Satire

Tag: Satire

Please, Scrubbies, dry the grease from your eyes. I’ll always be your Scrub Daddy.

Sorry, I don’t mean to nag. I’m your shadow-self, not your mother.

It’s been raining men every day since 1982, and the repercussions are getting more serious by the day.

It's time again to celebrate our beloved little Scarface-quoting third-grader. He's the reason your kid knows what ketamine is.

The MacGruber Clan, Lords of the Valley of Non-Violence, have been acting suspiciously peaceful.

Don’t Leave a Voicemail: Voicemails are a dusty artifact from the days before text messaging.

My day looks just like any other grown 40-year-old singular man. I wake up at 5:00 AM sharp and eat my coffee and eggs just like all of you.

I know we only met in passing at Brianna’s Axe-Throwing Farewell Party, but I got SUCH a great vibe from you.

Frankly, I’m just excited to have you back in my chair. After all, you ARE my favorite patient! Also, in many ways, you’re like a son to me.

I still don’t even really know what an em dash is. Or care to know for that matter.

I'll have been train hopping for two months at that point, so I might look a bit like the chimney sweep in Mary Poppins when I get in.

Emily, I couldn’t help but notice you texted “we’re gonna soooooooooo fucked up. 🤪” Would you be willing to own next steps on that?