Justin is fully ensconced in his new and latest job of life-saving superhero a.k.a. paramedic. He rolls into the emergency room looking all fly in his blood-covered uniform barking orders and the ladies are swooning. Remember that ghastly polyester-shirted powder-sugar snorting Justin from the off-brand Ambien inspired Walker Christmas Carol episode? He's like that, but blood covered. So obviously WAY more awesome.

The nurse --and I am starting to realize that I don't actually know her name or I did know it and now I have forgotten it -- gets the vapors at the sight of Justin rollin' with his gut shot homie into her ER all spattered and handsome. She throws her panties at him. Based on my close studying of Grey's Anatomy, this is actually common behavior for hospital employees and is actually encouraged by the HR department to improve hospital morale.

Justin's IRL wife tells him she loves his swagger and his sway and can't wait to show him how much, you know, at the bowling alley later. Justin makes an I Smelt It face and she's like what? I didn't dealt it. Justin explains that as the rookie paramedic, he signed on to work a double. No bowling alley. So if they hadn't just run into each other in the ER, was he just going to stand her up? That'll get her scrubs in a bunch. She nods that the job is his life and she is happy to be second fiddle to his fluid-spewing career choice. She has low self-esteem because she is really quite hideous to look at (hahahahahha, in the words of Raymond Chandler, that girl is so pretty she would make a bishop kick out a stained glass window), so this behavior is quite reasonable to her. Justin says he will try to meet her for lunch later, if he can, maybe pencil her in or something. Maybe. Don't hold your breath. He has his career to think about. She touches the hem of his blood-spattered uniform as he turns on his heel and walks away. Sigh... he's so dreamy. In a Saw IV kind of way.

Professional Radio Personality Dr. Carl is trying to add some fortune to his fame and has written a book of folksy aphorisms and paternalistic advice proving that he is basically Wilford Brimley without a luxuriant moustache. In other words, he's just the oatmeal. This does not stop the fifty-something ladies from lining up to have him sign their books. That is not a euphemism for anything. Nora surprises Dr. Carl by standing in line and asking him to inscribe her book to "Nora Adrenaline" which is barfy. He stands up and then asks her to sit down next to him on the other side of the table for a front row seat to all the action. His action. A lusty lady strolls up, smiles big, and asks him to sign the book to Tricia. Nora, despite the impossibility of the move due to being on the same side of the table as the good doctor, moves to cockblock the bitch. She pulls out Dr. Carl's phone that he "left" at her house last night (read: she swiped just for this occasion). As she utters the words she smiles cattily at Tricia. Dr. Carl stares at his phone in confusion, but Tricia gets it. When Nora starts blathering about making Dr. Carl a marriage-worthy roast chicken, Tricia suddenly realizes who she is up against: Dear Mom, Nora's radio alter ego (emphasis on the ego). She starts gushing over Nora and suddenly Nora is all smiles. As Tricia wanders back to her day job Nora notices that Dr. Carl is completely fucking horrified at her behavior. She smiles broadly, crosses "Territorial Pissing" off of her To Do list, and excuses herself to go roast a chicken. Dr. Carl just can't help but smile as she leaves him in peace to sell some damn books.