PARABOLICAL GRAFFITI

Gotta love it when people are open and honest with you. Except, you know, when they aren't.

{filtered to Angel Investigations}
If anyone needs anything, ask your Champion, since he seems to have all the answers. Because I? QUIT.

Good luck. Hope you manage to save the world, or whatever.
{/filter}

{filtered to Greg House}
I'm moving back into my apartment. You can either get your crap and get the hell out, or move yourself into one of the spare rooms. Choice is yours, but either way, I'll be there within the hour.
{/filter}

I'm going to the opera! And you're not.

( (image under cut) )

Veronica, I tortured you when I was evil and I'm REALLY sorry about that.

Angela Petrelli, you are the most attractive old woman that I have EVER seen and I want to throw you in the sack and have my way with you.

Dawn, I had sex with Buffy on your bed.

...

Twice.

Oh balls! What I meant to say this entire time is that I really don't like what's going on here. Anyone find a cure yet?

I will kill, with my bare hands, every man who has propositioned or hit on or looked at or offered anything to my wife.

EDITED: Except for the cripple. I'm just gonna drop him for real this time. From as high up as I can get in the air.

I stole a Vicodin prescription from an old lady today.

But I blame the idiot flying lawyer. He left me with no other option.

Except beg to that stupid boob-job brainscan seizure bimbo for some of her leftover pills for a disease I haven't figured out yet, and who's actually really hot but probably really dumb. But that's hardly surprising.

I miss Wilson.

Woe.

Okay. Who out there can't stop telling the truth?

How many humans comment on this board?

All right, kids, here's the deal. I'm a doctor. I don't know about the rest of you, but that's what I went to school to do for the rest of my hopefully not-extended life until some merciful hand smote me down before I became too old to enjoy the oodles of cash I was promised and yet didn't actually get. Being a bartender is gosh darn swell and all, given the freedom to drink on the job if I really want to, which I usually do, but too much of a good thing makes it not good anymore. In theory.

Given that, yes, my life somehow is part of a TV show, it's been a little hard to prove I can, in fact, be a doctor. So, knowing some of you are actually having the same problem, I suggest we team up to either orchestrate some ethically sketchy credential creation or we branch out to other ideas.

So, who's in? Come on, I know you're all just dying to go back to a life of thankless public service. Fingers are just itching to hack into the next patient for no gosh darn good reason other than you like your shiny scalpel, aren't they? And yes, I am pointing my finger at you, Shuffle-Along.

I prefer New York.

There are days where I know, just know, that the human race eliminating itself by a half or more would be the best thing ever because humanity as a whole pretty well sucks. But then I drown myself in scotch, wake up, and realize that's crazy talk. As much as I might hate the world, there are still occasionally some things that make it worth making an effort to save lives. Not many, but there are a few.

God help me, though, this is getting a little old, kids. We get it. You're badass. You want us all to know so we give your tantrums some attention. And I'm just enough of a masochist to give that to you for a moment, because you have finally roused me from extreme apathy and made me care. This is by no means a small feat but you did it! Take a bow.

Did you take it? Yes, take it, we're all waiting. Okay, taken now? Good!

Now shut the hell up. If I'm going to be stuck here in Wonderland on drugs, I'm going to have it involve less of these gosh darn freaky pleas for attention.

Single, white male seeking attractive (but more importantly loose) woman for an illicit night of romance.

- And/Or -

Panty-waist oncologist for late night snacks and TiVo'd episode of The L Word.


Must bring their own chips.