Category: Verbal Assassinations

“Not so fast, there, Bob. You forgot to affix the warning label to your forehead. You know, the one that reads “Exposure to Bob Kelso can be hazardous to your health” thus affording the reader a fighting chance to escape the waste and contamination that is…Bob Kelso.”

“Newbie! It turns out I, uh, I do have some best man advice. Go easy on the mascara in case you cry during your toast. And if you’re gonna chase after the bouquet with all of the other girls, make sure you kick off your pumps so you don’t snap one of those chicken ankles of yours.” –>

“First off, let me just say…thank you. For the last couple of months I have been adrift in a sea of puppy dogs, lollipops, and, let’s face it, mediocre metaphors. Luckily, you people were kind enough to piss all over learning a procedure that could determine whether some poor sucker lives or dies. And that reminded me of something that I wanted to remind you of. Because, you see, I am accountable. I am accountable for the continuous, crashing, undeniable amateurism that you people drag into this hospital day in and day out. And believe you me when I tell you that the next time one of you perpetual disappointments doesn’t even have the common decency to try and do better at something you supposedly do? I will go ahead and toss your sorry ass outta here in about ten seconds and then I will forget you forever in the next five.” –>

“Oh, that’s funny, because Jack here was just wondering why the crazy lady who just spent the last hour chain smoking and talking on her cell phone while her kid ate sand would come over to two complete strangers and give them parenting advice!” –>

“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.” –>

“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!” –>

“Look, Tammy, as far as your love life goes, normally I couldn’t care less who’s laying your quivering body down by the fire while your lips whisper “No, no…no” but your eyes scream, “Yes. Yes. Oh, big daddy, yes!” But when you’re dating Jordan’s sissy-poo, it forces me to spend time with you outside of the hospital, and I just won’t have that. So, hhhere’s the deal: Don’t want to have dinner with you. Don’t want to go bowling with you. And I never, ever again want to walk into my kitchen and hear you say, “Ohh, it’s waffle time! It’s waffle time! Won’t you have some waffles of mine?” –>

“No, you look! If someone had asked me just this morning, Is there any way that I could have less respect for you two geniuses? I would have said, “No! No, that’s not possible!” But, lo and behold, you went and pulled it off. Congratulations. The only problem is I’m -I’m fresh out of blue ribbons, so instead, you’re gonna have to settle for a lifetime supply of my foot up your ass! Now go home. You’re not fit to work tonight.” –>

“Oh, and Nervous Guy- if I were you, I’d go ahead and swallow that entire mouthful of baby carrots. Because, if I hear you make even one more damn crunch, I’m gonna use the remainder of the carrots in that bag to make you completely air-tight, son.”
–>

“Nine pounds in a week!? Let me ask you a quick question: are you trying to make my head explode? Because you have no idea just how frustrating it is working your ass off trying to inflate a tiny little balloon inside someone’s clogged artery. And all that a person has to do, really, is - oh, I don’t know - go for a walk in the morning or choke down a fresh green salad. And you come back here looking like that!?! And I know, I know, here I’m supposed to be Dr. Give A Crap, but you wanna know the God’s honest truth? And this is a fact - you are what you eat, and you clearly went out and devoured a big fat guy, didn’cha!” –>