1. A man comes into the ER and yells, 'My wife's going to have her baby in the cab!' I grabbed my stuff, rushed out to the cab, lifted the lady's dress, and began to take off her underwear. Suddenly I noticed that there were several cabs---and I was in the wrong one.

Submitted by Dr. Mark MacDonald, San Francisco

 

 

2. At the beginning of my shift I placed a stethoscope on an elderly and slightly deaf female patient's anterior chest wall. "Big breaths", I instructed. "Yes, they used to be", replied the patient.

Submitted by Dr. Richard Byrnes, Seattle, WA

 

 

3. One day I told a wife that her husband had died of a massive myocardial infarct. Not more than five minutes later, I heard her reporting to the rest of the family that he had died of a 'massive internal fart.'

Submitted by Dr. Susan Steinberg

 

 

4. During a patient's two week follow-up appointment with his cardiologist, he informed me, his doctor, that he was having trouble with one of his medications. "Which one?" I asked. "The patch. The nurse told me to put on a new one every six hours and now I'm running out of places to put it!" I had him quickly undress and discovered what I hoped I wouldn't see. Yes, the man had over fifty patches on his body! Now the instructions include removal of the old patch before applying a new one.

Submitted by Dr. Rebecca St. Clair, Norfolk, VA

 

 

5. While acquainting myself with a new elderly patient, I asked, "How long have you been bedridden?" After a look of complete confusion she answered. "Why, not for about twenty years - when my husband was alive."

Submitted by Dr. Steven Swanson, Corvallis, OR

 

 

6. I was performing rounds at the hospital one morning and while checking up on a woman I asked, "So how's your breakfast this morning?" "It's very good, except for the Kentucky Jelly. I can't seem to get used to the taste" the patient replied. I then asked to see the jelly and the woman produced a foil packet labeled 'KY Jelly.'

Submitted by Dr. Leonard Kransdorf, Detroit, MI

 

 

7. A nurse was on duty in the Emergency Room when a young woman with purple hair styled into a punk rocker Mohawk, sporting a variety of tattoos, and wearing strange clothing, entered. It was quickly determined that the patient had acute appendicitis, so she was scheduled for immediate surgery. When she was completely disrobed on the operating table, the staff noticed that her pubic hair had been dyed green, and above it there was a tattoo that read, 'Keep off the grass.' Once the surgery was completed, the surgeon wrote a short note on the patient's dressing, which said, 'Sorry, had to mow the lawn.'

Submitted by RN no name

 

 

AND FINALLY---

 

 

8. As a new, young MD doing his residency, I was quite embarrassed when performing female pelvic exams. To cover my embarrassment, I had unconsciously formed a habit of whistling softly. The middle-aged lady upon whom I was performing this exam suddenly burst out laughing and further embarrassing me. I looked up from my work and sheepishly said, "I'm sorry. Was I tickling you?" She replied, "No doctor, but the song you were whistling was, 'I wish I was an Oscar Meyer Wiener'."

Dr. wouldn't submit his name.

 

Enjoy the giggles

I used to dream, or at least REMEMBER my dreams all the time. In the past few years, if I do dream, I don’t remember very many. Usually when I remember a dream, it’s way beyond stupid and makes NO sense at all, which most of them turn out to be, or it’s a dream that still makes no sense but makes me wonder what the hell happened to make me dream THAT.

Last night was one of those….OMG…WTF was THAT….kind of dream. I don’t remember a lot of specifics and the ones I do remember, have me questioning my own mind…since it was MY mind that conjured up this dream.

……I was in the house when my son came running in the house saying, “Daddy needs you at the shed now…..hurry”. I immediately start asking my son what’s going on and trying to find out any information from him as we’re hurrying across the yard to the shed but I have no luck. Once I walk into the shed, Hubby is standing over a brown blanket that’s extremely dirty and looks to be about 100 years old. I ask him what’s going on. The only thing he says is “Don’t freak out”. I just look at him and tell him to tell me what the hell is going on. He bends down and opens the blanket. Inside was a baby. The baby was dressed in a blue pajama outfit that was filthy and his hands and legs were tied together with a thick rope and then tied together so he couldn’t move any limbs. He appeared to be about 8 or 9 months old. He wasn’t crying or making any other noises. He just looked around at us as we looked back at him.

I immediately bent down and started undoing the ropes, telling someone to call 911. I could hear someone on the phone but didn’t pay much attention to them as I continued to try to get the ropes off the baby. Someone shoved the phone in my face, so I grabbed it and started talking to the dispatcher as I’m still trying to get the ropes off the baby. She kept asking me where the baby came from. I kept telling her that I had no idea, apparently someone had tied him up, wrapped him in a blanket and left him in our shed. I kept repeating the same thing over and over to her and yelling at her to hurry and send someone out. I was getting angry because she wasn’t listening to me. She acted as if it were no big deal that someone had left a baby tied up, wrapped up in a blanket in someone’s shed.

