I Have ALLLL The Huevos

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Yet another fantastically heretical Easter Sunday conversation, albeit this time by text with my favorite Jewish doctor.

 

Drew: Are you done with that whole chocolate egg thing that your people pretend is connected to Jesus, yet.

Me: The kids were done hours ago. Now they’re Skyping with their father.

Drew: Oh great. Is he correcting your parenting from afar, again?

Me: He’s telling them, to tell me, to email him their report cards, and I’m biting my tongue from saying, “Sure, but tell him to send child support”.

Drew: Well, he might actually do it!  It is your people’s day of miracles, after all.

Me: I’m pretty sure that we used all of our miracle cache on that resurrection thing.  No dice.

Drew: If he does, can we say he “rose from the deadbeat”?

Me: I love you so much right now.

I’d Like To Use My Phone-A-Friend, Regis

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A text conversation with our favorite angry physician.

Me: Hey, I need you to settle a bet.  How long was Noah’s flood?

Drew: You do realize that I’m in Dubai on business, right?

Me: I do, but I’m on the clock, here.

Drew: You know who’s NOT on the clock?  Google.

Me: *sigh*

Drew: Fine.  40 days of rain, 160 on the Ark, 150 days until the water receded, and on the 10th day after that they sent out the birds.

Me: THANK YOU!

Drew: Why are you betting on biblical facts, by the way?

Me: I’m not.

Drew: ???

Me: I was betting Matt that you’d know that obscure crap, and that I could get you to tell me from Dubai inside of two minutes. (92 seconds, by the way)

Drew *slow clap*

(5 minutes later)

Me: Hey, do you happen to know the names of his sons’ wives?

Drew: Fuck you.

 

Yet Another Way You DON’T Want To Be Like Woody Allen

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Drew: “What are you doing?”

Me: “I’m making cookie dough for Casey, as a surprise.”

Drew: “Why didn’t I just marry you, when I had the chance?”

Me: “What chance?  When we met, I was 13 and you were 21, you fucking pervert.  What…were you going to swing by my middle school after a hard day at the college of medicine and pick me up in your windowless van?”

Drew: “I’m torn between feeling incredible disgust with myself for being a potential pedophile, and disgust with you, for thinking that I’d ever drive a fucking van.”

Drew Strikes Again

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(A conversation between myself and Drew, who was texting from his elliptical at the Jewish Community Center.)

Drew: Dude, the people are so old in this gym, that instead of personal trainers, they should have estate planners circulating.

Me: That’s terrible.

Drew: No, terrible would be telling you that in this gym, the median age is “dead”.

Least Sexy Sexting Ever.

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A phone call to Drew.  For those of you who lack ovaries and ladyparts…a Mirena is an IUD.

Me: “Hey, I have a question for you about my Mirena.”

Drew: “Hey, I deal in lungs for a living, so why are you asking me about your vagina.”

Me: *sigh*

Drew: “Okay, okay, what’s wrong?”

Me: “I started developing this weird rash, and I don’t know if it’s related.  It started on my elbows, and now it’s spreading to my chest, and it’s itchy.”

Drew: “Send me a picture.”

Me: “That is the WORST way anyone has ever tried to get a picture of my tits.”

Drew: “Megan…any man that was turned on by a woman covered in hives would fall into a SERIOUSLY niche market of pervert.  I’m going to show it across to the derm guy across the hall, and get his opinion.”

Me: “Fiiiiine.  But you’re going to see the bottom of my bra.”

(sends picture)

Drew: “I don’t think it’s the Mirena, but call your GYN.  In the meantime, Benedryl before bedtime, and hydrocortisone on the affected area.”

Me: “I don’t need anything prescription?”

Drew: “I’m not calling you in a prescription unless you send me a picture with a nipple in it.”

Me: “So, that’s a ‘no’ then.”

Terrorists…They Care About Your Colon.

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And the angry texting continues…

Drew: I swear to fucking G-d, if I get one more page in the middle of the night to ask something as stupid as “Can this patient have Colace”, I’m going to kill someone.  These fucking new residents are KILLING ME.

Me: First…  A pager?  Really?  In the year that you’re doctoring, are leaches still a thing?

Drew: *sigh*

Me: Also, can we discuss that I’m FAIRLY sure that the Hypocratic Oath covers you not murdering other doctors?

Drew: It would be justifiable homicide.

Me: Because they PAGE you at 3am, asking if they can help a patient poop?

Drew: Because I’m running around night and day, trying to keep them from killing my patients.

Me: I’m sure they’re not trying to kill your patients.

Drew: Megan, I’m not convinced that they weren’t sent by Al Qaeda.

Me: Take it easy, Jack Bauer.  Maybe YOU should have a little Colace.