indesolution

FIVE THINGS CURRENTLY PISSING COXSIE OFF.

5. THE STASH. Someone touched it. If I cared even a little bit about any of you on this network then I MIGHT have thought to check up here, but then I thought, you know, if I was a thief, I wouldn't return to the scene of the crime, much less publicly admit what I was doing! So, PINK THING, I'm not even really that mad at you. There's more alcohol. It's me, there's ALWAYS more alcohol. Mostly I'm just super impressed that you had the balls to detail your thievery. It... it astounds me, it does. Reaching new heights of intelligence. Kudos to you, Pink Thing.

4. SNOW. I come in peace from California, and even though it's been oh good god half a year since I saw a single palm tree or cloudless blue sky, snow? Not so much my thing. In fact, I hate it. I hate it good. This could be because Jordan and I once went on vacation to the Alps, where I got my ass handed to me by a burly French ski instructor who, I swear to god, had biceps on his biceps, and my darling ex-wife made a VERY AVANT GARDE snow angel with François, said ski instructor. Or maybe it could be because I just hate snow. There are days when I wake up from my drunken haze and stumble to work and think GEE YOU KNOW, I don't actually think I could hate this place more! And then I have to walk through reindeer games and a snowball fight to get to work. You'll get yours, kids. You will get yours.

3. PEOPLE DISAPPEARING— though it's not even really about the people disappearing, truth be told, because as stated before: so don't care about any of you! It's more that no one's doing a damn thing about it. Has anyone investigated why this is happening? Mr. Vampy and his detective agency, or you crazy science kids, or I don't even care, it just baffles me that NO ONE IS ON THIS YET. I'd do it myself but oh good god, as Murse himself can attest, I'm busy being very important and saving lives day in and day out. And when I'm not, I'm busy being better than you. Doesn't matter who you are. We lose crazy pseudo-terrorists, we lose the most prominent politician, we lose kids, kids for fuck's sake, and still no one does anything about it. Look, I know that they can't be brought back, and even if they could, why would you? I wouldn't condemn anyone to this hellhole, especially not for a second time. But you'd think someone would figure out WHY THIS IS HAPPENING and how to stop it. Or, better yet, how to let us all jump right along. Another way in which the corrupt government sickens me. Carry on!

2. IN ALL LIKELIHOOD, YOU. Yes, you. Forever you. All of you.

1. HUGH JACKMAN. Forever and ever, amen.

giantego

No rant today, kids! Just one teeny tiny question.

So, are the recently departed's belongings a free for all?

giantego

This has been the longest twenty-four hours of my life and I have nothing of substance to say other than OH GOOD GOD and WHAT THE HELL and variations on I HATE MY LIFE.

If you were stupid enough to venture out without proper defense, you probably got gnawed on. To which I say, oh, EXCELLENT job there. If you got bitten — or if you know anyone who did — or if you see anyone around who looks like they were — then get your/their ass to the hospital immediately. And when I say immediately, I don't mean dither on and on about it for fifteen minutes, twirling your hair and biting your fingernails and wondering oh, oh is this the right thing to do, oh should I just put them out of their misery? NO, you shouldn't. You should BRING THEM TO THE HOSPITAL. NOW.

We've got a vaccine.

Triple shift, here comes Jesus H. Cox.

giantego

BABYLON DRINKING GAME!
Because I said I was going to. It was worth it. People died for this list.
Play along at home, kids! Because god knows I do.

TAKE A SHOT WHENEVER...

