House TV Show - Oedipus Complex - House Photos & Videos, House Reviews & House Recaps | TWoP

Aired 01-24-2005

Welcome to the new century! A girl gets busted for cheating on her AP Calculus test via text messages on her cell phone. After getting the answers from her way-too-punked-out-to-be-in-AP-Calculus friend, she stupidly slams her cell phone shut loudly enough that her stereotypically Puritan-outfit-and-glasses-wearing teacher hears it all the way in the front of the room. The teacher marches over to the cheater and demands her cell phone, while a kid in the row starts fidgeting and interrupts to ask to go to the bathroom, or as he calls it, the "bunkroom." Teach says he can in nineteen minutes, when the test is over. "Can't do it!" the kid gasps. I'll bet he'd be embarrassed if he wasn't so about to die. Now everyone in his class will think he has diarrhea and his crush will never agree to go to the prom with him! Teach is still in full-on cheater-catching mode, and asks if the kid has someone with the test answers waiting for him in the bathroom, like he'd wait until nineteen minutes before the test ended to do that. Eventually, Teach agrees to let him use the bathroom as long as he's accompanied by an escort. The kid starts seeing and hearing things, meaning either he's got to go really bad, or he is, as the Cheater Girl says, "really sick." At that point, the kid staggers forward and collapses on the floor. Cheater Girl rushes to his side as Teach yells at her students to keep their eyes on their own work and not on the kid whose eyes are now rolling into the back of his head. Fortunately, Cheater Girl did not use the cell-phone text-messages route when taking her first aid tests, and orders Teach to stop worrying about the AP test and start calling for an ambulance.

For a change, it's Foreman and not Cameron giving House the stats on the latest strange case in the ER. For not a change, House gives his Cottage a hard time about why such a seemingly routine and boring case would be brought to his fleeting attention. He tells Foreman if he cares about the kid so much, he can buy him a card in the gift shop -- preferably one with a good fart joke in it. Boys love fart jokes. They also love, according to House's instadiagnosis, using drugs, which is most likely what's wrong with the kid in the ER. Foreman says that the tox screen was negative, and that he doesn't care about the kid; his interest is purely work-related. I don't know why House is so hung up on whether Foreman has feelings for the kid or his mother, but he takes the case.

We go to the Whiteboard of Symptoms, which has become a Transparent Pane of Symptoms, thereby allowing the camera to do some cool rack focuses between the writing on it and the Cottages. Differential Diagnosis Time! House wants to know how a tox screen would turn up negative when the patient is obviously on drugs, which we know because House said so. Maybe the lab screwed up. Maybe the kid took something that the tox screen doesn't test for, like copy machine toner, which has apparently replaced glue as the legal way kids get high these day. Welcome to the new century. House assigns Foreman to go to the kid's house to find his "stash," figuring Foreman would know all the best hiding places. Foreman protests that he's never even taken drugs. You'd think a current drug addict would be better suited to this task, but I guess if the kid's house has stairs, House is pretty much taken out of the running, so to speak. Cameron is sent to make sure Foreman doesn't dip into any of the kid's battery acid or whatever else it is teens like to do these days.

By Sara M

Chase gets to talk to the patient, named Matt. He asks Matt if he did any drugs. "Pencils down," says Matt. Sounds like a new designer street drug to me. Chase tries to ask again, and Mom comes out from the corner she was hiding in to answer for her son that he doesn't take drugs. Chase says that all parents think their kids don't do drugs, and all of them are wrong, except for Foreman's. Mom says she has proof, too: she secretly gave Matt one of those home drug tests, which doesn't really mean anything if Matt is, in fact, ingesting copy toner. "I didn't want him to know," she says, "because I do trust him." Also because, given what we've seen of Matt's test performance thus far, he might have gone into a panic seizure or something. Chase asks how Mom can both trust her son and give him a secret drug test. Mom doesn't have an answer for that. She just says that all Matt did last night was study and argue with her about proper college interview dress attire. She thinks he should dress like a proper gentleman for them, while Matt wants to wear his own clothes and be himself. She still thinks she's right. Matt protests by having a seizure. House watches the action from outside.