I kept yelling at the dispatcher to hurry up and send someone out so they could check for fingerprints or whatever it is that they do and to send a medic to make sure the baby was okay. She once again asked me where the baby came from. I finally lost it and said, “I don’t know where the fuck the baby came from. My husband found the baby in OUR shed. I’m trying to get the fucking ropes off the baby and all you want to know is WHERE did the baby come from. I told you….I DON’T KNOW!!!…..Now, could you please send someone over here NOW……..and tell them to hurry.”

Disgusted, I finally threw the phone to my husband and told him to “talk some sense into the dumb bitch” and I finished getting the ropes off the baby and took him in the house. I don’t know where my girls were when we were in the shed but once I got in the house with the baby, my girls were there with a thousand questions. None of which I could answer. I noticed when I got the baby in the house, he was much dirtier than I had initially thought and needed a diaper change so I started taking his clothes off. Under his pajamas was some type of plastic blanket thing. I tossed it aside and continued to undress him, checking for any injuries as I did. Aside from a few scrapes on his arms and legs, he appeared to be fine. I gave him a bath, dried him off, scrounged around for something to use as a diaper. Finding only a dishtowel and some clothes pins, we made a makeshift diaper and wrapped him in a towel.

I had just sat down on the couch with the baby when Hubby came in telling me that they would send someone out but it would probably take a day or two. I just looked at him like he had grown three heads. I started rocking the baby and telling my husband that if they took much longer, he was mine. I wouldn’t let them take him. Apparently his mother was an ass and couldn’t/wouldn’t take care of him. At that, Hubby just shakes his head and tells me that he’s going to burn the blanket the baby was in. I yell for him not to touch it or anything in the shed. I want them to find out who tied the baby up like that and left him there. I wanted them to be punished. He said “OK…you’re right, I didn’t think about that. I’ll leave everything like it is and lock the shed so no one can get in there.”

The girls were sitting on the couch with the baby between them and I was sitting in the floor. We were talking back and forth about how someone could do that and how cute the baby was and then we started wondering what his name was so we started saying different names to see if we’d get any type of response. I don’t remember any of the names we called out but none seemed to spark an interest in him so we finally gave up and just referred to him as baby boy.

After awhile of talking and playing with the baby, I went to clean up after his bath session. I took his blue outfit and that plastic blanket thing and laid them out across the table. I don’t know what I was looking for but I started inspecting the items. There were no holes or tears in the outfit, it was just dirty. I turned to the blanket thing trying to figure out what it was. It reminded me of the hooded towels they have for babies but it was really thin and it felt more like plastic than cloth. It was white but dingy. I turned it over and on the back was a lot of writing. Almost like someone had sat and doodled on it out of boredom. I tried to read some of it but most of the ink had smeared and was hard to read. Toward the bottom of the blanket, was the name “Jesse Williams”

I started yelling to the girls that I found out what the baby’s name was and then I woke up.

Tied up babies named Jesse Williams just bug the shit out of me today!!!!!

If your name happens to be Jesse Williams…I am sorry……….watch out for blue pajamas, dirty blankets and thick ropes.

Seriously though……..I don’t know where ANY of this came from. I haven’t watched anything even remotely this screwed up and I know of NO ONE named Jesse, William, Jesse Williams or any other version.

STRANGE!!!!!

I think I’ve mentioned before that my youngest daughter is picky about what t-shirt and jeans she wears (and that’s ALL she wears). She’s had a dress on ONCE since 2nd grade. Not that I didn’t try to get her to wear skirts or dresses. I did. This is just one child that didn’t want ANYTHING to do with either one and she was extremely picky about what she DID wear from the 2nd grade onward.

Sometime during her 2nd grade year, I remember one morning while trying to get everyone fed and off to school, I went to check on her to see how she was coming along with getting dressed. To my dismay, she was sitting in the middle of the floor in her underwear and socks, arms folded over her chest, mad as a wet hen. I asked what was wrong and she responded that she had nothing to wear. This, AFTER we had been through what she was going to wear the night BEFORE and she had AGREED to it.

We went a few rounds and what she wanted to wear and what she didn’t want to wear. And with each round, I was steady losing my patience with the half naked kid on the floor. Needless to say, I was losing the battle and running out of time. I finally threw my hands up in total frustration and told her to put on anything as long as she had some clothes on and left the room.

After giving her plenty of time to get dressed, I went back in the room to check her progress. Imagine my surprise when I found her still sitting in the same place with no more clothes on than she had on to begin with. I promptly loss what little bit of patience I had left and started dressing her myself. If you’ve ever tried to dress a mule then you know exactly how it was with me trying to dress my daughter that morning. I had to struggle to put her socks on her feet. Every time I’d try, she would spread her toes, making almost impossible to get them on but I finally held her toes together and slid her socks on her feet. The pants were next and they were no easier than the socks. Imagine putting pants on a moving 2x4. It sucks!! And the shirt…..OMG……..I had NO IDEA how strong a 7 year old skinny little girl could be!!!! I tried to get her arms in the sleeves of her shirt and it was a chore. By the time I got her shoes on and tied, I needed a nap. That was like a workout from hell.

