On the phone with my friend in korea and he’s explaining to me in english that he must stop smoking because he doesn’t want to become impotent.
Walking down Gangnam street he says (in english) “I must stop smoking for my dick. My dick is important. If my dick does the broken I cannot sex.”
and I hear in absolute plain english behind him “WHAT”
Cranquis and i have an agreement that allows me 3 guesses of his location per year. Unfortunately, I have used up my guesses for the year, so I can’t really venture a guess now. Also, my location guesses are based on my sleuthing of his blog and are between me and him (her?).
But I’m currently working on states between New York and California, if that narrows things down for you any.
Meanwhile, in Honolulu…
I think we should have a Cranquis code so we all can be sure that the doctor we saw at an urgent care location was or was not Cranquis.
I’m pretty sure I’ve said this before — if I ever have a patient who loudly whispers “True Story, KIDDOS” at me without breaking eye contact, I’ll confirm with the countersign of “Not true — everybody lies”.
(Then I’ll stab you in the thigh with 5ccs IM haloperidol, and dash out the exam room to warn my colleagues that my patient was acting delusional and had to be sedated for their own safety. You’ll awaken from a chemically-induced coma 3 days later, lying under a highway overpass, with the words “NO ONE WILL BELIEVE YOU” scrawled on your palms in surgical markey. When you stagger back to the Urgent Care where you last saw me, the entire building will have been converted into a Wal-Mart.)