In short, it was a kick-ass start to a kick-ass series and it's only going to get more...kick-assier? Whatever. This show rules. -- Erin
House
House ended its second season with the bang of two gunshots and one exploding testicle, but in the third season, it was the viewers' balls that were busted. After a few episodes of full mobility, thanks to a magical, thigh-muscle-restoring ketamine coma, House's leg pain returned before the dramatic possibilities of its loss could ever be fully explored. And don't bother mentioning the fact that he was shot in his office by someone who was never even caught, since the show certainly didn't. Then we met Detective Tritter, whose anger at having a thermometer left in his ass was especially mysterious since it must have kept the giant stick that was already permanently lodged up there good company. After a seven-episode arc of police abuse of power, cheating in rehab, overdoses, and employer-employee violence, Tritter finally left, and the show got back on track. Cameron and Chase hooked up for a while, giving us a glimpse of a heretofore unknown romantic side to Chase, as well as an equally heretofore unknown non-romantic side of Cameron. As for Foreman, he killed a patient and tortured a child. And then all three of them either quit or were fired, leaving Season Four as much of a blank canvas with unlimited possibilities as Season Three was. Let's hope the writers paint a better picture on it this time. -- Sara M
The Janice Dickinson Modeling Agency
Okay. You know how sometimes you will have the most delicious-looking box of chocolates in front of you? And you would be in heaven if you just had one or two, but for reasons unknown to you, you eat almost the whole box and then you just feel kind of nauseous and fat? That was what it was like when our beloved Janice Dickinson, so delightful in 45-second increments on America's Top Model, opened her own modeling agency in front of the cameras of the Oxygen Network. Granted, there were some pretty great moments, most of which involved our heroine appearing to be extremely drunk or high (see: Janice falling off of a chair in the middle of a meeting with a potential client) or the miracles that are her adorable and seemingly well-adjusted kids. We're also not complaining about all the pretty people and hot, naked ass that we were treated to on a weekly basis. But the highlights didn't quite balance out the choppy editing, tenuous grasp of "reality," and complete disregard for the time/space continuum, all of which I guess you could argue are artistic representations of what a day in the life of J. Dick is really like. -- Potes
By The TWoP Staff
In short, it was a kick-ass start to a kick-ass series and it's only going to get more...kick-assier? Whatever. This show rules. -- Erin
House
House ended its second season with the bang of two gunshots and one exploding testicle, but in the third season, it was the viewers' balls that were busted. After a few episodes of full mobility, thanks to a magical, thigh-muscle-restoring ketamine coma, House's leg pain returned before the dramatic possibilities of its loss could ever be fully explored. And don't bother mentioning the fact that he was shot in his office by someone who was never even caught, since the show certainly didn't. Then we met Detective Tritter, whose anger at having a thermometer left in his ass was especially mysterious since it must have kept the giant stick that was already permanently lodged up there good company. After a seven-episode arc of police abuse of power, cheating in rehab, overdoses, and employer-employee violence, Tritter finally left, and the show got back on track. Cameron and Chase hooked up for a while, giving us a glimpse of a heretofore unknown romantic side to Chase, as well as an equally heretofore unknown non-romantic side of Cameron. As for Foreman, he killed a patient and tortured a child. And then all three of them either quit or were fired, leaving Season Four as much of a blank canvas with unlimited possibilities as Season Three was. Let's hope the writers paint a better picture on it this time. -- Sara M
The Janice Dickinson Modeling Agency
Okay. You know how sometimes you will have the most delicious-looking box of chocolates in front of you? And you would be in heaven if you just had one or two, but for reasons unknown to you, you eat almost the whole box and then you just feel kind of nauseous and fat? That was what it was like when our beloved Janice Dickinson, so delightful in 45-second increments on America's Top Model, opened her own modeling agency in front of the cameras of the Oxygen Network. Granted, there were some pretty great moments, most of which involved our heroine appearing to be extremely drunk or high (see: Janice falling off of a chair in the middle of a meeting with a potential client) or the miracles that are her adorable and seemingly well-adjusted kids. We're also not complaining about all the pretty people and hot, naked ass that we were treated to on a weekly basis. But the highlights didn't quite balance out the choppy editing, tenuous grasp of "reality," and complete disregard for the time/space continuum, all of which I guess you could argue are artistic representations of what a day in the life of J. Dick is really like. -- Potes