Might as well...Random Scrubs Quotes:
Dr. Cox:
Honestly, that man has killed so many people I'm starting to think he's a government operative.
Okay, think of what little patience I have as, oh, I don't know, your virginity. You always thought it would be there, until that night Junior Year when you were feeling a little down about yourself and your pal Kevin, who just wanted to be friends, well, he dropped by and he brought a copy of About Last Night and a four-pack of Bartels & James and woo hoo hoo, it was gone forever - just like my patience is now.
Dermatologist is Greek for "fake doctor."
My God, newbie, it's been two furiously frustrating years. How is it possible that you still don't get me? I would never compare you to the gays. I like the gays. I like their music. I like their sense of style. I especially like what they've done with Halloween, but our thing is that you are a little girl. That's who you are.
I became a doctor for the same four reasons that everybody does: chicks, money, power, and chicks.
You know Bob, I've been thinking of all the times you manipulated me and toyed with me and I can't help but recall that children's fable about that race between the tortoise and the pain-in-the-ass-chief-of-medicine-that-everybody-hates. You see, Bob, the pain-in-the-ass-chief-of-medicine-that-everybody-hates kept running out in front of the tortoise and taunting him, but right at the end... Oh, gosh I'm sure you remember what happened Bob. The tortoise bit clean through the Chief of Medicine's calf muscle and dragged him to the ground where he and all the other turtles devoured him alive right there on the racetrack. It's a disturbing children's book, Bob, I know, but it's one that stuck with me nonetheless.
I don't necessarily buy all this new age crap. One time I saw my mom knock my father unconscious with a frying pan and do you know what I did? I kept right on going with my birthday party.
Lady, people aren't chocolates with chewy centres. Do you know what they are mostly? Bastards. Bastard-coated bastards with bastard fillings.
This moment is so great, I would have sex with it.
I suppose I could riff a list of things that I care as little about as our last week. Let's see... low carb diets, Michael Moore, the Republican National Convention, Kabbalah & all Kabbalah-related products, Hi-Def TV, the Bush daughters, wireless hotspots, the OC, the UN, recycling, getting Punk'd, Danny Gans, the Latin Grammys, the real Grammys, Jeff that Wiggle that sleeps too darn much, the Yankees payroll, all the red states, all the blue states, every hybrid car, every talk show, everything on the planet, everything in the solar system, everything, everything, everything, everything, everything, everything every-everything that exists, past, present, and future, in discovered and undiscovered dimensions! ...Oh, and Hugh Jackman.
I don't know what to tell you, there, Bobbo. Either this kid has a light bulb up his butt or his colon has a great idea.
(after Kelso has annouced he's getting an award) Jerk-Off of the Year. No, Bastard of the Year! Uh, don't you tell me! Guy I Despise So Much, I'd Pay Someone to Kill Ya and Stuff Ya and Leave Ya by My Bed, So That When I Wake Up in the Morning, I Could Roll Over and Punch You in the Face... of the Year.
You're black? Cause last I checked, you had a nerdy white best friend, you enjoy Neil Diamond, and you damn sure act like a black guy, and these, my friend, are all characteristics of white guys. Please understand, I'm a huge supporter of the NAACP, and if you don't know what that stands for, it is National Assocation for the Advancement of Colored People, and, quite frankly, I always thought they should change the Colored People to African Americans, but then of course it wouldn't be the N-Double-A-CP, it would be the N-quad-A or NAAAA, and, I know, this probably sounds like a digression, but it actually leads me back to my original point: Do I think you're black? NAAAA...!!
Jordan:
Look, I don't know where your mom was when she had to tell you this things. You can't sleep with someone you care about, sex is only for making babies and revenge.
Helping someone move is like oral sex. You do it once and they owe you for life.
Elliot:
# I'm insane, you idiot. Remember the other day when you told me I had pit stains? Well I have cried every fifteen minutes on the half-hour since you told me that. I am racked with self-doubt. I have panic attacks. I'm claustrophobic, germ-phobic, phobia-phobic. I talk to myself, I talk to my cats. I talk to three separate shrinks about the fact that often my cats respond to me in my mother's voice and yesterday, when that stupid, pretty surgical nurse handed you a pair of latex gloves I almost killed the guy whose leg I was stitching up because I couldn't stop thinking about the two of you having sex on a box of steaks. Why a box of steaks? Because my dad had an affair with a female butcher and, as I mentioned before, I am insane.
Turk:
You know, I love how kids of divorce swear they have the market cornered on family dysfunction. But let me share with you a typical Thanksgiving at the Turk household. It starts with my mother yelling at my sister for yelling at my grandmother who's yelling at the television screen, which happens to be the microwave. And then my militant brother Jabari, formerly Bob, gives my father attitude for using the word black, even though he's referring to the turkey, which, by the way, only got burnt because instead of turning the oven off, my bi-polar Aunt Leslie tried to shove her head in it! But you know what we do? We kiss and we hug and we apologize for all the things we said, because a month later, we gonna get together and do it again at Christmas.
It's killing me I can't beat this woman no matter what I try, she's like a ninja but worse.
