To say I've had a bad day is to say the sea is moist, or the sky a bit up there, or the Pope possibly a very, very observant Episcopalian.
Any day that begins with the words, "What did I tell you yesterday? DON'T TOUCH MY PATIENTS!" and ends with the words, "Well, we think you might have glaucoma" is not a day to be cured with some sort of bullshit, meet-cute crap video for an annoying earworm of a song that never should've made it off of American Idol.
However, it does give me something to hate.
Ladies and germs, I give you: Toque-wearing, whining, meet-cute maestro, Daniel Whatsisfuck: