Category: Rants

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.”

In the brief eighteen months that Jordan and I weren’t together, how many of you had your way with her? Bear in mind, I’m gonna need absolute honesty here or I will brain you. – Anyway, whoever taught Jordan that reverse cowgirl position…it’s long overdue, but thank you.

All right, listen up and listen good. I will kill anyone who tells Carla. That includes you, Mrs. London. I will save your life. Then I will take it away. Let’s get to work. Lonnie… are you looking at me again?

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.

You’re gonna love this one! Twenty-five-year-old woman — dancer, actually…well, not anymore, I’m afraid we have to take both of her legs — bilateral gangrene — and seeing as her husband recently passed away, and her insurance at the dancer’s union probably is not gonna cover it, you should go ahead and tell her she won’t be able to stay here with us for her rehab.

I just can’t believe how comfortable I’ve gotten talking to you over these last few months. I mean, look, I’d still be with my old shrink if I hadn’t cut across the park the day of the renaissance faire and realized that the man I tell my innermost secrets to likes to…likes to put on a big, giant beard and make pretend that he is a blacksmith.

Feel free to take notes. Alright there Blossom, here’s the hot gossip. You’re having seizures again because you’re not taking your medication. If this continues, you will be dead… and I’m not talking about the oh my God, if I don’t get invited to the prom I’m going to die” type of dead I’m talking, dead dead. Is that clear enough for you? Because if it’s not I could of course text you on my Blackberry, or my Blueberry or my Chuck Berry, although technically Chuck Berry is a black berry. The point is you gotta to stop wasting everybody’s time and grow up, is that clear to you sweetheart?”

I am just sick and tired of having to live up to everyone’s expectations. Lonnie needs a central line, you want me to help Mrs. London and every patient in this dump looks at me for some miracle cure. I mean, honestly, Carla, with Jehovah as my witness, sometimes it is just too much. It’s not just here. It’s home. Jordan expects me to be this amazing, sensitive father.

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.

“I have a six month old child. I’m gonna be one of those weird old guys who brings my son down to the park where everybody is like, ‘hmph is he the dad, is he the grandad, is he the grandad’s grandad? And oh my god why is he pushing a traffic cone on the swing while his five year old little boy is in the mud crying? Is is he taunting the little boy? No! He can’t even see the little boy. And now look he’s actualy taking the traffic cone, putting it in the minivan, and driving away while the little boy cries and the traffic cone sits quietly and watches finding nemo on dvd.”