Foreman and Cameron spend time in pleasant suburban New Jersey. They search around Matt's room, and Foreman starts talking about House's little remark about how Foreman would know all the best drug stash locations. Cameron exasperatedly asks if Foreman is going to make this a "racial thing," like the guy who said he hired Cameron because she was hot wouldn't do something like that. Foreman says it's actually because House is an addict himself, and that addicts tend to believe that everyone else is an addict, too. Cameron doesn't think House is an addict. Foreman does. They bicker, and get nowhere, so Cameron changes the subject back to Foreman, and incredulously asks if he really never did any drugs. Foreman asks if this is going to become a "racial thing." Cameron says that deflecting tough questions with a joke is something that a certain alleged Vicodin addict would do. Foreman protests that he's nothing like House. Cameron points out that he's wearing the same "gym shoes," like, is Cameron sixty? Who says "gym shoes"?

House finds Cameron and Foreman in the lab, testing the tomato sauce. "I'm extremely disappointed in you," he says: he sent them out to discover some kick-ass new drugs and they came back with tomato sauce. Foreman takes a minute to look at House's gym shoes, and sure enough, they are identical to Foreman's. As nothing escapes House's watchful eye, he mutters that he got his online, and probably paid half as much for them as Foreman did. I'm surprised he didn't ask Foreman if his street gang lifted them off some white private-school kid at knifepoint. Cameron says botulism, as well as the thousands of other bacteria the tomato sauce could contain, explains all of Matt's symptoms. House grabs a tongue depressor and uses it to sample some of the sauce, hoping for some acute mental confusion. Cameron sputters. Foreman says he expected House to make some "subtle" display of how they're wrong. House says that, indeed, Matt just had a seizure, which rules out both the contaminated food and the drug overdose theory. They're now thinking he was poisoned, and the nurses have been assigned to skin-washing duties.

Cut to Matt getting scrubbed down by no fewer than three lovely nurses! He's going to so mad that he was too unconscious to remember it.

House's latest Clinic patient is complaining of feeling "good." Really good. She's eighty-two, and suddenly, she's noticing colors and hearing music like she's never noticed or heard before. Plus, she's horny. For men with cute butts...and sexy beards. The man who once asked a nun if she had the hots for him is a little put off by the amorous attentions of a senior citizen, and is a little relieved when she starts talking about Ashton Kutcher, who she saw when her son rented her the wrong video, and whom she hasn't stopped thinking about since. The son, who stands in the corner scoffing at the whole thing, does not immediately leave the room when his mother starts talking about her constant fantasy life, like the rest of us probably would. And really, if you're an eighty-two-year-old woman, Ashton Kutcher really makes sense as an attainable fantasy. We all know how he likes the older ladies. Grandma adds that House looks lot like Ashton: they have the same "bedroom eyes." And now, she'd like to remove her shirt so that House can give her a more thorough examination. House quickly says that is not necessary, but that he will have her admitted to the hospital and order some tests. The son doesn't understand why his flaky old mom's silliness requires an admission to the hospital. House explains that when elderly people have sudden personality changes, it's usually not a good sign. The son, on the other hand, could use a personality change, since he is, as House says, "insufferable."

By Sara M

The A-patient gets some medicine that will clear up the organophosphate poisoning they believe he has. Except that we're still about forty minutes from the end of the episode, so we know that what it will really do is make him worse. Mom complains that her son does not seem to be improving with the medicine, and Chase says it usually takes a little time, but that the bloodwork was conclusive, and there's no need to doubt that Matt was poisoned by a pesticide. Monitors start beeping as Matt's heart rate (I think that's what the number on the monitor thing is) drops. Chase whips out the external pacemaker pad things, which will make Matt's heart beat for him.

After the commercial, Chase tells Mom they're going to keep Matt on the pacemaker pads for another hour and "see what happens." Mom's not too thrilled with this policy.

