Dr. Greg House, MD

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?