Dr. Grumpy's gift guide

You've perfected your sexy pole-dancing moves, but none of your local strip bars are currently hiring. What's a girl to do? You have to earn a living.

Now, for only $499, you can take your show on the road with the trailer-hitch dancing pole! No smoky bar needed! Pull up to a skanky street corner and start the show!

The stage supports up to 200 lbs. Dollar bill storage box and stereo & light systems not included.

Dr. Grumpy's Gift Guide

Regrettably, these fine outfits aren't as easily available as they were in the 1970's. But I'm featuring them anyway, as a throwback to how REAL men used to dress, before the most important thing was whether or not you had an iPhone pocket.

I wonder if the hats were included.

Zzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzz

Dr. Grumpy: "Any triggers to your headaches?"

Mr. Coriolis: "They only occur when the barometric pressure drops."

Dr. Grumpy: "And what medications..."

Mr. Coriolis: "See, I began tracking barometric pressure with an iPhone app, comparing it to my headache diary" (takes out a notebook) "and here are some graphs I made up. I downloaded the barometric pressures of cities I've been in going back 38 years, to when I was born, and then I graphed them against..."

Dr. Grumpy's gift guide

How many times a day do you find yourself wondering "Gee, how many eggs do I have at home?" 5? 10? 78?

If you're like me, you really don't care. But, if this a subject of serious importance to you,  it creates a real dilemma. I mean, if you're at the store, you can always hedge your bets and buy more eggs, but what if you get home and find you already have some? Then you have more eggs than you need, taking up space you could be chilling Diet Coke in.

By the same token, you can NOT buy them, then get home and find you're out. And now your plans to serve cheese omelets at the formal dinner party are in disarray.

Sure, you can always call home and ask someone, but if your kids are like mine they won't look. They'll set the phone down, play Metroid for 2 minutes, then pick it up and give me a made-up number.

But now... THE PROBLEM IS SOLVED!!!

The Egg Minder is the latest in modern chicken ovum tracking devices. It's a computerized egg tray that keeps count of how many eggs are left and which one is the oldest. AND you can access this valuable data from your smartphone anytime! It will even send you a push notification when you're running low. So you never have to have an "OMG HOW MANY EGGS ARE LEFT AT HOME?!!!" panic attack ever again.

It also holds 14 eggs. Since they're generally sold in multiples of 12, those with OCD will need to buy 7 dozen eggs and 6 Egg Minders to get a perfect fit. And then you just know you'll drop one while transferring them.

Paging Dr. Yossarian

Yesterday I received this fax from a pharmacy company. As best I understand it, they don't authorize the drug involved... So to get it covered I need to call...

The telltale cup

Rick was my resident for a month during internship. He was notoriously lazy. The last to arrive for a code, the first to leave after call, and never seeming to be around when you needed him.

He wasn't the kind of lazy who intentionally dumped work on others. He didn't see why anyone had to do it, and encouraged me and the other intern, Karen, not to do things either. As a result Karen and I spent a few days getting reamed out by attendings until we figured out NOT to follow Rick's instructions on ignoring labs, med sheets, exam findings, etc.

Rick, as these people always are, didn't feel he was the problem.

Anyway, one day my team was on call, which meant we were responsible for all codes, with Rick being the one who had to run them. Around mid-day there was a code on the 7th floor. Karen and I were both in ER doing admissions, but immediately dropped everything, and (big surprise) got to the room before him. We were frantically trying to remember our ACLS drills when a cardiologist ran in, then the chief resident, pretty much tossing us out.

After a few minutes Rick, the guy who was supposed to be running the code, came in. He was pretending to be panting (not a drop of sweat on him) saying he'd run all the way up the stairs from the lobby coffee place.

He was carrying a styrofoam cup filled to the brim with steaming coffee.

Without a lid.

And he hadn't spilled a drop en route to the code. Not a single brown dribble mark on the sides.

Dr. Grumpy's gift guide

As the Earth continues its trip around the sun, the holidays are again approaching. And with them, of course, the annual Dr. Grumpy Gift Guide!

I'd like to kick things off this year with something truly meaningful, special, and unique.

Chocolates have long been a way of telling that special person how you truly feel. Sometimes, of course, we encounter someone who's special in an entirely different way. When this happens we wonder "What can I give this person to convey my true feelings to them?"

The answer, of course, is this: A chocolate asshole!

Yes, the folks at Edible Anus purvey the finest in anally-shaped candies, using only pure Belgian chocolate. These delectable assholes are available in milk, dark, and white chocolate, and are handmade in England.

For that truly special person you can also order sterling silver assholes. They also have glass ones. I am not making this up.

The tagline on their site is "The anus that made Britain great." I'll defer any commentary on that to my readers across the pond.