A newbie asks about someone who isn't here.
Someone complains about their job.
Someone complains about not having a job.
Anyone mentions their "duty" back at home and how badly they need to go back.
Nathan Petrelli makes a long, condescending post filled to the brim with political jargon.
Charlie Dalton makes a comment on said entry. Yes, every time. Yes, you're already plastered.
Someone makes a new post after that to complain about the government's latest cockgrab.
Anyone bitches about the breeding propaganda.
Dante hits on someone.
Yuuko Ichihara says something cryptic.
Rube Sofer calls Mason a fuck up.
You see the word "revolution."
Bobby Drake makes more than three comments in under a minute.
Simca, Kururu or Shiki use a face that you can't even make out.
Vilma Fachiri talks about kung-fu or recruits a new student.
The rollerblade kids talk about getting their ~sky~ back.
Two anime kids are really obvious about boning each other.
You don't know what the hell River Tam is talking about.
Ravi calls someone "boss."
Rokudou Mukuro uses someone's full name like the creepy creep that he is.
Anyone posts to gloat over their latest misdeeds.
Anyone bitches about their roommate.
Near creepily knows the exact name and location of someone in babylon.
L welcomes the new influx of residents.
Prince Zuko or Todd Anderson leave a blank comment.
Princess Azula threatens her brother.
Hibari strings more than two words together.
Nia asks a question.
Ky Kiske placates the people.
Anyone quotes poetry anywhere.
Rhode Camelot screws with our dreams.
People go back and forth with song lyrics.
Anyone talks about overthrowing Nathan Petrelli.
Peter Petrelli steps in to defend his brother.
Someone bitches about the Disciplinary Committee.
The baseball kids are really really flamboyantly obviously homosexual toward one another.
Anyone complains about the food quality here. It's bad, we get it.
The triad of social rejects has an overdramatic blowout over something completely trivial in plain view of the public.
Andrew Wells knows more about someone's canon than that person does.
Jonathan Levinson uses "um."
Warren Mears threatens to kill someone, or alludes to his alleged badassery.
Faith Lehane does something slutty or violent.
Sparkplug and his pedobait have an obvious lover's quarrel.
Yagami Raito acknowledges his fiancee's overenthusiastic existence.
Captain Malcolm Reynolds uses improper grammar.
I GO ON ONE OF MY INFAMOUS RANTS AT SOMEONE.
Another organized fight goes down.
Anyone lands themselves in prison and bitches endlessly about it once they get out.
There's a wonderful reunion of long-lost friends/enemies/lovers/siblings.
Someone comes back from the dead!
Anyone makes a nerd reference that goes over their friend's head.
Molly Mahoney mentions her magical toy store.
Buffy and Angel have super tons of UST.
Cordelia Chase says "whatever."
Max Bialystock and Leo Bloom recruit people for the next new horrible horrible musical extravaganza.
Edward Cullen subtly alludes to his vampiricism.
Akira Udou alleges that Matt Parkman brainraped him.
Oosaki Nana and Rock Howard discuss their failure of a band.
Iori Yagami puts up with Andrew Wells. (Seriously, about you NOT eating my bruschetta next time.)
Maureen Johnson talks about her performance art.
Any and all of the ~Meisters~ talk about their machinery blah blah that they left at home.
Lilly Kane acts like a drunken whore.
Lyra Silvertongue outsmarts someone five times her age.
The nerds hit on Scully.
Shawn Spencer and his buddy Gus make a ~psychic~ prediction.
Tamaki Suou remains blindingly oblivious to all the lust and violence of the world.
Anya Jenkins takes a metaphor far too literally.
That Satsuki kid awkwardly talks about humans.
Sawada Tsunayoshi steps in to mediate the mafia bullshit.
The mafia family acts more gay than life-threatening.
Gokudera swears like a sailor and calls the baseball idiot... well. A baseball idiot. See, it's sticking! Like any good nickname should!
Kanda Yuu threatens to kill someone.
Akito and Agito switch off.
Chrome Dokuro tries to reason with you about Rokudou's actions.
All you can focus on are Natsume Aya's endowments.
Nero and Dante have an increasingly homosexual fight.
Anyone advertises a new club (Grounded Anonymous, I Died In My Canon, the rollerblading whatevers, BBNBA, the DC, the dance club, blah blah blah blah blah blah blah).
The old people get their alcoholism on.
The young kids are sexualized.
ADDITIONS WELCOME.

DRAIN THE BOTTLE WHENEVER...

Minami Itsuki gets through a whole sentence without any typos.
Rokudou Mukuro brutally tortures someone.
Rei Ayanami puts together more than three words.
A political figurehead mysteriously kicks the bucket and all hell breaks loose!
The all-small crew (Dante, Levinson, Aang, Kururu, Mason, pink thing, Kazu, Lilly, Toph, Gau, Yuusuke) use proper capitalization.
The all-caps crew (Itsuki, Max Bialystock, Bobby Drake) use proper capitalization.
Someone makes a horrible production illustrating the many problems of Babylon.
Anyone, anyone at all, has any semblance of heterosexual relations.

