Dr. Greg House, MD

To hell with it. No doom so far. And if it happens, I know who to blame. Or if reason has any weight in this ridiculousness, since this is a later challenge there could be time to prepare, call in bribes. Whatever means necessary.

Growth hold obvious relevance in the medical world. From the time we are born to the age of two our craniums are measured regularly to check growth progress. Abnormal numbers above or below the norm could be a sign of one or more of the following:

• Chronic disease
• Emotional (psychosocial) health
• Genetics
• Infection
• Poor nutrition

Life is still in the equation. Big or small headed people alike can tell you that. Look around you. With the aid of hormones and with a possibility of a close to normal life outside of the circus or the next Austin Powers movie. Dramatic differences on the other hand leave the door open for other issue possibilities gastrointestinal problems that prompt a slow or stunted growth due to digestive enzymes, cerebral palsy to throw out a few rockstars of the category. And all of this is possible within the first leg of life. Makes you wonder by what miracle or luck of the draw this many people pass through the first round of the real Real World.

And we continually grow. We get older, our capacity for learning becomes more complicated with critical thinking, memorization, and any kind of social upbringing. These are all dependent on were we go from the start. Genes get blamed, it's the genetics passed down from our parents and their parents. Health is more than possible in early life. Then comes that oh so sudden decline of aging, ready willing and able to put it's hand into the grab bag of genetic issues that your Grandma's cousin first removed had.

Growth usually has such a positive connotation. You grow ill. You grow weary. Growth can also mean progression. Tumors for one thing. Flesh eating viruses grow.  Or Joseph Merrick experienced growth and then some. Who said it was a happy subject?

There.

Give me my prize.

[IMG. uploaded to network: It's a note written on yellow, lined paper. This piece of paper has been taped to a door. The only part of the door that's legible (That damn note is in the way!) is ous, MD. Who could that ever be?

The note reads: "To Whom It May Concern: You've come this far and need help. Think carefully, because you're perfectly capable of doing so on your own. 1) Have you used every option possible? 2) Are you sure? I would never think to call you a liar. I would love to drop everything I'm doing to help you. And migraines make you more delightful. If 1) and 2) have been covered and you still have a problem. Please knock."]

This month I lost my personal space rendered a captive to a curse stuck with the most hyper social doctor from Down Under. I'm able to talk about it right now because I'm so well adjusted. This experience reminds me that Valentine's Day is coming up. I think you all remember now too thanks to that last curse. So in preparation for that blessed day, I've prepared some literature.

( Roses are Red, Violets are Blue... )

Private to Wilson;
Shouldn't you be the one saying 'we should talk' so that I can feign ignorance then we go from there?

I don't know what you were angry about. That was a curse. Those leave memories. You'd tell me...eventually. Otherwise your silence tells me that not only do you not remember why you were angry but you want to forget that you were angry at all to begin with. If I'm right, help me get this ball rolling because pretending that everything's fine from the get go is a stretch even for me.
end;

[voice;]

[A song plays, at first it is the only sound. It's irritating. After the first chorus, it lowers so that House can talk over it easily.]

Catscratch Fever is easier to say than Cytauxzoonisis Felis--try saying that three times fast. It's actually caused by ticks not cats. The symptoms aligned with our current cast of disease thanks to our itchy friends. Back tracking showed the patient became Whiskers the Wonder Kitty. That changes everything. What took so long is that our buddy Billy isn't a cat anymore, I'm not, nor will I ever be, a vet. The results come out in the wash. Why? Because I'm just that good.

The patient be treated with Dr. Frontline Plus after the transfusion. I suggest to his roommates that when he's done you get him vaxinated.Maybe think about getting him fixed. You can never be too careful.

One more point for me.
[end;]

[ooc; Heeey sorry for slow tags and a few dropped ones. My birthday was Wednesday, the party is still kinda rollin'. Thanks for your understanding.]

Despite the fact this is my sixty-ninth entry, there's a lack of NC-17 material. I'll work on that. Don't you worry.

I've been preoccupied by the latest Twin Peaks involvement. Wilson, doctor, man, mouse and pushover, has a pint-size, adolescent doppelganger. I used to think that the whole concept of doubles was for the most part reserved for prime-time science fiction like Star Trek or to a lesser degree of entertainment merit, daytime soap operas. Oh yeah, and City curses. All of which we can chalk up to being fabrications. In this case, Mini Wi looks like he's here to stay.

My Back to the Future know how are only as limited as the material. With contact at a minimal and with him decidedly not Wilson, I suppose that the best form of action is to treat him like every other young person I've been acquainted with.

Mini Wilson isn't even the worst of it. Check this out. Yes, I can read. And I do. See. Blond. What? Who thought this was okay? I think that the deities need to go back to writing 101. Or someone does.  Cameron, I'd check twice if I were you. Ask him about wombats. I'd sooner hit him than speak to him if it was the real Chase. So far no hitting or speaking.

Eden, do you have any more surprise job applicants for me? The latest isn't bad. She's not that good, but she'll do.

All of this and more reminds me, I need to refill my prescription. I'll be in my office after that. Forever. Who knows when Cuddy will drop in as-- Hell if I know. A warrior princess?

I haven't been home in way to many days. Vicodin supply is decent. Nurses are still in that hazy 5 to 7 on a ten scale. I think that in case of an emergency I'll be stashing some Penthouse magazines in my office. And a temperpedic pillow.

Whether or not this late night movie madness is a curse or someone else's booboo (wouldn't be the first time), it's interesting to see the stages of death in fast forward.

• Pallor Mortis -> Instantaneous upon infection. At least that is what it looks like through a telescope. Dr. Peep. N. Tom, present.
• Algor Mortis -> I wasn't able to get a hands on check for that. Didn't look like the infected had a sense of temperature. Or at least were smart enough to sport coats. How nice of them.
• Rigor Mortis-> Got stiffed by the City.
• Livor Mortis-> Brief, very brief by the looks of it. Then again, a cappilary study from my crowsnest wasn't happening.
• Decomposition -> The last stop on the infection freak train. No CGI here.

Whatever this is or whatever we want to call it, Necroflu, cold death, zombiAIDs, it is too contagious to study under a microscope given the rate it spreads. I guess it is a breed of retrovirus-something that attacks RNA. Which leads me to an exciting point: when the infected or food run out, how long do we wait until all of this is considered 'passed.' We don't know where it came from. Do we know where it is going?

I want to go home just as much as everybody else does. I suggest an extended lock down. But only if window watching gets any better. This would have been a blockbuster. Until someone watched Jurassic Park. The mixed media interrupted the tone and flow of plot. I'll have to take my B rating down to a D for straight to DVD in the two dollar bin at Walmart.

I'd Tap That
Anya (every kid's dream)
Anita Blake (with or without the cuffs, I'm flexible)
Faye Valentine (booty shorts. Do I need to say more?)
Dr. Martha Jones (we got a thing, goin on.)
Rose Tyler (cute, there's sexy in there somewhere)
Giselle (it'd be so wrong but so right.)
Abby Sciutto (there's dirty, kink I know it)


People I Wish Awful, Terrible Misfortunes On (Something Like this Curse Only Worse)
FCC
Justin Timberlake
Tritter
Foreman
Whoever Thought It Was a Good Idea to Let Britney Spears Do What She Wants
Chase
Dad

..........Thanks.