"Angry Birds" Phone Ap Tears Family Apart

A Palm Beach Gardens man is planning to sue Finland-based Rovio Mobile, designer of the phone application Angry Birds.

Mark Malnick claims that Angry Birds was directly responsible for the destruction of his marriage and subsequent loss of custody of his children.

"A friend from work was playing it one day on break. He told me I could download it for free," said Malnick as he ran his fingers across the touch screen of his phone. "Before I knew it, I was slinging birds every chance I got. My wife asked me to stop during dinner one night, and I shouted at her. I'd never so much as raised my voice during our twelve years of marriage before that. I was stuck on this level where you've got to use one of the little yellow birds to demolish the base of the structure to kill all the pigs. They kept oinking at me."

Heidi Turner said she tried to be understanding about her ex-husband's obsession, but could not come to terms with it and had to leave.

"Mark had gone through phases before, with cars, or with golf, but never anything like this," a downcast Turner stated. "It just got worse and worse. He would promise to only play on weekends or after the kids went to bed, but then he'd be in the bathroom for hours and I'd walk by and hear chirping. One night I took his phone after we'd had a big argument about it, and he nearly broke the door off it's hinges. When I told him I had dropped his phone in the toilet, he stormed out of the house, pawned my grandmother's wedding ring and went to the Apple store. Ultimately, I had to do what was best for the children."

Malnick stood firm in his opinion that the game should never have been on the market. "What they did is just really despicable. It grabbed hold of me and wouldn't let go. I used to be different. I used to be a man of integrity, a man who meant the world to his kids. Sure, big tobacco is responsible for thousands of deaths a year, but you don't hear about people missing their kid's only base hit in the little league play-offs to smoke a cigarette," said Malnick.

"I haven't found a lawyer that will take my case yet, but when I do, it's over," said Malnick, not looking up from the 21st level of Angry Birds, Holiday Edition. "Will you look at this? They've got a freaking advent calendar for the thing! I stay up till midnight every night waiting for the next level to come out. What they're doing is worse than genocide."

Woman in Critical Condition after Toys"R"Us Brawl

A Palm Beach Gardens woman entered the hospital in critical condition Saturday after what is said to be the worst brawl in Christmas shopping history.

The fight erupted near the toddler section of Toys"R"Us Saturday afternoon when two mothers simultaneously grabbed the last Baby Alive on the shelf. The two began shouting obscenities, and it wasn't long before the situation became violent.

Sharon Hess was taken into custody by the Palm Beach County Sheriffs Department. Hess was unrepentant about putting her adversary, Claudia Hiles, in the hospital.

"I mean it was obvious that I was there first. You can ask anyone in the store. I'll be damned if anyone is going to stop my daughter from getting a baby doll with anything less than a complete digestive tract. I'm teaching her a lesson - that she does not want to get pregnant at sixteen. I don't care what MTV says," said Hess.

They were like animals," said Michelle Muller, who observed the incident from behind a stack of Pillow Pets. "They were all bared teeth and flailing arms. I saw one of the women grab the other by the throat and start choking her. Then they went to the floor. It took several employees to break up. The staff had to use cat litter to soak up all the blood. When my daughter asked me what all the red stuff was, I had to tell her that they got into a Kool-Aid fight."

Muller encourages mothers throughout the country to take precautionary measures before they go shopping. "I used to think it was safe. I used to think all I needed was a can of pepper spray and a rape whistle, but times have changed. My husband bought me an early Christmas present Sunday - a taser. I'd like to see someone try to grab my daughter's Sing-a-ma-Jig from my shopping cart when they've got 1,200 volts surging through their body.

Hiles was in critical condition Saturday, but doctors say she has stabilized and is expected to make a full recovery.

Sharon Hess being taken into custody

Parents Secretly Celebrate the Death of Family Pet

A local mother and father have admitted to secretly celebrating the death of the family's black lab, Cocoa, on Monday. Cocoa died of natural causes Monday morning.

"We adopted her thirteen years ago. She used to be so happy and full of life," said
Kim Reynolds, as she attempted to scrub a stain out of her living room carpet. "Toward the end though, she was anything but fun. She kind of just sat around
and whimpered. Every once in a while I'd come home to a pile of feces in front of the television. She really knew how to make the lady of the house feel special," said Mrs. Reynolds.



"I mean, the kids loved her, but they'd just as soon fall in love with a pet rock. A pet rock doesn't grow disgusting toenails or have to go outside every five minutes, or look up at you with big, brown, baleful eyes every time you try to eat dinner, or hump your friend's legs when they come over for cocktails," said Mrs. Reynolds.