DRINK YOURSELF INTO A STUPOR IF...

We actually find a way out of this damn fishbowl.

giantego

I think there's a placebo effect of being in this place. You come through with all your memories intact, all your experiences throughout your horrible, miserable existences, but the whole BEING IN A NEW WORLD and GOVERNMENT THAT PUTS APHRODISIACS IN THE WATER thing tends to make you think, you know, gee golly, my life was fictional — maybe, just maybe, that means that my memories are fictional too!! But this is getting a little more philosophical than scientific, blah blah relatively real blah, my point is that sometimes you feel like you're forgetting everything you ever knew. Then you get these random flashbacks that remind you, oh my god, my life was worth something back at home! Who knew! Fancy that! I must share my discovery with the community!

There was a day, possibly the last day that I was really truly honestly happy, that my chief of medicine decided to try out the discounted stethoscopes he had been forcing on us for months. "You're all complaining for no reason!" Bobbo said, sticking those puppies right in his ears. And then, joy of joys, dream of dreams, heart of hearts, HE WENT TEMPORARILY DEAF.

Imagine the worst boss you've ever had. Or, for you prepubescent wonders (and by the way, SMASHING uniforms, also Azula and co., could you maybe hold back and count to ten next time they piss you off and STOP sending students to the ER? Thanks a bushel!) the worst teacher. Then multiply it by the size of the sun. Then give it horns, a tail, and pointy little hooves. Then name it Robert Kelso, M.D., and you have the boss of my life for twentymghskd years. Now, imagine that horrible awful no good boss/teacher/general nuisance being deaf for a day. What would you say to them? Possibly OH BOB YOU WORTHLESS MOTHERFUCKER EVERY TIME I SEE YOU I GET ONE STEP CLOSER TO THE ALCOHOL AND PAINKILLER INDUCED SUICIDE I'VE BEEN INCHING TOWARD FOR YEARS, BUT INSTEAD OF KILLING MYSELF I THINK I'LL JUST KILL YOU INSTEAD. NOW SMILE AND NOD IF YOU WANT ME TO.

And he did. Smile and nod, that is.

Sadly enough, my ~love for my job~ kept me from actually strangling him with those grade-F stethoscopes. But the fact is that, when I sobered up this morning and put on my shiny white doctor's coat, the memory of giving Kelso a piece of my mind was returned to me, and it felt damn good.

Andrew. Code Bruschetta. STAT.

giantego

I hear there are going to be fireworks this weekend? Well, then! I'll start readying myself for the influx of burn victims. And, you know, it is Babylon, so everything is bound to blow up in someone's face — figuratively and literally, how's that for poetry? In the event of another "random" and "untimely" political death, or a selective amnesia-inducing riot, or a Disciplinary Committee float in the parade that shoots daggers at anyone whose clothes aren't perfectly pressed, or just another good old-fashioned mafia shoot-out, then we'll be ready. I should just move into the hospital permanently. Because you kids! Are just so wacky!!

Elle, I'm sick of Chinese take-away. Find a good Italian place next time, possibly with real bruschetta.

giantego

Would you look at that! I have an hour between shifts that I've actually taken to come home, NOT get drunk, and make this VERY IMPORTANT ANNOUNCEMENT:

STOP FIGHTING EACH OTHER FOR NO GOOD GOD DAMN REASON.

And oh HEY THERE ROKUDO, thanks for leaving the eye in this time! You're a pal!

I, and the rest of the doctors and nurses on staff, hate you all. Good day.

giantego

HEY KIDS,

I WILL END YOU.

XOXO,
DR. PERRY "FISTS OF ASBESTOS" COX

giantego

I'm sorry, did I hear somebody say costume party? Well golly gee Mollie Sue (who am I referring to? THE DOMES MAY NEVER KNOW!) doesn't that just sound like more fun than the soda pop sock hop on Saturday evening! Hmm, I wonder what I should go as? I feel like my Playboy bunny costume is getting a little outdated, what with the wearing it every Halloween and occasionally for my ex-wife and then lending it out to Bob Kelso's son for his own personal usage which I damn sure do not ever want to think about, and you know, showing up naked just doesn't seem like an option, so hmm! Whatever shall I do! Why, I think I'll ask the community! Everyone there clearly loves me and wants to put up with my lame bullshit questions about whether I should wear the pink frilly tutu (belonging to Elle), the stylish yet gunshot wound-concealing pencil skirt (Cordelia), the pink apron for when you bake blood cakes (Akito), or the beret of barely repressed homosexuality (dead poet #3 though seriously, kids, you all look alike) or if I should just make something on my own! I think I still have patterns left from