JD:
What do I know about good relationships? Yesterday I had funeral sex.
Ah, uncomfortable silences and alcohol. Just like thanksgiving at home.
There are a lot of ways to grieve, but last time I checked, wheelbarrow style wasn't one of them.
Sticks and stones may break my bones. (In his head) But words will hurt forever.
Elliot: My life is a mess!
J.D.: At least you're pretty.
Elliot: Yeah, well, pretty don't pay the rent!
Carla: It does for my sister.
Elliot: Oh, my God, your sister's a prostitute!?
Carla: She's a model. Come on, Elliot, we talked about thinking before we speak.
Dr. Kelso: [into phone] Darling, I want to say something. For the past 25 years, we've been going through the motions -- once every couple of weeks we have sex, and then we have breakfast without saying a word. Well, tonight, I want you to put on a nice dress, because I'm gonna take you to dinner and I'm gonna start telling you all the things I haven't taken the time to say all these years. ... I love you, too.
[He hangs up.]
Ted: That was...beautiful, sir!
Dr. Kelso: Thanks, Ted. Call my wife, tell her I won't be home tonight.
Dr. Kelso: Do you think I got to be chief of medicine by being late?
Dr. Cox: No. You got there by back-stabbing and ass-kissing.
Dr. Kelso: Maybe so, but I started those things promptly at eight.
Dr. Cox: I can’t believe Kelso really asked my opinion, y’know?
Janitor: If I wanted to listen to someone yap on about their problems, I’d be at my AA meeting.
Dr. Cox: It just so happens that this was the only empty seat in the whole joint. Besides, as a fellow abusive drinker you are duty bound by bar stool protocol to listen to every last word that comes out of my mouth.
Janitor: (beat) Proceed.
Dr. Kelso: Okay, listen up, everyone. For budgetary reasons, we are turning the bathrooms on even-numbered floors into patients rooms. To sum up, floors two and four are no longer for one or two. Actually, there's still a bathroom on two, but then my joke wouldn't've worked.
Carla:And...?
Dr. Cox: I'm sorry, would you repeat the question?
Carla:Are you just gonna roll over like that?
Jordan: That's weird. I asked him the same last night.
Carla: Where's the outrage, the anger, the heat?
Jordan: Again! Last night!
Carla: You've gone soft.
Jordan: Okay, now it's just spooky!
J.D: There was some unexpected friendly fire, and even though I never got a chance to enter the village, there was an airstrike on one of the outlying regions. I spoke to the gals up in Ob/G, and they said it's not uncommon for a woman to get pregnant even if there was no actual penetration.
Honestly, that man has killed so many people I'm starting to think he's a government operative.
Okay, think of what little patience I have as, oh, I don't know, your virginity. You always thought it would be there, until that night Junior Year when you were feeling a little down about yourself and your pal Kevin, who just wanted to be friends, well, he dropped by and he brought a copy of About Last Night and a four-pack of Bartels & James and woo hoo hoo, it was gone forever - just like my patience is now.
Dermatologist is Greek for "fake doctor."
My God, newbie, it's been two furiously frustrating years. How is it possible that you still don't get me? I would never compare you to the gays. I like the gays. I like their music. I like their sense of style. I especially like what they've done with Halloween, but our thing is that you are a little girl. That's who you are.
I became a doctor for the same four reasons that everybody does: chicks, money, power, and chicks.
You know Bob, I've been thinking of all the times you manipulated me and toyed with me and I can't help but recall that children's fable about that race between the tortoise and the pain-in-the-ass-chief-of-medicine-that-everybody-hates. You see, Bob, the pain-in-the-ass-chief-of-medicine-that-everybody-hates kept running out in front of the tortoise and taunting him, but right at the end... Oh, gosh I'm sure you remember what happened Bob. The tortoise bit clean through the Chief of Medicine's calf muscle and dragged him to the ground where he and all the other turtles devoured him alive right there on the racetrack. It's a disturbing children's book, Bob, I know, but it's one that stuck with me nonetheless.
I don't necessarily buy all this new age crap. One time I saw my mom knock my father unconscious with a frying pan and do you know what I did? I kept right on going with my birthday party.
Lady, people aren't chocolates with chewy centres. Do you know what they are mostly? Bastards. Bastard-coated bastards with bastard fillings.
This moment is so great, I would have sex with it.
I suppose I could riff a list of things that I care as little about as our last week. Let's see... low carb diets, Michael Moore, the Republican National Convention, Kabbalah & all Kabbalah-related products, Hi-Def TV, the Bush daughters, wireless hotspots, the OC, the UN, recycling, getting Punk'd, Danny Gans, the Latin Grammys, the real Grammys, Jeff that Wiggle that sleeps too darn much, the Yankees payroll, all the red states, all the blue states, every hybrid car, every talk show, everything on the planet, everything in the solar system, everything, everything, everything, everything, everything, everything every-everything that exists, past, present, and future, in discovered and undiscovered dimensions! ...Oh, and Hugh Jackman.
I don't know what to tell you, there, Bobbo. Either this kid has a light bulb up his butt or his colon has a great idea.