Back at the office, House and the Cottages try to figure this whole mess out. Cameron wonders if they were wrong about the organophosphate poisoning theory, but Foreman says he ran the tests twice and got the same results. So Cameron suggests giving Matt a stronger medication, earning her a sarcastic smackdown from House, who lives by the theory that there's no need to take a weaker drug when there's a stronger one available. Why take an Advil when you've got an unlimited supply of Vicodin? Foreman says that Columbia has actually been developing drugs for the Army that target the specific poisoning the patient has, and therefore are more effective. So if they find out what exactly Matt was exposed to, they can give him the Army drugs and he'll get better. Chase wants to know what the success rate of this still-experimental drug is, and House responds that he's sure it's very high, because this is the U.S. Army: "Be all you can be." Welcome to the new century, House! The new motto is "an Army of one," which House would probably adopt as his personal mantra if he knew about it. Chase says that the chances of Matt's surviving with the drugs they have available to them are "minimal at best," and House accuses him of having a "stiff-upper-lip-British" way of saying the kid is dead meat. "I'm Australian," Chase says. House says that as long as they put the Queen on their money, it's the same thing. Canadians put the Queen on their money, too, but the only people they ever get confused with are Minnesotans. ["Hey! ...Fine, that is true." -- Wing Chun]

Chase does some stuff to the inner workings of Matt's heart while his mother watches and tries not to order everyone around.

Cameron and her ugly drapery coat check out the tool shed.

House enters a patient floor, and is greeted by Wilson, who recites a love poem to the delight of the entire staff:

"Ode to House"

The healer with his magic powers,
I could rub his gentle brow for hours.
His manly chest, his stubbled jaw,
everything about him leaves me raw
with joy. Oh House, your very name,
will never leave this girl the same.

Sorry, all you Wilson/House shipper people, but the poem was not written by Wilson, but by, of course, Grandma Sex. "Chicks with no teeth turn me on," House says. "That's...fairly disgusting," Wilson answers. "And that's ageism," House replies. Wilson tells House to "watch" himself, hands him Grandma's test results, and leaves to write another love poem to House that he can blame on Grandma Sex. House checks out the results and pronounces them "impressive." Then he gets a call from Cameron. Her jealousy detector was pinging, so she decided it was time to remind House of her existence as well as inform him that she found an empty can of disulfoton at Matt's house.

Chase gets ready to administer the Army drugs, but Mom isn't too sure about this; she says that the garden was Matt's school project, and that he wasn't allowed to use pesticides on it, so he dumped out whatever was in that can and put orange peel oil in it, and used that as an organic pesticide. Chase says that Matt was probably cheating on his school project, at which point Cheater Girl and her punk rawk friend come in to visit Matt, hear that their latest cheating scam has been exposed, and run away to dispose of the evidence before they're caught by the AP Gardening test committee. Mom asks what the drugs will do to Matt if they're wrong about the pesticide, and Chase they'll make him worse, which is a moot point since they're not wrong. But Mom has seen this show before, and she knows that the first medicine is always wrong, and won't let Chase give it to her son.

House goes to Cuddy to get a court order to give Matt the drugs. Cuddy doesn't see how they can prove that Mom is mentally incompetent just because she disagrees with House. In fact, some would say that just proves how sane she is. For instance, look at Cameron. When she isn't agreeing with and defending House's diagnoses, she's crying over a centrifuge and making every single case relate to her problems and issues.

By Sara M

Chase does some stuff to the inner workings of Matt's heart while his mother watches and tries not to order everyone around.

Cameron and her ugly drapery coat check out the tool shed.

House enters a patient floor, and is greeted by Wilson, who recites a love poem to the delight of the entire staff:

"Ode to House"

Chase and Cameron go to investigate the one link they've found between the two sick kids: the school bus. The driver is hesitant to let them in, but changes his mind when they tell him what's at stake.