I left the room, telling her to hurry up and get her bookbag so she wouldn’t miss the bus then I went to round the other two kids up. As we were getting ready to walk out the door, I call for my youngest daughter but no such luck. I tell the other two kids to get in the car and I went to see what was keeping my youngest daughter. I walked into her room instantly felt the anger settle over me as I saw her sitting in the floor............once again in her underwear and socks.

I was beyond any mention of what one might call ‘normal anger’ and I didn’t dare even TRY to dress her again or say too much to her. I just looked at her and told her she had two minutes to put something, anything on her body or she was going to school in her underwear and socks.

She must have realized that she had pushed me way too far and that I meant what I said because she came out not 30 seconds later fully clothed.

That was my youngest daughter at age 7. Ten years later, at age 17, the only difference is that I don’t physically have to dress her but she’s still just as picky and as stubborn as she was.


Her graduation is coming up and they are REQUIRED to dress up in order to participate in some of the senior activities at school. She needed dress clothes by last Friday, so my mother took her out Thursday, while I was at work, trying to find her something to wear. She comes back with a pair of white dress pants…No shirt, no shoes to go with the pants.

Later the same evening, she decides that she no longer likes the white pants she’s had in her possession for a whole 3 hours. She asked me if she could take them back to get another pair and also get a shirt and shoes while she was there (which kills me since she should’ve done all of that earlier when she was there). So her and my oldest daughter were off to the mall on a mission for a graduation outfit.

After being gone for FOUR hours……..guess what she comes home with………..

A white shirt!!!

No pants!!!

No shoes!!!

Just a white shirt!!!

So it was after 10 O’clock on Thursday evening and every other clothing store was closed. Friday is when she NEEDED the outfit to take a class picture with the cap and gown on. So……….Yep…you guessed it. She’s not going to be in the picture since she didn’t have dress clothes.

This only comes as a mild shock since her senior picture won’t be in the yearbook either. She decided she just didn’t want to have one taken……….so……….she didn’t. The only pictures I’ll have to prove that my daughter is/was a senior will be the ones that I take the day of graduation. Which I guess in the whole scheme of things is the only ones that really matter.

I hope everyone had a great holiday weekend

It was one of the prettiest weekends we've had in a very long time so I was able to get some things done around the yard. On Saturday, I was finally able to get into my flower beds and get some weeding done.

I've got three rose bushes and two other types of evergreen bushes in this one bed. This is the first year that my roses have done really good. I counted over a dozen open flowers and quite a few buds on one plant and the other two plants are doing well also. The only thing that distracted from this was that the weeds were almost as tall as the bush itself

As I started pulling weeds and trimming around the outside of the bed, I noticed we were being invaded by ants. Not just any ant but the relentless, flesh biting kind . As I would pull a weed, zillions (or so it seemed) of ants would coming scurrying out from under the dirt, which they have effectively turned into sand . I saw ant eggs for the first time in my life and I'll be fine and dandy if it's the last

The more weeds I pulled, the more ants came marching out from underground straight up my arms I stood up trying to brush the ants off my hands and arms but I guess my sweat acted like crazy glue because I had a hard time brushing them off ). About the time I thought I had the last one brushed off, I feel something on my legs . I look down and yep...you guessed it....MORE ants attacking from a different direction. . I at least had enough sense THIS time to move AWAY from the flower bed while I tried once again to brush the ants off my sweaty skin. This time I think they were out for blood. Before I could get them brushed off, a few of them sunk their teeth, fangs, hooks, whatever the hell it is that ants have into my legs

After the second round of the 'brushing of the ants' I decided to take a stronger course of action. ANT KILLER!!!!! I sprayed and sprayed the ants. They wouldn't die . I sprayed some more. They wouldn't die. I was convinced that I had the 'mutant ants from hell' With each squirt of the spray, the words "Die bitch"..."You evil little shits...DIE"........"Die dammit" would spew from my lips. As I'm ranting and spraying at the ants, Baxter, my dog, is behind me barking his ass off. At ME of course. I don't know what he was trying to tell me but I'm sure it wasn't anything nice aimed toward me

As I gave up on a just a little spray, I started dumping the ant killer onto the ants figuring that if the chemical wouldn't kill 'em then maybe the little bastards would drown

It was a slow process but it worked. I'm not sure it the chemical is what finally got 'em or what but they died a slow horrible death, I'm sure. I didn't want them to be tortured. I wanted them to die quickly but that was not to be the way it was. I tried

So I killed the ants (or most of 'em........I'm sure the survivors will hunt me down and do unspeakable things to my flesh ) and got my bed weeded.

You know what this means right?

In a few days........I won't have a flower left alive in it

Myspace Graphics- At Myspacejunks.com

Have fun and stay safe!!!