So of course that was the moment my motherboard decided to do a short internal scan, throw up its hands, and screech, “Dear Lawd, a VAMPIRE has taken mah blood!” and initiate a general shutdown.

You got a problem?" he drawled, obviously expecting me to pee my pants before falling to the ground and groveling like an unworthy subject of the Emperor. And that was all it took. A new, screw-you attitude took precedence, trampling my fear under its boots. A highly dangerous approach, I still found it much easier to bear. "Well it all goes back to my childhood...." I began.

Hey, if you're going to price yourself, I say go high.

I'm sure it's nothing switching to a light beer won't cure.

Sometimes things would be so much simpler if you could just pull out your gun and shoot the bad guy. Reason number seventeen why Indiana Jones is my hero.

Do you even know what hammerd means?" I asked. "Something to do with drinking your American beer out of a hole in the side of a can?" Dave reached over and slapped him on the shin. "Close enough.

So... you're an assassin?" Dave asked incredulously. "Why do I feel like you'd have used the same tone if I'd just confessed to being a stripper?" I demanded. "Sorry," he said quickly. "I'm just surprised, is all.