Love in an Elevator.

What’s this I see? Do mine eyes deceive me or have the good people of Port Charles actually started a brand new day for the first time in over a month? Well, thank the soap gods and pop the champagne — we survived the boredom and the idiocy!

Of course, lapses in logic and continuity are old hat for GH viewers by now. Stairways impassable to trained and equipped firefighters but perfectly usable to every other character? Sure! Toxic, airborne chemicals instantly destroyed by fire? Fine! Babies in trees? Whatever.

Characters who try my patience, sanity, and blood pressure (I’m looking at you, Winifred) are certainly nothing new. What did shock me about this latest crisis? The characters who didn’t:

Carly and Lulu.

(Yes, that Carly and Lulu. The ones normally neck in neck in the self-absorption and hatefulness sweepstakes. I know — I don’t quite know what to make of it either.)

But as the toxic balls dropped and the fires raged — er, mildly simmered — something truly surprising happened. Carly became a calm, kind, helpful voice of reason. She kept her cool in the conference room, consoled Edward with grace and empathy, gave Lulu some very sound advice about Johnny, and, in offering her services to Epiphany, was one of the very few people running around who actually did anything useful the entire time. By the time she was accidentally-on-purpose ramming Claudia’s wheelchair into doorways and reacting hilariously to the ridiculousness of Sonny’s harem stuck together in one place —

All Sonny's Women

— she’d well and truly won my heart.

Of course, it also doesn’t hurt that Laura Wright looks insanely fresh and pretty in her loose pony and scrubs. Put it all together and the end result is that the last few weeks have found me actually liking Carly for the first time in nearly a decade.

All of which left me in exactly the right frame of mind for this afternoon’s elevator sex shenanigans with Jax. I have my issues with this couple — Lord, do I ever have issues with this couple — but even I have to admit that this was both cute and sexy:

Love in an Elevator

On sex starved GH, I count just about any lovin’ as good lovin’ (except for Sonny lovin’ — there’s not enough brain bleach in the world for that), but light-hearted, fun sex is such a rarity as to be nearly non-existent. More, please!

Frankly, if Carly keeps up this new streak of likeability and sexiness, I really don’t know what I’ll do. It’s unnatural to hear her voice and not feel rage. My world is all askew!


Then, there’s Lulu.

She lost points for starting out the monthday crisis sporting this fashion atrocity:

the horror...

Yes, that really is a bright green cardigan over a scrunchy, metallic, 80s mini-skirt tutu. For an entire month.

(I’ve long suspected that the stylists behind the scenes at GH loathe Lulu as much as I do since they seem to take much joy in dressing her as hideously as possible. And for the most part, I appreciate that. I really think this one counts as cruel and unusual punishment for the viewers, though.)

She lost even more points for spending the first two weeks of the crisis whining to anyone who would listen about her fight with Johnny — even as people around her were dropping dead, her ex-sister in-law and step-mother were deathly ill, her roommate and supposed friend was reported missing in a snow storm after being in a car wreck, and her brother, recently recovered from a brain tumor which induced hallucinations of his dead wife, apparently started seeing visions again. Note to Lulu: when even Carly is displaying more compassion and work ethic than you are, it’s time to start reevaluating your life choices. Also, lose the skirt. Please.

But then, miracle of all miracles, Lulu actually seemed to wake up and realize there were bigger things going on than a spat with her boyfriend. She stuck by Tracy’s side like glue. She comforted a stricken Elizabeth. And once she got on the ground, she took Maxie’s recitation of Johnny’s heroic deeds with a remarkable lack of smug, jealous bitchface. I thought when she abruptly left for Mercy that she might be reverting to selfish, jealous form, but no — she really did want to check on Tracy again. And — God help me — she was actually funny and sweet with her.

Lulu. Bed pan. 'Nuff said.

She followed up that command performance by being reasonable and considerate with Johnny today before rushing off to not only do her job — a noteworthy event in and of itself — but do it competently.

Lulu? Work ethic? WTF?!

Will wonders never cease?

So here’s to Lulu and Carly: characters most improved by exposure to toxic balls! (No, that’s never going to stop being funny. Yes, I am twelve. Why do you ask?)


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