Juju Says What? - 
by m_ruv
Well Grey's Anatomy is officially on a roll. It's so hot right now I'D BURN MY FINGER IF I TOUCHED IT. This week was great: Meredith is becoming more fun again, Cristina and Izzie had a hilarious run-in, and it was nice to see Dr. Webber featured. In other news, god damn was my recap from last week long. This week will be a little more streamlined so it doesn't take as long to read as, say, the Scientology article in Rolling Stone.
Beginning her voiceover, Meredith says there's a magic statue at her college campus and it's a longstanding tradition for students to rub its nose for good luck. And OH HO, indeed there is—I myself rubbed dear old Warner Bentley's nose many a time. Given the number of people who touch that damn thing I always figured it was the site where ebola started. Anyway, Meredith's freshman-year roommate really believed the statue gave her good luck on tests, but that didn't really work since she flunked out. But hey we all have superstitions: knock on wood, don't step on sidewalk cracks, left nostril first when doing lines off the toilet seat... that kind of thing.
Each of the doctors does a little good-luck ritual before surgery. She-Shepherd pins her wedding ring to her lapel; Burke cracks his neck; He-Shepherd repeats his little saying that it's a "beautiful day to save lives"; Bailey does a little yoga pose that I am naming "Flavasana." But today these rituals apparently are as effective as, say, the "rhythm method" of birth control, because not two minutes into the show and four patients are dead.
The interns discuss this disaster in the locker room. Izzie says the morgue guy told her that deaths come in threes or sevens, so they should expect an additional three before the day is out. Cristina calls horseshit on that. George, for his part, continues to make a show of avoiding Meredith, which frankly is getting really old. Before long, Bailey calls them all to the E.R. to await new patients.
In the hall, She-Shepherd is dispensing good luck—in the form of hot chocolate, rather than the more "adult" services one might have expected from the resident ADULTERESS—to the doctors and interns. She refers to these these good luck tokens via the West African term "juju," injecting a much-needed note of ethnic and racial diversity to a show that was, until now, desperately lacking in that regard. She-Shepherd even gives one to Meredith, as a token of goodwill and shared sexual experiences. He-Shepherd notes his wife's generosity and says he certainly isn't planning on being that generous to Mark Sloan.
Meredith, the ungrateful little hussy, takes one sip of the cocoa-juju and throws it out. Burke, meanwhile, is freaking out because the hospital laundry has lost his good-luck African-flava-pattern surgical caps. Webber warns him that, superstition or not, there's no way Burke is gonna delay surgeries just cause his Nelson Mandela collection is still in the wash.
As the interns wait around for patients, Cristina notes that it's "dead quiet," which prompts an immediate dubious-black-woman threat response from Dr. Bailey. Izzie says that declaring a hospital "quiet" is as bad as uttering the cursèd name "Macbeth" in a theater—but in a nod to her Twinkies-and-NASCAR upbringing she pronounces it "theAYter." She would make a great Daisy Mae Scraggs whenever they cast the inevitable Li'l Abner remake.
Indeed, Cristina's words prove bad luck, because about 3,000 ambulances pull up in the next second, along with a page from Izzie's heartthrob Denny and a return of the surefire crowd pleaser, the patient vomiting blood. Cristina is assigned a man who was rear-ended—no, not like Clay Aiken rear-ended—and got a scalpful of broken glass when his head went through the windshield. The patient is counting something off with his fingers. Oh great, OCD. Indeed, he's counting off the whoops of the ambulance siren and says they can't take him into the hospital until the count reaches 33. Frankly, why waste the expense on this guy. "Oh yes, sir, the WAITING ROOM [morgue] IS RIGHT THIS WAY."
Meredith's patient has some chest and leg injuries and says she got struck by lightning. This patient is annoying, horoscope-obsessed, the love child of Andie MacDowell and Sarah Jessica Parker, and likely flying high on a cocktail of prescription drugs. Bailey notes that the woman shows none of the wounding or burn marks characteristic of a lightning strike. So the patient admits that she wasn't exactly struck by lightning, but instead a tree near her got struck and then dropped a branch on her. Bailey is pissed because this bitch done wasted her time, so she crosses out the chart and starts over. The woman keeps talking about her "boyfriend" in a way that suggests there are probably multiple restraining orders against her.
Denny, meanwhile, is having problems problems problems—pain and haunted house sounds whenever he breathes. It might be a blood clot in his lungs, a complication from that surgery last week when they implanted the Lego motor that is now powering his heart.
"You wanna just leave these two in the dumpster out back?"
Meredith and Cristina end up in the elevator together with their respective patients on gurneys. Meredith complains that she got "got hot-chocolated by a She-Shepherd." TVGASM RECAPS NOW AFFECT THE COURSE OF HIT SHOWS!! Well who knows, but that's what I choose to believe. Anyway, I basically fell out of my chair, so I now have significant bruising from hitting the floor, so THANKS, ELLEN POMPEO. Anyway, Cristina is really up to her limit with this juju shit. But the crazy stalker patient chimes in and says Meredith is not obligated to honor She-Shepherd's juju. Thanks sweetcheeks, but if I needed relationship advice I'd consult Liza Minnelli.
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