*sharp whistle* Listen, Perry. This is your mother.
What makes you think that you can talk to just ANYONE like that?
It's amazing to think that after forty years of way-hay-HAY too much attention, you still have to act like you did at age ten. Still searching for someone to give a crap or two, I see.
Well buck-up, little soldier, cause Mommy's got some news: No matter how many little intern-hearts you break, yours will still remain as small and pathetic as your existence. But go ahead. If it makes you feel better -- if you think it'll bring back that little pink doll you hid from me until I stole it from your twenty-year-old sleeping fingers -- go on. Go on, Martha, and boost that ego.
You've always been a big disappointment. I don't know WHERE you get it.
When I said I wanted an update by two days ago you must have heard that I wanted you to get a four-year-old drunk and let him use your computer for an hour.
The money generated by this hospital, and subsequent live-journal, is the only boundary separating me from committing some horrible act of violence. And sure, while I think it'd be swell to stab a few interns, I'd rather drive around in my air conditioned Beemer every day.
So, unless you want to be fired, or possibly stabbed, I suggest you get your shiny blue scrubs in there and get another entry rolling.
Sorry to bother you while you're blogging, but if you could -- when you're done of course -- I was wondering if you could pick up a few things for me at the store.
Some tampons, a new toothbrush, we need some soap, stockings -- you know the kind I like, umm, some paper for the printer, if you want to get to work tomorrow you're going to have to get some gas, I'd like a few Snapples -- the Lemon Iced Tea. You know what, I'm tired, could you just pick up dinner?
No, I don't want take-out. Make it when you get home. No soup. I know you love soup. No soup. Make steaks or something. We're having guests, so buy enough. Thanks, Robert.
Oh, I almost forgot. Don't be late, or I'll not only break your Tuscalusa heart, but I'll break your neck.
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i hope im right! yipee!
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the first few were the bathroom, then i moved to the library with Professor Plum... with a ... shotgun-candle?
what?
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See you around the Batcave
Batman over and out!
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What makes you think that you can talk to just ANYONE like that?
It's amazing to think that after forty years of way-hay-HAY too much attention, you still have to act like you did at age ten. Still searching for someone to give a crap or two, I see.
Well buck-up, little soldier, cause Mommy's got some news: No matter how many little intern-hearts you break, yours will still remain as small and pathetic as your existence. But go ahead. If it makes you feel better -- if you think it'll bring back that little pink doll you hid from me until I stole it from your twenty-year-old sleeping fingers -- go on. Go on, Martha, and boost that ego.
You've always been a big disappointment. I don't know WHERE you get it.
Love,
Mom
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Too tired, msut break computer again.
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When I said I wanted an update by two days ago you must have heard that I wanted you to get a four-year-old drunk and let him use your computer for an hour.
The money generated by this hospital, and subsequent live-journal, is the only boundary separating me from committing some horrible act of violence. And sure, while I think it'd be swell to stab a few interns, I'd rather drive around in my air conditioned Beemer every day.
So, unless you want to be fired, or possibly stabbed, I suggest you get your shiny blue scrubs in there and get another entry rolling.
Have a great day, Sport.
-Dr. Bob Kelso
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Sorry to bother you while you're blogging, but if you could -- when you're done of course -- I was wondering if you could pick up a few things for me at the store.
Some tampons, a new toothbrush, we need some soap, stockings -- you know the kind I like,
umm, some paper for the printer, if you want to get to work tomorrow you're going to have to get some gas, I'd like a few Snapples -- the Lemon Iced Tea. You know what, I'm tired, could you just pick up dinner?
No, I don't want take-out. Make it when you get home. No soup. I know you love soup. No soup. Make steaks or something. We're having guests, so buy enough. Thanks, Robert.
Oh, I almost forgot. Don't be late, or I'll not only break your Tuscalusa heart, but I'll break your neck.
Love ya, honey.
Bunny
<3
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That time of the month, eh, Bobbo?
-Cox
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