Margo bitches to Foreman that House said "horrible" things to her in order to make her agree to give her son medicine that turned out to be wrong. Foreman says that House thought it was the right medication at the time and wanted to do whatever it took to get it to his patient. Margo says that if they had listened to her assertion that Matt had thrown the pesticide out, they would have known better. Foreman says that House just assumed that Margo was wrong, which patients and their families usually are. "You're just as pompous and superior as he is!" Margo exclaims. Foreman is devastated at the comparison. Hee hee hee.

The bus driver tells Cameron and Chase the exact location where Matt and Chi sit on his school bus. Either that bus has assigned seating, or being OCD about where you sit is one of the first symptoms of the mystery poisoning. Driver says he noticed a rash in his groin area recently and is worried that he, too, has been affected by the poison. Cameron reassures him that groin rashes are not a symptom. Chase says that being obnoxious isn't one either, so the driver is safe. Oh, stop trying to be House, Chase! Only Foreman can do that. Chase checks out the inside of the bus while Cameron asks the driver if there was any spraying going on on his bus route. Driver says there was a truck spraying some funny-smelling chemicals.

Speaking of funny, House goes to check on his elderly, lustful patient, and she is delighted to see him. The son isn't, so House asks him to take his annoying self out of the room. Grandma Sex apologizes for her son's crankiness and says she would like him to stay in the room. House asks Grandma Sex if she's had sex recently. Grandma says she's hit a "dry spell." A fifteen-year-long dry spell. I wish she hadn't used the word "dry" there. Ew. Ew. Ew. Son says that the dry spell is actually just eight years long, since that was when his father died. What are you even still doing in the room, Son? The second someone asks my mom about her sexual activity is the second I am out of the room, down the elevator, out of the building, into the parking garage, and driving away until my gas tank runs out. Grandma Sex points out that just because her husband was alive doesn't mean he was doin' it. House says that Grandma Sex has got herself some syphilis. Son is aghast, like after hearing all about his mother's sexual fantasies and desires, THAT would be the thing he had a problem with. Grandma Sex doesn't look all that surprised by the diagnosis, which House notices. She says they used to call it "Cupid's Disease" back in the days when soda used to cost a nickel and penny candy really did cost a penny. She's had it since Prom Night 1939 (soon-to-be-regretted theme: We Love the Germans!). I wonder if Grandma Sex and her prom date did it to then-top twenty hit "Beer Barrel Polka," a bit of trivia that just makes me all the happier that I wasn't born sixty years ago. Son says he always thought his father was Grandma Sex's first love, like, how to you get to be his age and still entertain the notion that your parents aren't human like the rest of us? Grandma Sex says he was, but that doesn't mean she didn't have screw around before she met him. Son looks over at House, who just shrugs and reconsiders his position on restricting patient contact, since this is even more entertaining than General Hospital. Grandma Sex says she was treated for the syphilis, which House says only served to suppress the disease for the last sixty years. Now it's back and eating her brain cells. "Oh! That's revolting," Grandma Sex says. I see the brain damage has spread to whatever part of the cerebral cortex monitors the correct use of the word "revolting," which I think better describes discussing your high-school backseat prom sex in front of your son. House agrees, sort of; he thinks chlamydia-caused "seepage" is much more revolting than syphilitic brain damage. He welcomes Grandma Sex to the new century with a prescription for penicillin. She should be feeling better in two weeks. "I guess for the two weeks, I'd better practice safe sex!" says Grandma Sex, who is a lot more hopeful than you'd expect someone in the fifteenth year of her dry spell to be.

The Cottages surround House with the news that some mosquito-killing stuff was sprayed around recently to prevent the spread of West Nile Virus. They're ready to give the kids the medicine for that, but Margo won't let them do it. House orders Foreman to go and win her over, but Foreman says Margo hates him now, too. Cameron is the only person out of the four who isn't hated by someone, which is more due to the fact that she hasn't actually met Margo yet than anything else, obviously.

