Not a strong moment for you Polly.

How about a Russian Roulette booth? And here’s the kicker. We put bullets in ALL the chambers. That way everyone wins!

Sure, is he in fact a latex-encased robot with real human hair and a circuit board where his heart should be? I can’t…I can’t rule that out.

You made your own bed, now your underpaid gardener’s gotta sleep in it!

I swear to God, Carla, if one more annoying thing comes my way, please just go ahead and extract some of that extra air out of Barbie’s head and inject it right into my veins!

I’ll tell you what to do: Get the hell out of here.

Oh, that’s just dandy. I got a billion patients and no rooms, and I got Newbie pestering me for advice on how to be the best woman at Turtlehead’s wedding, and I got a resident who can’t do a simple procedure even though she learned it the first week she was here.

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 […]

You, my friend, are going to be the best baseball player in the world. Which will make me the best baseball player in the world’s father.

So Jordon tells me that while you were on your world leukemia tour, you neglected to visit a single doctor, medicine man, or scary shaman with the giant saucers in his ears. Psst. Ben. Turns out cancer’s the kind of ailment that you occasionally want to check up on.