Category: Put Downs

Listen up, there, Molly Menopause, I need you to quiet the hell down, you’re scaring everyone in the hospital. I mean, my God – they’re delivering a baby upstairs, and the poor kid’s using the umbilical cord to crawl the hell back in.

Bottom line: We’ll be bestest friends foreverest if you just keep your face out of my face. Uh-huh.

Great moment, there, dumb-ass. It starts out with a profound misunderstanding of how the human body works, and winds up with you shattering some old man’s hand.

Eh, I’m tired. Maybe he is from the International Pretentious Association, and he’s here to remove your goatee.

Gosh, I’m sorry, nervous guy, but I just can’t do your work for you. But, what do you say you head on down to the library and look it up in the New England Journal of Who Gives a Rat’s Ass?

Hey, look, Gandhi, now just because you broke out your little Fisher-Price surgery set and somehow managed to not kill somebody for once, doesn’t mean you’re queen of the world.

Hold that thought, Newbie…. One, two, three, four…. My new thing is to count just exactly how many people in any given room can kick your ass. And in here, the number is four.

Or…we could skip the day-trip to Unnecessary Land and instead simply concede that Mrs. Wilk is my patient and that, while we are both attendings, we are in no way equals – we are in fact not equals. We are – hmmm! – unequals.

you look like the guy who goes to a garage sale, buys a bronze star, pins it to his lapel, and then tells everybody to call him Sarge.” And Newbie, nobody likes that guy. Not a soul.”

Come on! I’m simply posing so your boyfriend can get a picture of me for his People Who Make Me Feel Like a Little Girl” scrapbook.”