Despite the fact that when you wake up tomorrow morning you will be a resident, you’ll still be the same excitable little girl that you are right now; the only difference will be that some sorry new intern will probably mistake you for somebody who actually knows something.

Mr. Bober, back there, is one of our frequent flyers; he’s been with us every six months for the last two years, and I’ve grown rather fond of him. So if you could somehow manage to not kill him, well then – oh, gee — that would just be ducky.

Oh, come on — what the hell, Newbie. This gentleman is suffering from an inflamed gallbladder, and you actually have him eating a grilled-cheese sandwich. Hhhere’s an idea: why don’t we just have him wash the whole thing down with a big ol’ mug of vodka.

Congratulations! Your Dimaggio-like streak for saying nothing even remotely interesting is still alive and well!

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.

Okay, here’s the deal. If we’re gonna beat this thing, and we damn sure are, we’re gonna do it one way and one way only. We’re gonna be a team! We’re gonna be a team, team, team, team, team! You hear me?

All right, Clara, you can go ahead and order yourself a Cosmopolitan; we’ll just grab a cab home.

Feelings.” That’s a good one.”

Well, gosh, Newbie, I don’t know what it was about that day. Maybe I hadn’t had enough sleep. Maybe my mind was on other things. Maybe I didn’t have enough fiber in my diet, and I failed to do my morning business. I don’t know what the hell it was, but the bottom line is […]

Hey, do you know any women who hate themselves enough to actually date me?