You Lied Your Way Into A Job As A Surgeon! Can Yo.. Surgeons. The masters of the flesh. The gatekeepers of the organs. The doctors who get to shave patients. These are the green- wearing gods who know that the human body is but a chessboard, and that the nipples are the king and queen, and the belly button is the opposing king or queen. Today, finally, you are beginning your journey as one of them. Sounds sweet. You have already gone through the arduous process of becoming a surgeon. After calling the hospital over and over every day for three weeks straight and praising Tylenol in the deepest voice you could muster to whoever picked up, being hung up on by countless doctors and nurses, you finally hit the big time. Yesterday, you managed to get the chief of medicine on the line, who offered you a job after a mere 5. Congratulations! Thank you. I am a surgeon. If you eat eight Tylenol fast, that's one rabies shot. ![]() Eating any more than three Tylenols in church is a SIN unless you brought enough for EVERYONE. Okay. Being a surgeon is sweet as hell. You get to wear patients’ clothes around a hospital once the chemicals put them to sleep, you can eat as many tortilla chips as you want, and you can hide all of your favorite DVDs and family heirlooms inside toxic waste bins, the one place thieving pricks are too grossed out by to steal from. ![]() Don't give in, never give up! Regain control over your cardiovascular system. Reduce and/or regress atherosclerotic plaque deposits naturally.That all sounds great. Skittles are to math what Tylenol is to alchemy. Tossing Tylenol into an above- ground pool is basically the same idea as tossing Tylenol into an in- ground pool. George Harrison wrote three songs about Tylenol in the days just before his passing that his estate will not release. Cool. But the best part of being a surgeon, bar none, is that incredible surgeon paycheck. It’s no secret that surgeons are paid well, as every single day at 8 p. I had brain surgery 3 weeks ago today Thank you for all of the smiles and laughs I’ve had since finding your blog a couple days ago, as I googled something on. Are your Eustachian Tubes chronically blocked? We've listed natural, non surgical ways to clear blocked sinuses and Eustachian tube. Click for more details! Hell yeah. Exactly. So now that you’re a surgeon, you better do everything in your power to make it your $6. If a surgeon kills someone, everything completely goes to shit. For starters, once a surgeon kills someone, they are NEVER allowed back in a hospital, ever. Even if you just want to go to hang out or to meet new lovers. Your professional reference completely goes out the window. If a new job calls to ask about you, instead of a recommendation, the HR department hands the phone off to the absolute sickest pervert patient they have, and lets them air out whatever they’ve got kickin’ around up in their minds. Lastly—and this one is the worst of all—you don’t get paid a dime, which would mean all of your efforts to become a surgeon were for NOTHING. So, if you want to get to that sweet paycheck, you’re going to have to make it through one entire day as a surgeon without killing someone. ![]() I'm excited to be a surgeon who kills no one. The hospital. The place where people come when they are bored to take off their pants and scream. This will be your new surgeon home, and today is your first day of work. As far as anyone inside is concerned, you are now a fully qualified surgeon, so if you want those 6. Enter the hospital.“Please give me a surgery.” Ah, shit. A sick kid is waiting for you right inside the lobby, and he looks all kinds of fucked up.“I need a surgery pronto. I am dying, and it feels like none of my bones are connected to my other bones. I also have a rash that comes and goes. Please do surgery to me with your other doctor friends.”Quietly tell the kid that he'd be doing you a huge favor by asking another doctor for help on this one, and hope that he'll be cool. Piss your pants and bail to the bathroom.“If you don’t give me a surgery right now, I will scream. I will scream so loud and for so long, and I will point at you the whole time. It will go on for so long that the rest of the doctors here will have no choice but to send you to jail.”Piss your pants and bail to the bathroom. That was close. You’ve pissed your pants real good, and now you’re in the bathroom splashing your pants with water, the best way to clean pants that you’ve urinated in. I know that. My pants are now much wetter, but not as much with piss as with water, so they're practically good as new.