The Lost Journals of Doogie Houser, M.D.

I actually remember watching that show quite a bit, and remember the scenes at the end of the show where he typed into his journal. I would’ve loved to have seen these come across his screen. Some examples:

November 17, 1989

Sometimes the best advice is in the last place you look, and by “best advice,” I mean, “my wristwatch.” And by “the last place you look,” I mean, “Mr. Cheswick’s esophagus.”

May 7, 1992

This week, I finally found myself. No, really. Vinnie and I split a sixty of Triple Sec and nine hours later I found myself sleeping in the bushes beside the Taco Bell, wearing nothing but a couple of napkins and a plastic sombrero.