(after Kelso has annouced he's getting an award) Jerk-Off of the Year. No, Bastard of the Year! Uh, don't you tell me! Guy I Despise So Much, I'd Pay Someone to Kill Ya and Stuff Ya and Leave Ya by My Bed, So That When I Wake Up in the Morning, I Could Roll Over and Punch You in the Face... of the Year.
You're black? Cause last I checked, you had a nerdy white best friend, you enjoy Neil Diamond, and you damn sure act like a black guy, and these, my friend, are all characteristics of white guys. Please understand, I'm a huge supporter of the NAACP, and if you don't know what that stands for, it is National Assocation for the Advancement of Colored People, and, quite frankly, I always thought they should change the Colored People to African Americans, but then of course it wouldn't be the N-Double-A-CP, it would be the N-quad-A or NAAAA, and, I know, this probably sounds like a digression, but it actually leads me back to my original point: Do I think you're black? NAAAA...!!
Jordan:
Look, I don't know where your mom was when she had to tell you this things. You can't sleep with someone you care about, sex is only for making babies and revenge.
Helping someone move is like oral sex. You do it once and they owe you for life.
Elliot:
# I'm insane, you idiot. Remember the other day when you told me I had pit stains? Well I have cried every fifteen minutes on the half-hour since you told me that. I am racked with self-doubt. I have panic attacks. I'm claustrophobic, germ-phobic, phobia-phobic. I talk to myself, I talk to my cats. I talk to three separate shrinks about the fact that often my cats respond to me in my mother's voice and yesterday, when that stupid, pretty surgical nurse handed you a pair of latex gloves I almost killed the guy whose leg I was stitching up because I couldn't stop thinking about the two of you having sex on a box of steaks. Why a box of steaks? Because my dad had an affair with a female butcher and, as I mentioned before, I am insane.
Turk:
You know, I love how kids of divorce swear they have the market cornered on family dysfunction. But let me share with you a typical Thanksgiving at the Turk household. It starts with my mother yelling at my sister for yelling at my grandmother who's yelling at the television screen, which happens to be the microwave. And then my militant brother Jabari, formerly Bob, gives my father attitude for using the word black, even though he's referring to the turkey, which, by the way, only got burnt because instead of turning the oven off, my bi-polar Aunt Leslie tried to shove her head in it! But you know what we do? We kiss and we hug and we apologize for all the things we said, because a month later, we gonna get together and do it again at Christmas.
It's killing me I can't beat this woman no matter what I try, she's like a ninja but worse.
JD:
What do I know about good relationships? Yesterday I had funeral sex.
Ah, uncomfortable silences and alcohol. Just like thanksgiving at home.
There are a lot of ways to grieve, but last time I checked, wheelbarrow style wasn't one of them.
Sticks and stones may break my bones. (In his head) But words will hurt forever.
Elliot: My life is a mess!
J.D.: At least you're pretty.
Elliot: Yeah, well, pretty don't pay the rent!
Carla: It does for my sister.
Elliot: Oh, my God, your sister's a prostitute!?
Carla: She's a model. Come on, Elliot, we talked about thinking before we speak.
Dr. Kelso: [into phone] Darling, I want to say something. For the past 25 years, we've been going through the motions -- once every couple of weeks we have sex, and then we have breakfast without saying a word. Well, tonight, I want you to put on a nice dress, because I'm gonna take you to dinner and I'm gonna start telling you all the things I haven't taken the time to say all these years. ... I love you, too.
[He hangs up.]
Ted: That was...beautiful, sir!
Dr. Kelso: Thanks, Ted. Call my wife, tell her I won't be home tonight.
Dr. Kelso: Do you think I got to be chief of medicine by being late?
Dr. Cox: No. You got there by back-stabbing and ass-kissing.
Dr. Kelso: Maybe so, but I started those things promptly at eight.
Dr. Cox: I can’t believe Kelso really asked my opinion, y’know?
Janitor: If I wanted to listen to someone yap on about their problems, I’d be at my AA meeting.
Dr. Cox: It just so happens that this was the only empty seat in the whole joint. Besides, as a fellow abusive drinker you are duty bound by bar stool protocol to listen to every last word that comes out of my mouth.
Janitor: (beat) Proceed.
Dr. Kelso: Okay, listen up, everyone. For budgetary reasons, we are turning the bathrooms on even-numbered floors into patients rooms. To sum up, floors two and four are no longer for one or two. Actually, there's still a bathroom on two, but then my joke wouldn't've worked.
Carla:And...?
Dr. Cox: I'm sorry, would you repeat the question?
Carla:Are you just gonna roll over like that?
Jordan: That's weird. I asked him the same last night.
Carla: Where's the outrage, the anger, the heat?
Jordan: Again! Last night!
Carla: You've gone soft.
Jordan: Okay, now it's just spooky!
J.D: There was some unexpected friendly fire, and even though I never got a chance to enter the village, there was an airstrike on one of the outlying regions. I spoke to the gals up in Ob/G, and they said it's not uncommon for a woman to get pregnant even if there was no actual penetration.