House: Dave Matthews-palooza!

Last night on House, the writers tried to achieve the impossible. Twice. First, they tried to make Dave Matthews sympathetic and likeable, despite the fact that everything he did after "Under the Table and Dreaming" was so overplayed (not entirely his fault) and irritating (pretty much his fault) that hearing it on the radio still makes me want to shoot out the speakers (and I'm anti-gun). And do I even have to mention Because of Winn-Dixie? With the creepy smiling dog? Ugh.

The writers didn't entirely succeed, partly due to the overly-schmaltzy ending where the formerly severely impaired (but musically brilliant) man learns to button his own shirt. They didn't entirely fail, either, partly due to the fact that Dave hardly had any lines. (Side note: I once ran into Dave and his posse at a tennis tournament in Cincinnati. They were all getting breakfast at the crepe stand. Yes, tennis tournaments have crepe stands. True story.)

In their second attempt to achieve the impossible, the writers tried to make a man who fakes cancer in order to get high sympathetic and likeable. And not the medicinal marijuana kind of high, either--we're talking the "happy drug implanted in your brain" kind. However, the faker is House, and we totally still love him, right? Plus, the fake cancer leads to a hysterically awkward hug with Chase, a hysterically ass-grabbing hug with Cuddy, and a totally hot make-out session with Cameron (who is trying to distract him so she can steal his blood for testing). And I'm not even pro-House/Cameron.

What's the moral of this story? It's easier to make a man faking cancer in order to get drugs likeable than it is to make Dave Matthews likeable. Put that in your pipes and smoke it, obnoxious prepsters I went to high school with!

P.S. Sorry I haven't been around lately. It's been insane at work, and I actually (GASP) haven't had any time to watch TV! So I'm way, painfully behind. Hopefully I'll get all caught up this weekend.