Greater CONcENTRATION!!!

Psychiatrist: What’s wrong Working Boy?
Working Boy: Why do you ask?
P: Because you pay me to.
W.B: I see.
P: So what’s wrong.
W.B: I’m horribly depressed Doctor.
P: Don’t call me doctor.
W.B: Why?
P: It’s just a technicality, continue.
W.B: I’ve been horribly depressed. I can’t eat past 11 p.m. Whiskey just tates like sweet candy instead of sweet, sweet candy. And, I’m reading that book again.
P: Which one?
W.B: The one that makes me want to kill myself.
P: I don’t remember such a book.
W.B: are you kidding? That’s why i started coming to you in the first place.
P: Oh sure right, right. Of course I remeber. Continue...
W.B: Well, I thought I could handle this time. You know, fuck all and just enjoy the jokes about large bottoms and Presbyterians.
P: And...
W.B: they were pretty funny.
P: Was that enough?
W.B: It was until I got to the crippled half-brother. I’m a sucker for invalids.
P: Who isn’t?
W.B: I started crying like it was a Wednesday at 8:00.
P: What happens at 8 o’clock on Wednesday?
W.B: Top Model ends.
P: I see.
W.B: Yeah, I love that show. Renee is such a bitch.
P: I’m a Jael man myself.
W.B: Who isn’t? She’s so authentic.
P: Athentically hot!
P: and W.B: Booya!
......

W.B: So, what were we talking about again?
P: Bottoms and Presbyterians.
W.B: Oh yeah, so I don’t think i know any Presbyterians actually. I woke up a pile of garbage the other day and this dog was licking my face and I thought to myself: Do you even know any Presbyterians?
P: This is very serious.
W.B: Tell me about it. What would I do if one of them came up to me on the street and started talking all about stocks and bonds and life insurance? I mean, geez, where do they even come from?
P: I think Nova Scotia.

.......

W.B: Anyway. I think we were really talking about something else.
P: You mean your horrible depression?
W.B: my horrible depression?
P: Oh, yes it’s quite severe in fact.
W.B: Huh, sounds serious.
P: It is. Do you want some advice?
W.B: Isn’t that what I pay you for?
P: Um, technically you pay me to fill up your car with gas, which I’m doing right now.
W.B: I see. Well, you’re really going above and beyond.
P: I wouldn’t trade these 125 dollar 5 minute sessions for the world.
W.B: Neither would I....Or would I?
P: No you wouldn’t.
W.B: You’re the boss, chief.

........

P: So have you tried talking to your wife about the dpression and anti-Presbyterianism?
W.B: No she’s always too busy with all her friends and co-workers.
P: How about your friends?
W.B: What friends? All I’ve got is like 25 friends.
P: What about An Doof Ass? He loves to hear the sound of his own voice pontificating on subjects he's shoe horned into otherwise enjoyable conversations.
W.B: Are you kidding? He’s all about scotch and eating fancy seafood meals in large groups of mixed company like some big shot.
P: That sounds like your kind of bag.
W.B: Yeah, except I only like those things when he’s down in the gutter. My greatest joy was calling and talking about my dinner on the 65th floor of the Stock Exchange while he’s drinking Vermouth and eating Kraft Singles. The bastard’s taken joy away from me. Him and the repo agencies.
P: He doesn’t sound like a very good friend.
W.B: The worst kind, always trying to move up. That son of bitch. The next time I see him, I’ll slip a little gin into his peaty highland single malt and then we’ll see whose all cultivated and east coast.

.........

P: Well I think you should go back to reading books by Jews. You love that stuff and all it does is make you want things you can’t possibly afford.
W.B: It’s true. I didn’t even know what Hermes was until I read that one book written by a Jew.
P: There you go. And when you’re not reading silly, horrible books, do you think about it?
W.B: I guess not.
P: And how many times have you thought about Hermes ties in the last 5 minutes.
W.B: I'd say about 13 times.
P: Sounds to me like you’re troubling yourself over nothing.
W.B: Yeah, I guess you’re right. I don’t care about various moviegoing individuals or their terrible existence! I care about kirmans!
P: And where did you find out about kirmans?
W.B: From that book written by that Jewish fellow whose name escapes me!
P: I think my work here is done.
W.B: I don’t know what I’d do without you.
P: You’d wither away and die.
W.B: That’s bad.
P: Yes indeed. You can never quit seeing me.
W.B: You’re the boss, chief!
P: So do you want a new pine tree air freshener for the road?
W.B: Um, how much?
P: 10 dollars.
W.B: I don’t know...
P: 15. It’s made in Italy.
W.B: I’ll take 3!