Archive for: May 2007

“Oh! I’m sorry! Are you talking? Because I’ve decided to keep my finger on the button, so I actually can’t hear anything that’s going on in there. But, for fairness’ sake, I’ve decided to do your end of the conversation. It goes a little something like this: “Blah-blah, blah-blah-blah, blah-blah-blah, cool hip-hop lingo, blah-blah, blah-blah-blah.” Anyway, I’ve come up with a whole new plan about Mr. Iverson. If you wanna take that liver away from him just because you and I are having some kind of personal beef, then you go and tell the man yourself.” –>

“Oh, hello, and welcome to McSurgeon’s. May I take your order? “Yeah, I was thinking about getting a simple operation with no unexpected complications, please?” Oh, gosh, here I’m sorry, we’re fresh out of those. But! If you have a child, maybe you’d like to try one of our Infection Meals! That’ll be seven thousand dollars, please pay at the second window.” –>

“Ohhh, hey Dr. Turk, you old turtle-headed pain in the ass. Aw! Dammit all, Perry, that is so not what you came down here to say! Now you’re better than that! Turn the car around!” –>

“Hey, Bobbo, now when the dark prince does finally call you home, please promise me that you’ll donate your body to science. And I don’t mean medical science, I mean NASA. Because when those buzz-cuts have all but given up on trying to figure out just exactly what a black hole is, and they get one look at that space where your heart was supposed to be, well by-gum, you know they’re just gonna say, “Awwww, shucks! That’s what it is!” –>

“Lookit, here’s the rule, there, porn-star: The moment her toothbrush hits your sink, you’ve got yourself a permanent roomie.” –>

“About a year ago, Jordan said she wanted to “crash for a while.” Now my office is a nursery, my closet is my office, my clothes are in the entertainment center, and my TV is in the john, which I guess is kind of nice…I don’t even know anymore.” –>

“Here that’s interesting. Of course, it’s gibberish, but it’s–it’s interesting nonetheless. I’m gonna go ahead and pass, and here’s why: You’re a typical surgeon, and as a rule you guys are insensitive and egotistical and you have the sense of humor of about a fourth grader.” –>

“I don’t know what you’re talking about, there, butch. I don’t know if you’re sucking up to me or making a pass at me, but I say you skip it and we continue in our state of mutual disdain.” –>

“Relax, Newbie, the gimp is chained up.” –>

“I think that your fiancé is a self-involved, bobble-headed jock itch who is not good enough for you. Not now, not ever.” –>