Before Cameron can get her spiel about why they should give Matt the medicine rolling, Margo announces that she's transferring Matt to a different hospital, where the doctors aren't assholes. Good luck with that, Momma. She has also sought a second opinion from the CDC, and won't let anyone do anything to her son until she gets it. Cameron tries to go for the empathy route by starting a story about her sick grandmother, which probably would have been more effective on the family of our B-plot patient, as Margo cuts her off at the pass and says she doesn't want any "vulnerable honesty" from the single woman they thought would get along best with the single mother. Since this (along with just about everything else anyone ever says) is a touchy subject for the Widow Cameron, she angrily responds that she is a real live doctor, sent to tell Margo that if she doesn't let Matt have the treatment, he'll die, and that it will be Margo's fault. Margo needs to give them a yes or a no "right now." "I don't know," says Margo. "Figure it out," Cameron snaps. Well, so much for "right now." When Cameron moves to leave, Margo tells her to wait.

Cameron injects some Army drugs into Matt's IV. Foreman does the same with to Chi. After a short montage of IV drips, sick kids, and concerned parents, both Chi and Matt have seizures. I'd to think that Cameron's response to the news -- running in the opposite direction of the patient rooms -- was sheer panic brought on by complete lack of skill. You know, I told myself before this recap that I was really going to try and give Cameron a fair shot in this episode, where, for once, she didn't really do anything that objectionable. Problem is, when she's not being objectionable, she's not really doing anything at all. As Chase treats Matt, Margo yells at everyone for killing her son. Hey, wouldn't you?

Foreman and Cameron inform House that both patients are almost dead, so it looks like they were wrong about that particular poisoning theory, and the treatment they gave them, of course, made everything worse. House uses the fact that the kids' hearts are crapping out so much more quickly than their rest of their bodies to conclude that they ingested the poison through their skin sometime between when they woke up and before they boarded the bus. Cameron and Foreman will be going to both patients' houses to see if they have any skin products, such as acne cream or deodorant, in common. And if Cameron could bring back some more of Margo's tomato sauce, that'd be great.

By Sara M

Grandma says she's hit a "dry spell." A fifteen-year-long dry spell. I wish she hadn't used the word "dry" there. Ew. Ew. Ew. Son says that the dry spell is actually just eight years long, since that was when his father died. What are you even still doing in the room, Son? The second someone asks my mom about her sexual activity is the second I am out of the room, down the elevator, out of the building, into the parking garage, and driving away until my gas tank runs out. Grandma Sex points out that just because her husband was alive doesn't mean he was doin' it. House says that Grandma Sex has got herself some syphilis. Son is aghast, like after hearing all about his mother's sexual fantasies and desires, THAT would be the thing he had a problem with. Grandma Sex doesn't look all that surprised by the diagnosis, which House notices. She says they used to call it "Cupid's Disease" back in the days when soda used to cost a nickel and penny candy really did cost a penny. She's had it since Prom Night 1939 (soon-to-be-regretted theme: We Love the Germans!). I wonder if Grandma Sex and her prom date did it to then-top twenty hit "Beer Barrel Polka," a bit of trivia that just makes me all the happier that I wasn't born sixty years ago. Son says he always thought his father was Grandma Sex's first love, like, how to you get to be his age and still entertain the notion that your parents aren't human like the rest of us? Grandma Sex says he was, but that doesn't mean she didn't have screw around before she met him. Son looks over at House, who just shrugs and reconsiders his position on restricting patient contact, since this is even more entertaining than General Hospital. Grandma Sex says she was treated for the syphilis, which House says only served to suppress the disease for the last sixty years. Now it's back and eating her brain cells. "Oh! That's revolting," Grandma Sex says. I see the brain damage has spread to whatever part of the cerebral cortex monitors the correct use of the word "revolting," which I think better describes discussing your high-school backseat prom sex in front of your son. House agrees, sort of; he thinks chlamydia-caused "seepage" is much more revolting than syphilitic brain damage. He welcomes Grandma Sex to the new century with a prescription for penicillin. She should be feeling better in two weeks. "I guess for the two weeks, I'd better practice safe sex!" says Grandma Sex, who is a lot more hopeful than you'd expect someone in the fifteenth year of her dry spell to be.

