Category: Put Downs

Julie, this is my ex-wife, Jordan; Jordan, this is my girlfriend, Julie. Okay! That was a treat, wasn’t it? Now, would you like me to call you a cab, or should I just whistle and have the flying monkeys bring the broom around?

Here that’s interesting. Of course, it’s gibberish, but it’s–it’s interesting nonetheless. I’m gonna go ahead and pass, and here’s why: You’re a typical surgeon, and as a rule you guys are insensitive and egotistical and you have the sense of humor of about a fourth grader.

I’m talking legitimate doctors, turtle head. Here, Pee-Pants is a pathologist, so he doesn’t count. Johnson is a dermatologist, which is Greek for fake doctor,” and please don’t even get me started on you four surgeons.”

Well, if it isn’t the Four Horsewomen of the Apocalypse. There’s a morbidity and mortality conference tomorrow to figure out who’s responsible for Foster’s death. And here’s the exciting news : I’m pretty sure it was one of you.

Look, Britney, recently I made the potentially fatal mistake of getting back together with my ex-wife who, angel that she is, is carrying the spawn of another man’s seed. So, forgive me if I sound a tad irritable when I tell you, I don’t care what piece of irrelevant drivel you picked off TV while you were snuggled up in your Holly Hobbie P.J.s.

Listen, just because we have a child together doesn’t necessarily mean you know me, mmm’kay, princess?

Do you have any idea what events would unfold if Jordan were to actually see that picture? It is a heartwrenching tale of woe involving Jordan’s second cousin who plays for the New England Patriots and me having a Super Bowl ring removed from my esophagus. No, Jordan’s never going to see these stitches.

Wait, wait. Let me get in on this. Let’s also have a toast to Mr. Foster’s widow and his fatherless kids. You know as well as I do, it could have been any one of your faults. Congrats again. Have a… have a swell party.

They hate you, Bob. They hate you from the bottom of your hooves to the top of your pitchfork. They hate you, dear God, they hate you good.

You know, Eunice, you never even woulda made that catch if you weren’t such an all-purpose nerd, sitting home alone on a Saturday night, watching some medical special on TV!