (Shit. Have to stop hanging around Greg Yaitanes.)

But if I had to endure screaming hideous pain BECAUSE I HAD A HUGE PIECE OF—oh, crap, there I go again, but I’m still pissed about it—it was worth it for these two episodes! Free at last, free at last, God almighty I’m free at last! Yeah, that fucking scar of mine is MAD HORRIFYING, isn’t it? BECAUSE THOSE ASSHOLES TOOK A HUGE—did I already say that?

Anyway, there was NO WAY they were going to cut me off, I was going to go kicking and screaming (well, not screaming, technically, because I don’t have a mouth) if they pulled that shit.

To squelch any rumors, I am signed for Season 8. With no fucking pay cut. Shit, I should get hazard pay just for walking around, because of the HUGE...oops.

I admit, those were some special effects when he was taking the tumors out of me. I have my limits. But I was too preoccupied with basking in the glow of STARDOM to care! Two whole episodes revolved around ME!

House’s leg! ME!

At the end of the day, it’s all about the work.

No, it isn't. It's about the close-ups. Suck me, Charlie Sheen.

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