My debit card. She is hacked.
Man! Screw you, online shopping. You really haven't made my life easier at all, now have you? Filing police reports is fun, and I can't wait to track down a copy of that report (for a fee), and head over to my local credit union branch, in the hopes that someday, Visa will deign to reimburse me. And canceling cards is super, right around the holidays. And also, Wal-Mart in Richmond, Texas? Maybe next time, you could strive to be less helpful. I doubt you could top yourselves, but at least try.
And you know what, you scum-sucking hacker? You go can straight to hell. Seriously, you robbed me. Shame on you. It's Christmas, you bitch.
So hey! If any of you are looking for any last-minute gift ideas for me, I have one. I'd like this hacker, who ROBBED me, right here tonight. I want him brought from his happy holiday slumber over there in Richmond, Texas with all the other hackers, and I want him brought right here, with a big ribbon on his head, and I want to look him straight in the eye and I want to tell him what a cheap, lying, no-good, rotten, four-flushing, low-life, snake-licking, dirt-eating, inbred, overstuffed, ignorant, blood-sucking, dog-kissing, brainless, dickless, hopeless, heartless, fat-ass, bug-eyed, stiff-legged, spotty-lipped, worm-headed sack of monkey shit he is! Hallelujah! Holy shit!
Where's the Tylenol?