House and Chase enter Chi's room and ask the parents if their "nice, respectful Asian kid" did his nice, respectful Asian laundry this nice, respectful Asian morning. Mom report that Chi doesn't even know how to use a laundry machine, because she likes to keep her clothes cleaning methods an ancient Chinese secret. And anyways, all of Chi's clothes were new and unwashed. Even his underwear, apparently. I would never wear underwear without washing it first, but I'm not a teenage boy, either. Or Asian. ["I know someone who works closely with underwear, and since I know for a fact that when they're alone in the store unpacking their stock, they sometimes crack each other up by putting panties on their heads, you should always wash new underwear before you wear it." -- Wing Chun]

House and Chase go downstairs to see if Matt's jeans are new, too. While they look faded and beat up, House notices that the label is brand-new. Looks like Matt enjoys the shabby chic look. "Hundred dollars for the homeless look," House says. House orders both boys' clothes to be tested. And so it was, by the Cottages, whose knowledge of lab techniques really knows no bounds. I didn't even think hospitals had the equipment to test the pesticide content of fabric.

In House's office, Wilson informs us all that he never washes his new clothes before he wears them, because he wasn't in my seventh-grade Home Economics class, where we had to watch a decades-old film strip about the importance good personal hygiene and washing new clothes before wearing them, the first of which I already knew and the second of which I never imagined would come in handy. And yet, here we are. House twirls his cane and says he's sure Wilson's wife washes his clothes for him. Wilson says she doesn't, because his marriage is In Trouble. Foreman and Chase enter with the lab results. They've identified the poison, but Margo won't let them administer the treatment to her son. I can't imagine why. House tells them to have Cameron try to talk her into it again, but Chase says that won't work this time; only the CDC will get Margo to do anything. "Godot would be faster," Wilson snorts. Yes, but I'll bet waiting for the CDC would be a lot less boring.

House enters Matt's room and hands Margo a mug. She puts it on a counter without drinking it, just in case House slipped her some drug that he thought would help her but is actually fatal. House pulls up a chair, whips out his portable TV and a small bottle of Army drugs, and says he's just going to hang out there in case Margo changes her mind. Margo says she'll make a decision after she hears from the CDC. House says the CDC will probably get back to her in a few days or weeks, and their answer will most likely be that they can't make a decision based solely on Matt's records. Meanwhile, House is pretty sure that soap-opera character "Susie" will never marry her fiancé because he's poor. That Susie and her gold-digging ways! And then Margo's cell phone rings. It's the CDC, and they have some problem with Matt's records that prevents them from giving her any advice whatsoever. Margo hates being powerless. She orders House to give Matt the drug.

By Sara M

House limps out of his office and into Grandma Sex, who says she snuck out of her house to see her boyfriend without her son and his stepfather-resentment issues around to get between them. Perhaps House could take the son out on a fishing trip or off to chop wood so he and House could have a chance to bond? House tells Grandma Sex that he's very sorry, but that he knows from experience that syphilitic brain damage does not a basis for a good relationship make. Plus, he finds it difficult to chop wood with a bum leg. Grandma Sex asks if it's just the syphilis that has given her all these new "feelings" (in all sense of the word, I'd say). House says it is. Grandma Sex says, in that case, she'd like to keep her syphilis, and returns the prescription to House. She'd rather die feeling sexy and loving Ashton from afar than playing canasta all day long or whatever it is that the unsexy old folks do to live out the rest of their days. House actually smiles, then says that he has some great news: Grandma Sex's brain damage is irreversible! The drugs will only keep it from getting worse and causing the slightly-less-pleasant brain damage we all hear so much about. Grandma Sex is "doomed to feeling good for the rest of [her] life," House says with a smile, probably because he's high on the Vic, which will be making him feel good for the rest of his life as well. A thrilled Grandma Sex goes to give House a hug, but he asks her to respect the boundaries of the doctor-patient relationship. "When I stop being contagious, I'll come back for a checkup," Grandma Sex says with a wink. Well, she's got self-confidence, I'll give her that. House chuckles as he watches her go, and then limps off to fire the person who keeps telling his patients where his office is.

