Did I just dream the part where I finally agreed it was smallpox? Well, if what I thought was reality was actually a dream, then the reverse... oh, my God, I had a threesome with Beyonce and Lady Gaga.
No. I just made that up to see your reaction. Diagnostic test. This is awesome. 33-year-old carpenter presenting with narcissism, delusions of grandeur, hallucinations.
Steroids isn't fascinating, it's moronic. There's no other sign of hormonal imbalance. What's fascinating is that you equate discipline with bullying. Which means that your parents either disciplined you too much or too little. I'm guessing too little.
When Cuddy was protecting me before, she was protecting a doctor. She's now protecting a boyfriend. The hospital's not gonna put up with that for long. So I need you to protect me from doing something Cuddy will regret.
Tutor it is. Choose your poison. Chase, if you prefer pounding Aussie beers and commiserating over the suckiness of divorce. Masters, if you want nervous energy, flash cards, and obnoxious pieces of arcane trivia. Foreman, if you need to be berated by a humorless hard-ass.
I put making friends and having relationships on hold so I could concentrate on studying. I always thought there'll be plenty of time for that in the future. But… now when I do want them… I can't even get a date to this charity event. If I can't establish relationships in my personal life, how will I ever do it with a patient?