Running off at the mouth
Jun. 6th, 2009 12:12 pm![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
vanillafluffyAhh, the luxurious sensation of having accomplished something long-delayed and LOOMING.... I woke up early this morning and put together my presentation on church tomorrow for Murphy's Law. (I'll post it tomorrow after I've presented it---I'm a little superstitious about shit like that.) I signed up to talk a couple months ago with no firm plan for a topic. Then, exiting work after a really bad day, it hit me: Murphy's Law.
That's one of the things I adore about my church: It's an open forum. Anyone can sign up to talk, and we've heard about everything from angels and the Koran to crop circles and life lessons from BtVS. I once did a talk about E-tailing 101, on what you need to know before you shop online. My talks tend to lean toward stand-up, which is one reason I don't do it often; it doesn't feel appropriate---but Murphy is universal and ought to be fun.
Speaking of fun, last night I came home and watched Thursday night's DVR of Royal Pains, which I highly recommend. It begins with cute, brilliant Dr Hank playing basketball on his day off. One of his fellow players collapses from a heart attack. Hank goes into action (he happens to be a trauma doctor), whisks the guy to the hospital, where he's barely in the door when the administrator recruits him to work on a Very Important Hospital Contributor who has chest pains. Hank does what he can for VIHC, goes back to his original patient, VIHC kicks the bucket and Hank is out of a job and blacklisted throughout New York City. "I can't even get hired as a school nurse," he grumps to his fiancee, who dumps him during his pity-party.
Along comes his baby brother the accountant---and for a wonder, the two actually LOOK like they could be brothers---who persuades him to come to the Hamptons for a spectacular four-day Memorial weekend party. It turns out the brother isn't actually invited---he bluffs his way into the baronial estate of Boris with a panache almost worthy of a Winchester---but he and Hank are mingling when a girl collapses.
There's a doctor on the scene who's certain she's having a drug reaction, but Hank stops him before he can administer the antidote, pointing out symptoms the first doctor missed and diagnosing insecticide poisoning from exposure in Boris's greenhouse. He saves her, of course, and Boris is impressed enough to make him a job offer, which Hank initially turns down. The term "concierge doctor" is floated; basically a personal doctor-for-hire for the super-rich. (And these people are mega-rich. The houses are total eye-candy.) Boris gets in the last word, though: Hank finds a suitcase containing a gold bar and a thank-you note in his car.
Word about his services spread with eerie rapidity, people start calling and texting Hank about their troubles, his brother wants him to seize the opportunity, because what the hell else is he doing? There are several other patients, proving Hank as a medical MacGuyver, a possible romantic subplot, and Hank finally ends up displacing Boris's previous doctor and moving into his guest house.
It was a lot of fun. The writing is good, the premise is interesting, Hank and his bro are both tasty...two thumbs up. If they can maintain the quality, I'm there.
That's one of the things I adore about my church: It's an open forum. Anyone can sign up to talk, and we've heard about everything from angels and the Koran to crop circles and life lessons from BtVS. I once did a talk about E-tailing 101, on what you need to know before you shop online. My talks tend to lean toward stand-up, which is one reason I don't do it often; it doesn't feel appropriate---but Murphy is universal and ought to be fun.
Speaking of fun, last night I came home and watched Thursday night's DVR of Royal Pains, which I highly recommend. It begins with cute, brilliant Dr Hank playing basketball on his day off. One of his fellow players collapses from a heart attack. Hank goes into action (he happens to be a trauma doctor), whisks the guy to the hospital, where he's barely in the door when the administrator recruits him to work on a Very Important Hospital Contributor who has chest pains. Hank does what he can for VIHC, goes back to his original patient, VIHC kicks the bucket and Hank is out of a job and blacklisted throughout New York City. "I can't even get hired as a school nurse," he grumps to his fiancee, who dumps him during his pity-party.
Along comes his baby brother the accountant---and for a wonder, the two actually LOOK like they could be brothers---who persuades him to come to the Hamptons for a spectacular four-day Memorial weekend party. It turns out the brother isn't actually invited---he bluffs his way into the baronial estate of Boris with a panache almost worthy of a Winchester---but he and Hank are mingling when a girl collapses.
There's a doctor on the scene who's certain she's having a drug reaction, but Hank stops him before he can administer the antidote, pointing out symptoms the first doctor missed and diagnosing insecticide poisoning from exposure in Boris's greenhouse. He saves her, of course, and Boris is impressed enough to make him a job offer, which Hank initially turns down. The term "concierge doctor" is floated; basically a personal doctor-for-hire for the super-rich. (And these people are mega-rich. The houses are total eye-candy.) Boris gets in the last word, though: Hank finds a suitcase containing a gold bar and a thank-you note in his car.
Word about his services spread with eerie rapidity, people start calling and texting Hank about their troubles, his brother wants him to seize the opportunity, because what the hell else is he doing? There are several other patients, proving Hank as a medical MacGuyver, a possible romantic subplot, and Hank finally ends up displacing Boris's previous doctor and moving into his guest house.
It was a lot of fun. The writing is good, the premise is interesting, Hank and his bro are both tasty...two thumbs up. If they can maintain the quality, I'm there.