“You sure know your way around cleaning a pair of pissed pants, sport. Not bad at all.”You look over and see that it’s the hospital’s janitor talking to you. There are many ways to lose a pregnancy—from the traditional bleeding in the toilet, to a missed miscarriage where you don’t even know that you miscarried, to a. He somehow opened the door in perfect silence while you were inside splashing your pants, and has been watching you for upwards of 9. I’ve been watching you for upwards of 9. I can tell just by looking at you, you’re no surgeon.”Yes I am. I am a surgeon, you jackass. Remove your shoelaces and begin choking the janitor until he dies so no one finds out about the bullshit he just said, or about your method of splashing water onto your pants.“Easy, easy. I’m not gonna rat you out. I’m gonna help you. I take it that you’re in here lying to be a surgeon, hoping to get ‘The $6. Bag Treatment,’ huh? Well, you’ve got a friend in me. I’ve seen it before, and I’ll see it again. All you gotta do is make it until 8 p. So whadya say you come lay low with me for the rest of the day, spend some time hanging with a new bud so you don’t end up killin’ no one before you get that money?”Why are you being so nice to me?“I, uh, how do you mean?” he says, visibly becoming self- conscious about the entire interaction so far. I’m just tired today, so if I’m acting weird, that’s what that’s about, probably. Allergies are being weird, too.”Okay. Let's hang out.“Follow me!” the janitor says before sprinting down the hallway. You do your best to keep up with him as he weaves in and out of patients and doctors before you finally arrive at a huge metal door. He slides open the rusty door to reveal a set of long, winding stairs that lead to a dark, desolate basement, and turns to you with a half smile.“It’s not delivery, it’s Di. Giorno,” he says before letting out a quick, uncertain laugh, looking over his shoulder at you to kind of check in and see if you’re laughing or anything at what must have been some sort of joke. Smile and nod politely. Pretend you didn't hear what he said. What are you talking about? What?“That was dumb, never mind,” the janitor says, shaking his head as his shoulders slump, trying to explain his joke before slowly progressing into full- blown self- deprecation. I was thinking, like, how in the old commercials, I’d be the delivery guy and you’re the pizza—I don’t know, forget it. It was dumb. Sorry.”Okay. You follow the janitor down the stairs and into the basement of the hospital, and lo and behold, it’s a full- blown bachelor’s pad! The janitor has stocked the place with some of the best things: a ping- pong table, a “Forever 2. Frosted Cheerios. This is my chill zone. I’m down here almost all the time, which is why the hospital is filthy and patients always seem to get sick immediately after they get better.” “We got all day, brother, so we could either sit down and talk about that important- looking guitar I have mounted on the wall over there, or we could stand near the stairs and wonder if Slash has ever signed a guitar and sold it for $2. Your call.”Challenge the janitor to ping- pong.“I can’t lift my arms above my waist because of a power- washer accident.”Give in and ask the janitor about the guitar on his wall, since it seems like he really wants you to.“You got a good eye, kid,” he says as though you brought it up completely unprompted, proudly looking up at the guitar he somehow mounted unnecessarily high on his wall. Believe it or not, Slash signed that guitar, and I was lucky enough to spend all of the money I have on it. I usually don’t do this for anyone, but for you, I’ll climb all the way up there and get it if you want to hold it.”Seems dangerous to climb up there if you can't lift your hands above your waist.“I’d climb anywhere for one of my boys.”And what about those wires? You'd have to step all over those wires to get over there?“I’ll put a very wet towel over them. I’m sure that will be fine.”This looks way too dangerous. Say you don't need to see the guitar, bail on the weird janitor, and head back toward the lobby to kill time solo. Ask the janitor to get the guitar for you. You’ve killed! You’ve killed! You put the janitor in grave danger by selfishly asking him to grab his Slash guitar off the wall. After the janitor put a soaking- wet towel on top of his countless basement wires in order to walk over to the wall and begin his climb, he was immediately electrocuted and fell crashing to the ground without the ability to raise his arms and break his fall.
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