I hate those jerks who text while they're

I hate those jerks who text while they're waiting in line-- oh, hold on. It's my turn to place my Starbucks order.

I need a venti, seven pump, soy, no water chai. So anyway, these lines are like productivity centers. So long, you can answer about twenty emails before - hey! don't spit in my

Screen glass digitizer, this is a 4G. I don't care that she's 16 months old I am going to pull her hair. Now she's crying, maybe I'll take a picture of it with the phone.

And send it to the Enquirer for a butt load of cash. Brangie's kids crying at the hands of a Worlds of Warcraft master? Yeah TONS of cash! "Wonder what I could get for a shot of

Of Brangie themselves playing Magic the Gathering?", said Papa Razzi, as he loaded the sled for his yearly world tour. "I'm getting to old for this nonsense" the fat man in the red

sack replied. "It's not kidnapping if you're over 90 years old," I reminded him, "now can we do this the easy way, or the hard way?" I retrieved the jumper cables from my backpack.

"Now what on earth do you think you're going to do with those?" Grandpa said, incredulous as I hooked the cables up to the FutureCar. "I don't think a car made in the year 2069 is

compatible with those cables." But I wouldn't give up. I grabbed my trusty tool kit and told the old coot to search for signs of Uranium-235. I grabbed a cable and my tiniest tool

and ran the geiger counter over it. Holy shit, I was packin' some major radioactive junk. I grabbed it, lifted it, and shook it just to make sure it was all still there. Small as