Category: Season 4

501

Filed under: Season 4 — DRK @

Are you kidding me? Barbie going toe-to-toe with Big Bob in a battle of the annoyings? Well, happy birthday to me!

521

Filed under: Season 4 — @

Mr. Warner… do you see what you’ve made me do? By once again choosing to spend all of your free time out on the surface of the sun until melanoma has developed, you have forced me to pull the attending dermatologist away from his bacne seminar and validate his most ridiculous of career choices.

389

Filed under: Season 4 — DRK @

Good God, Fantasia. You–you don’t actually think I’m done teaching you, do you? D’you not understand the only difference between today and tomorrow is that you wake up tomorrow and start coming in here and killing people, that no one can say, It’s no big deal, he’s just a resident.” Instead, what they’re damn sure gonna be wondering is who tried to educate your sorry ass. And when that finger of blame starts pointing in my direction, I had damn sure better be in a coma from the anger stroke I suffered from the last time you tried to hug me.”

409

Filed under: Season 4 — DRK @

I make it a point to never enter a shrink’s office unless I’m planning on grossly overpaying somebody for telling me something that I already know.

430

Filed under: Season 4 — DRK @

Hey, camel-butt!

448

Filed under: Season 4 — DRK @

Ohh, I am…so very angry…that I’m going to find someone to kill…just to prove her wrong.

472

Filed under: Put Downs,Season 4 — DRK @

Look, Newbie, there are times a man wants to keep something to himself. Like, say, he’s got a son. Or he’s 29-years-old and keeps a journal with a unicorn drawn on the cover.

502

Filed under: Season 4 — DRK @

Listen up. I have been cursed to work the night shift with you chuckleheads, which means I have to tape the Laker-Heat game. And seeing as no one in the history of this germ box has ever made it through a shift without saying Oh my God, oh, my God, did you see what happened last night on America’s Fattest Fatties? A 900 pound woman lost a pound and a half and cried for twenty minutes!” Be warned: If you utter a word about the score of the game, it will be your last. Now get out! Go, go, go, go, go. Chop chop!”

523

Filed under: Season 4 — @

I want to Bob, I really do. But, my first patient today was a snot-nosed little punk who wouldn’t let me give him a rectal exam unless I said pretty please first, and I’m just not big on begging strangers to stick my hand up their butt. Not even in my private time.

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