My favorite fantasy line when I see a phonetard weaving all over the highway is "If I get my hands on you, you will need a proctologist to ever use that phone again."
@JustaJeepGuy- I believe in Emergency Rooms, the standard excuse for objects marooned in the rectum is "I was walking around naked and accidentally fell on it." Which is especially questionable if the object in question is a Louisville Slugger.
@M. Mitchell Marmel- Oh sure, it starts with beans in the ears, then a banana, and eventually bowling pins up the poop chute. Addiction is a terrible thing.
@Kent Whitehead- You can hardly hear "You're it!" over the screams.
@Snark- Remember to put on your latex gloves first!
@TrickyRicky- I've seen some terrifying stuff out there when people blow by or weave wildly while looking at their phones. Like you, it raises a primal rage in me. And although I usually bark "engage photon torpedoes," I have yet to be able to blow one of those assholes out of the galaxy.
7 comments:
I don't want to know how the phone got there. Not at all.
But the "talking out your a$$" joke is too easy, too.
"Beans in your ears was too easy, huh?"
When telephone tag goes horribly wrong.
I see far too many people who need to keep their phone there. Some I'd like to help do it
My favorite fantasy line when I see a phonetard weaving all over the highway is "If I get my hands on you, you will need a proctologist to ever use that phone again."
@JustaJeepGuy- I believe in Emergency Rooms, the standard excuse for objects marooned in the rectum is "I was walking around naked and accidentally fell on it." Which is especially questionable if the object in question is a Louisville Slugger.
@M. Mitchell Marmel- Oh sure, it starts with beans in the ears, then a banana, and eventually bowling pins up the poop chute. Addiction is a terrible thing.
@Kent Whitehead- You can hardly hear "You're it!" over the screams.
@Snark- Remember to put on your latex gloves first!
@TrickyRicky- I've seen some terrifying stuff out there when people blow by or weave wildly while looking at their phones. Like you, it raises a primal rage in me. And although I usually bark "engage photon torpedoes," I have yet to be able to blow one of those assholes out of the galaxy.
@Stilton: I commend "Why Johnny Can't Speed" by Alan Dean Foster (1971) to your attention... ;-)
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