OH I'M SORRY, I SEEM TO HAVE DOZED OFF! This just in: so do not care! Look, for all you wondering what to go as, why don't you muse about it in your own head? That's the only place where anyone cares, I can tell you that much. OR, if you're one of the ones who for some reason has to pop in to tell us that NO MEANS NO and you aren't going to go, ask yourself this question — do we care? Do any of us really, truly care? No! Go or don't go, and that's less drivel for me to scroll past during my daily check to see if the hellions have followed me from Sacred Heart. Which, still, thank you thank you thank you god for not cursing me with their presence. The hospital is a quieter (and safer, and more efficient, and less susceptible to malpractice lawsuits) place for it.

Switching gears entirely, listen up, roomie. If I hear a peep about the costume party during the two hours of relative silence I get in our apartment every day, I can't be held responsible for my actions. Everything just goes red! Like a bull! You may all be saying OH DR. COX BUT I THINK I SHOULD GO AS...... or DR. COX WHAT SHOULD I..... or DR. COX COULD YOU....... but all I hear is WAH WAH PLEASE PUNCH ME IN THE FACE, DR. COX, I WOULD LOVE NOTHING MORE THAN YOUR FIST SAYING A VERY CHEERFUL AND EXUBERANT HELLO TO MY MOUTH! And I'm sure that's not what most of you are saying (though Elle seems to have some interesting kinks up her sleeve) but like I said. Just can't be held responsible for what I do to stupid people.

[ Filter: Private ]
I miss Jordan.

giantego

I have one teeny tiny, itsy bitsy request for the citizens of Babylon as a whole:

COULD WE STOP WITH THE USELESS FIGHTING? As much I as I absolutely l-o-v-e love love LOVE trauma patients and all of their pissed off, antagonistic bitterness, and their broken bones and bruised ribs and black eyes and missing teeth, and their complete inability to COME TO PHYSICAL THERAPY WHEN I TELL THEM TO, I am really, reeeeheheheheeeeeeeeeeally sick of dealing with injuries that could have been prevented by someone simply saying to themselves, GEE, YOU KNOW, MAYBE TODAY ISN'T SUCH A GOOD DAY TO TRY TO ASSERT MY SUPERIORITY! Not that I have anything against asserting superiority — see also: I'm a doctor — but when it keeps landing you in the hospital, you'd think that maybe you'd realize that you should give it a rest.

Elle, you're due in for a check on that brand spankin' new eye of yours next week. Cordelia Chase, letting us know your progress on that whole walking thing would be really just peachy keen. Everyone hurt in the brawl, YOU'RE WELCOME.

giantego

Deeeeeeeeeeeear kindly Babylonians!

Here are a few fun facts about Coxsie. One, some hypothesize that he was actually breastfed scotch, and because of this, his alcohol tolerance is akin to that of a rampaging rhinoceroses. Two, he does actually keep a mental list of girls' names for Newbelina and is nowhere near even a fraction of the way through with it. Not that it matters, because for all the shit luck in this world, we still haven't been graced by the princess's over-moussed head, and fun fact number three: Coxsie is eternally grateful for that, to the ends of the earth. Or as it stands, the ends of this dome, which (four) he is beginning to think is a personal hell designed specially by Bob Kelso to teach him a lesson about dealing with the complete and utter BULLSHIT that patients go through to get themselves landed in his care.

LISTEN UP. Here's what's not kosher: you all getting just! so! bored! with your pathetic, newly unfictionalized lives, that you start shooting each other. There is a chronic case of whining and bitching and moaning and angst, so! much! angst! in this hospital. Not to mention bullet wounds but apparently you all can heal yourselves, so excuse the mystical shaman doctorman who clearly doesn't know what the hell he's doing, you just keep on bleeding all over the place and ranting about pirates with guns. PIRATES WITH GUNS. THIS WORLD, WHAT THE HELL.