By Sara M

Cameron and Foreman check out the kids' bathrooms simultaneously and communicate their findings by cell phone. They're not having much luck with a common bathroom item, as the boys use different deodorants and shampoos. Chi uses Johnson's No-Tears Formula, which I didn't think anyone over the age of one used.

Foreman and Cameron call House to report their findings. Welcome to the new century: they've all got three-way-calling on their cell phones AND they know how to use it, putting them all miles ahead of me; I still don't understand how to use the call waiting feature. Every time someone calls on the other line, I end up hanging up on the original call. House suggests checking out the laundry detergent. Both find "TKO" brand laundry detergent, which I assumed was the culprit since it's the only thing mentioned thus far that isn't an actual brand. (I think. At least, I've never seen it in the grocery store.) House tells them to bring in the detergent.

By Sara M

House leaves the room and walks into Chase, who hands House a cell phone and does his best Southern gentleman CDC official impersonation, which sounds a lot like Matthew McConaughey. House isn't impressed with it, and can't believe it fooled Margo. Aw, give her a break! She's under a lot of pressure.

We wait to see if the drug works in another IV drips/ sick kids/ nervous parents/ hopeful doctors montage. Wilson -- who, I have to point out, is a cancer doctor with absolutely nothing to do with either of these cases -- is there too. Just as House is about to go watch his stories or make some delicious pasta with that new sauce, Wilson calls him back. Matt has opened his eyes, and his heart is working again. Chi does the same.

By Sara M

Cameron's now on wheelchair-pushing duty, a task performed by volunteers Matt's age at the hospital I worked in. They really need to stop spending money on the doctor's lounges and hallway décor start hiring staff at that place. On the other hand, I think it's best for all concerned if Cameron's contact with patients is limited to pushing them around. Cameron tells Matt that he should make a full recovery, provided that he doesn't wear any more poisoned pants. Matt says he had a feeling they were stolen when he bought them for five bucks out of the back of some guy's truck, but he got them anyway. Well, that's what you get. time, you'll shell out that extra ninety-five dollars, won't you? Was this episode written by the mall? Oh, I'm just mad because my theory about the fake laundry detergent ended up being wrong. Margo says that she's not mad at Matt, and has realized that she needs to be less controlling. So, she's going to "let" Matt spend the week before he retakes the AP test in bed working on his college applications. Baby steps, Margo. Baby steps.

Foreman tells House that their poisoned-pants salesman also worked on a corn field, and used his truck for both jobs. The farm pesticide was spilled on the pants, and the guy didn't bother cleaning it up. Go to Abercrombie and Fitch for all your expensive cruddy jeans needs; mystery solved. They leave for the day, and walk right on into Margo, Matt, and Cameron. Margo says the CDC just called "again." Cameron makes a hilarious "I am outta here before this gets messy!" face and continues wheeling Matt away from what is sure to be a scene of alpha female carnage. But House just says "oops," and Margo walks away with a smile. I have to imagine her reaction would have been somewhat different had Matt died.

Margo catches up to Matt, who asks whom she was just talking to. "They're the arrogant jerks that saved your life," Margo says. You'll notice Cameron was not included in the list of people who saved Matt's life. I'm just saying. House and Foreman enter the elevator together. They look at each other, and then down at their identical gym shoes. Foreman makes a mental note to visit his local mall's Foot Locker, where a variety of exciting shoe brands and styles can be purchased, while House wonders if the fact that he got his pair for cheap online means that they're filled with pesticides.

House TV Show - Oedipus Complex - House Photos &amp; Videos, House Reviews &amp; House Recaps | TWoP

House TV Show - Oedipus Complex - House Photos & Videos, House Reviews & House Recaps | TWoP