Category: Rants

“Well, now, Gandhi, since you don’t grasp the fact that I think you’re incompetent, ladies and gentlemen, pay attention please: presenting the world’s longest “Shoosh”. Mmh…Shhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhh. I’m goin’ to go ahead and…stop. I’m not committing the way I normally do. When you go away I’ll regroup, maybe see you later.” –>

“Kelso lies selfishly and indiscriminately; you, you gotta draw your own line. This is half an Ibuprofen, it’s just the perfect dose for your pea-size brain, take it after I leave, you’ll save yourself the embarassment.”
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“You know, you are one special lady, Carla. It’s not every wife that works a full shift, and goes home to change baby’s diapers while her husband and his girlfriend spend the weekend mooning truckers and playing slut-bug. (…)If you keep letting Gandhi do wheter he pleases when…ever he pleases, while you take care of the baby, eventually, you’re not even gonna have time to shave your legs or groove your face thus making the most prominent male figure in your daughter life…You.”
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“We are working. You see, even though we currently despise each other, we’re professionals. For example, I can lend Barbie a hand despite the fact that she is a heartless “red state” supporting , NRA backing and illegal immigrant hating self-righteous misinformed dope - essentially Karl Rove with smaller boobs.”
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“Still, you’re not nearly as bad as her. Do you know how much you annoy me? The answer is: a lot. Should I list the reasons why?Well, I don’t see why not. It’s your hair, your nose, your chinless face, you always need a hug. Not to mention all the manly appletinis that you chug. That you think I am your mentor just continues to perplex. And, oh my God, stop telling me when you have nerdy sex. (…) See now, Newbie? That’s the thing you do that drives me up a tree. ‘Cos no matter how I rant at you, you never let me be. So I’m stuck with all your daydreaming, your wish to be my son.It makes me suicidal and I’m not the only one, no I’m not the only one…(…) So now that is why I call you names like Carol, Jane and Sue. Like Moesha, Kim and Lilly and Suzanne and Betty Lou. Regardless of the names I pick my feelings are quite clear. You’re a pain in every day of every month of every year. (…)If you want some kind of favor, really any kind of favor, please just get me peace and quiet from this godforsaken pest.”
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“Laverne, if I accidentally backed my car over Barbie for sticking me with the worlds most annoying patient, what do you think your boy jesus would do? (…) He is a merciful god, is he not? Just tell her I’m still working, I have no idea what time I’m going to get off and just go ahead and eat the entire mattress. I mean, for the love of god! I spend the entire day with patients and the entire night with her. I need a hide-out.”
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“I don’t want to go home. Ever since Jordan entered her third trimester, she has become a needy, bloated Behemoth with a temper as big as her tree trunk-size cankles and besides, even if I did go home, she’d probably just send me out on a food run to satiate one of her insane cravings.”
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“Oh yes, the huddled masses. Carla! I see you’re trying one of this etablishment disgusting new tomato muffin. Do you know who elses just love tomatoes? Our little orange friends, Mr Mehleison. As you correctly pointed out, the only thing he like more than tomatoes are carrots. And if carrots turn you yellow and tomato turn you red, what color would he most likely turn if he would have gorge himself on both those items. (…)Correct. And Gandhi, I understand that you are confuse why private practice Barbie has a beef with you and your scorning little life partner. (…)Yes but even though that horny old raisin is acting like an ass in doing so, he actualy aknowledging that she’s ready to move on professionnaly. Guess who hasn’t aknowledged that? (…) Dear god, Barbie we get the point. This roughly be my time. Now newbie, as far as your patient is concerned. Takotsubo cardiomyopathy, ever heard of it? (…) Takotsubo cardiomyopathy also known as broken heart syndrom is one severe emotional trauma triggers a weakening of the heart muscle. On her chart, you indicate that she was single, yet I noticed that she was still wearing her wedding ring. Turns out her husband has just died and she wasn’t ready to take the ring of yet. I’m betting that her grief over his passing is what cause her heart failure. And no, no, I’m not superman, I’m just Dr Cox. Thanks for the coffee.”
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“That answer was either very sarcastic or very stupid. Either way I’m whacking you with my clipboard brace yourself. (…) That’s it I’m waking both of you. Look, I know you all curl up on your futons at night dreaming of cracking a real life medical mystery so that some doctor / supermodel will want to touch your eruption button. But, here’s the bad news, this isn’t a tv show, there aren’t any cameras over here, real medical mysteries don’t happen every week and doctor damn sure don’t look like models, they look like Rex. (…) Chin up, you ugly bastard. So if you wanna solve a real mystery, go ahead and figure out who’s taking my NY Times every sunday. Or better yet how about why anybody on the planet actually thinks Dan Cook is funny. As far as Mr Pierce goes, he has run-of-the-mill pulmonary embolism and I know, I know it is a boring medical diagnosys. But that’s what hospitals are : boring.”
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“Blondie! He is private practice. Those guys are cocky jackasses who don’t give two shakes about anybody else’s opinion but their own. They’re…they’re me, with one addendum: They’re whores. And I’m not talking about the good kind of whores like my ex-wife. They’re whores for money.” –>