So if you've got it in your head to make my super fabulous life even a fraction better by taking out your ~*~justified rage~*~ out in the form of hurting someone else (you sick bastard) here is my advice: Just make like a bitter ex looking through old photo albums and cut it the hell out. Your drama queen antics pay my bills, but nothing, nothing, NOOOOOOOOOTHING will pay for my bar tab or impending aneurysm.

In conclusion, I hate you all forever and ever. Amen.

xoxo, your bff4ever,
Dr. Perry Cox.

giantego

What the hell?

No, really, WHAT THE HELL.

Listen up, folks. I have been, on the whole, veeeeeery unimpressed with this Babylonian empire we seem to be stuck in. Sure, medical technology far beyond my wildest dreams is a hoot and a holler, and you kids are just the cutest and most entertaining things to ever grace this horrible fishbowl. BUT. On the whole, me? Not so much with the likey likey! I've barely, barely left the hospital but from what I've seen, I don't need to. The rest of you are content to go about your own lives, swallowing down that jumbo-sized crazy pill every morning with your glass of insanity juice and your toast made out of sorrow, jam of terror. As it turns out, a nuclear apocalypse turns folks into the most intense and annoying kind of hypochondriac I've ever seen, hence my living quarters relocation to the on-call room at the hospital. In the end, it reeeeeally does not matter, because I've not yet been assigned a roommate — and thank you, God that I do not believe in and never will, because Perrperr isn't one for the breeding!

Which brings me to my point.

Look. In my world, we had to fight against dipshit morons who thought that something called ~abstinence only~ sex education was right as rain. You know what it was right as? It was right as skyrocketing teenage pregnancy rates and political wars over medical issues. As a registered independent — though I guess that the government/dictatorship here wouldn't give two licks about my voting status — I can tell you: IT WAS ANEURYSM-INDUCING. But how is the opposite better? Abstinence never sex education? Is this even sex education at all? I'm going to go with a resounding heavenly chorus of IT'S NOT. It's a sex jihad. And don't get me wrong, I don't disapprove of sex, I love sex, sometimes I think that sex is all that's great and good left in our world, but when it's being taught to children? Not even just teenagers, but CHILDREN? Something is way the hell wrong with the sick and twisted minds of the school board. I'm against government involvement in our schools, our homes, our churches, our places of business, our collective pants, ANYTHING, and while I don't care about the kids — because, really, you all are annoying more than precocious — I care about this. Because it's wrong. Not just wrong, it's sick. And as a doctor, I can say that sick don't sit too well with me.

I'm going to go give them a piece of my mind. They won't listen — because who wants to listen to a fictional doctor, anyway, despite the fact that he's saving lives with the best of them, and probably better than them — but it's worth a shot. Either way: have fun with your project, kids. I look forward to the absolute landslide of whining and bitching that's to come. Uncle Coxsie will be over here, trying to buy a gun to blow his brains out.

giantego

Oh, come on now. What is this? I'm here less than a day and I'm already expected to spill my guts to a computer of all things, and I've got a job, and patients. Lucky, lucky Perry! Though apparently my word against the chief of medicine's doesn't hold water here either, and whammo! Back to residency. Eye transplants? Really? In my world, a glass eye and a spit shine was a-okay.

But oh, Perrperr, isn't there a silver lining? Why yes, conscious that sounds suspiciously like my old therapist back at Sacred Heart, yes, there is! You see, folks, I've called out all across the land. I've trawled every square inch of the Babylon hospital. Here's the deal: there's no sign of Newbie, Gandhi, Barbie, or Beelzebob. Do you understand? No, I don't think that you do. Imagine with me, kids. Imagine a world filled with light and hope and wonderful cotton candy trees. Now imagine it being torn apart by Satan himself in the body of a geriatric, and his three little minions on a mission from hell to one, sproing my hair, two, ask me for advice about inane details of their lives I would rather forget, and three, generally kill the little beauty that's left in my world. Oh, fun! And then, after years of that hell, back to the land of cotton candy trees. And let me tell you, they taste good.

Now, I like this little euphoric high I've got going! But if it's going to get cut off -- and for the sake of your genitals, especially yours Newbie, you'd better hope to God it's not going to get cut off -- I'd rather we do it quickly. So if you're out there, banes of my existence, come out and play! Otherwise, I'll be over here, tears of joy streaming down my face and the victory fanfare playing.