Magic

Dr. Grumpy: "Have you lost or gained any weight since starting Fukitol?"

Mrs. Pound: "I don't know... I don't have a scale at home."

Dr. Grumpy: "Okay, then let's go over to the scale. I need to know what your weight is on the drug."

Mrs. Pound: "No, you don't need to."

Dr. Grumpy: "I'm sorry, I do."

Mrs. Pound: "No, I'm not going to. A good doctor should be able to tell my weight just by looking at me."

Drug rep swag

Since January 1, 2009 drug reps haven't been able to give us any of their goodies like pens, post-notes, calendars, or pretty much anything.

However, my colleagues in non-human medical fields are exempt. So veterinarians still get their bountiful, yet bizarre gifts. My colleague Webhill recently received this gem, which she kindly sent:

What the hell is that? A rubber cat? A hurkle? (no, wait, it has 4 legs, not 6) A Pokemon?



Nope. It's a flash drive.

Because, let's face it. Nothing could ever make your day like having someone ask, "Hey, doc, why do you have a blue cat's butt sticking out of your computer?"

Do not try this at home. Or anywhere.

Gee, I wonder how much he won?

Thank you, Brick!

Odd numbers

Dr. Grumpy: "Any major illnesses in the family?"

Mrs. Trilateral: "My Mom has had breast cancer 3 times, once on each side."

Heroism

My deep sleep is shattered by hysterical screaming of the psychopath-with-a-butcher-knife-has-broken-into-the-house-and-is-about-to-kill-me sort coming from Craig's room.

I go flying down the hall.

Dr. Grumpy: "Craig! Are you okay?!!! What's wrong?!!!"

Craig: "THERE'S A LIZARD ON MY WALL!!!"

Dr. Grumpy: "That? For crap's sake, Craig, it's 2 inches long. They eat bugs. It's not going to hurt you."

Craig: "IT COULD CLIMB UP TO THE CEILING AND GET OVER MY BED AND DROP ON TOP OF ME AND CRAWL IN MY MOUTH AND I COULD CHOKE AND IT WOULD KILL ME IN MY SLEEP!!!"

So, in order to protect my children from a dangerous, potentially-lethal, 2-inch-long bug-eating lizard, I got a yardstick and tupperware container, and gently captured the menacing beast.

It's now out in the yard, where the bug hunting is likely better, anyway.

Sancho Panza, where are you when we need you?

I guess he's sort of a modern-day Don Quixote.

Thank you, Tanya!

Sunday re-runs

On the side I do survey work for various market research companies. They ask me what I think of ad campaigns, or medications, or whatever.

So last night I was doing a phone interview with one, and was asked this great question:

"Doctor, have any of your patients ever stopped taking their Alzheimer's medication due to death?"

Random Saturday pictures

First off, we have this:

 

Because nothing says "handmade by skilled craftsmen" more than prepackaged pizza dough in a plastic tube, made by a huge food conglomerate, and stacked en masse on shelves in every grocery store in North America.



Next is this picture, taken on approaching Atlantic City. Where, apparently, the casino buildings are always standing erect and ready.

Back to the artisanal crap, we have this generic package from a generic warehouse club, where they apparently can't decide if their generic cookie of the month is blueberry, cranberry, or macadamia. Unless it has all three.

Of course, there's always artisanal salt to put on your artisanal food:

And then there's Australia, where you can build an entire pharmacy from artisanal components!

And  lastly, we have this non-artisanal, but remarkably bad, juxtaposition of news headlines:

Friday whatever

Mr. Webster: "My internist says my blood pressure is erotic."

Dr. Grumpy: "You mean erratic?"

Mr. Webster: "Whatever."

Assumptions

Mary: "Is there a problem, ma'am?"

Mrs. Ink: "Yes. I don't like having to fill out these forms with a pen tied to the clipboard."

Mary: "I'm sorry, but before we started tying them on we were losing 2-3 pens a day. That adds up."

Mrs. Ink: "Ridiculous. You get pens for free from drug companies, anyway."

Mary: "We used to, but that was banned effective January 1, 2009. So now we buy our own office supplies like everyone else."

Mrs. Ink: "Everyone knows doctors are rich. I can't believe your cheap boss just doesn't buy more pens."

The evening news

By a quirk of fate, I have not 1, but 2, items to share tonight.

1. Sometimes you may be better off to just stay in jail.

2. I don't know what to say.

Why? Why? Why?

Dr. Grumpy: "How are you doing?"

Mr. Colloid: "Fine, except this morning I was hacking up some seriously disgusting greenish-black caked mucus gunk."

Dr. Grumpy: "I'm sorry."

Mr. Colloid: "Here's a picture of it."

Steve Austin. Asstronaut. A man barely able to sit comfortably.

Technology. Bringing us the internet, iPads, digital music, MRI's, the International Space Station...

And, most importantly, the world's first BIONIC BUTTOCKS!

Thank you, SMOD!

Life on the edge

Dr. Grumpy: "Do you take anything for the panic attacks?"

Miss Old: "I don't want to. They're pretty much the only excitement I get."