Tom Reynolds was found dismantling the poorly constructed wire fence in the back yard. He shared in Mrs. Reynolds contempt for Cocoa. "Don't tell my kids this, but that little son of a bitch was the bane of my existence," said Mr. Reynolds, wiping sweat from his brow. "If I could have predicted the 3 grand in veterinary expenses I shelled out this year, I would have drugged him and buried him alive instead of holding a back yard funeral for my children."

Mr. Reynolds lamented over Cocoa's wake of destruction: "Have you ever had a pair of loafers that fit just right, that defined comfort, that were official enough for the office, but casual enough to wear around the house? Well, I have, and that flea bag tore them to pieces. I'll never find another pair like that one," he said with a sigh.



"The night Cocoa expired, Kim and I waited for the kids to go to bed and uncorked a bottle of wine we had been saving for our anniversary. We talked about our future, and how nice it will be not to have to use that damned lint roller every time we leave the house," said Mr. Reynolds.

Kim Reynolds said her children were at a loss for how to cope with Cocoa's death. "The kids are devastated. It's sad how young and naive they are. Some day when their carpet is covered in paw prints and their feather pillows lie disemboweled on the living room floor, innards strewn about the house like confetti, they will get it. Until then, they are going to have to settle for a fish tank."

Beardo

I haven't shaved in a little over a week. It started as a bet - one of my coworkers and I started a beard pool with a $20 buy in that would be judged at the end of the month, with points being awarded for style and originality. I have light hair, so right now you might see me from across the room and think, "Hey, that guy looks normal." As you draw closer, though, you will slowly realize the awful truth and think "Ew. Gross. A beard."

I don't understand why someone would grow facial hair if not to earn capital, so I decided to examine some of the popular facial hairstyles and do some research as to why they exist.

According to a caption just above this fine fellow, on this foreign website, "Facial hair help the men either to express or conceal their look just after being stimulated by their instincts." Hmmm, sounds very primal. It's no wonder neanderthals are believed to have been rocking the full beard.

According to Wikipedia, male facial hair is often culturally associated with wisdom and virility, while mustaches are often associated with sexual perversion, serial killers, and law enforcement officers. If you see a man with a beard, you should ask him a question, but if you see a man with a mustache, you should probably get your children away from him, or, if he is wearing aviator sunglasses, give him a donut.

Jeffrey Dahmer is known for dismembering people and refrigerating them. He is NOTORIOUS, though, for his mustache.

In some serious cases, mustaches have been known to multiply like cancer so that they grow down and around the mouth, forming what is known in popular culture as a "fu man chu." This facial hairstyle is typical of men who have been inbred, and may also result from over consumption of Natural Light and/or Natural Ice. Fu man chu wearing men are responsible for the existence of the majority of battered women's shelters throughout the US. Their most notable achievements can be read about in the Darwin Awards.

The last facial hairstyle I came across is known as the the "door knocker" or "Van Dyke" and is allegedly used to disguise a weak jawline or add the illusion of length to a round face. I understand why it's called a door knocker, because if anyone wearing one of these ever knocked on my door, they'd be knocking for a long time. It's a shame more Jehovah's Witnesses don't have them.

Keep on knocking





After all of my research, I've concluded that men grow facial hair to look wise, to attract sexual prey, to go with their aviators, to keep people from answering the door, and to scare their wives into submission.

I've decided to shave tomorrow.

Speeder's Luck

For some strange reason, cops have always loved me. Even though I spent the majority of my teens and young adult life breaking all kinds of laws and covenants, I never got in legal trouble for it. Besides that one time I went to jail in Texico, which you can read about in my book once it's finished.

Once, when I was living in Los Angeles, I pulled out of a gas station and made a spur of the moment U-turn. My tires screeched as I whipped around into the left lane. Then I rolled through a red light while turning right. That's when the lights came on behind me. The cop told me I was driving like I was in the Indy 500. I told him I was in a race against time to get to San Francisco. We laughed about it like a couple of old friends, and he told me to drive safely.

A couple of years ago I was at a 12-step conference in Stuart. One of my headlights was out, so I was reluctant to drive at night. Me and a couple of sleep-deprived friends decided that a trip to Denny's was inevitable at about 3 AM. I noticed a couple of squad cars sitting at the top of a bridge we were approaching, and warned my friends that we were about to be pulled over, but not to worry because police love me.

Whenever I get pulled over, I always pull into a parking lot of some sort. It's one of my little tricks. I think the cops like it. On this particular occasion I accidentally turned the wrong way down a one way street. Then, when I did make it to a parking lot, I parked in a handicapped space. My plan was backfiring. When the cop approached my window, he asked me if I had been drinking. The irony! I didn't pull out the "No, as a matter of fact I was just at a 12 step conference" card, because I know that even people with a BAC of .4 or higher still don't park in a handicapped space when they get pulled over. I just said "no."

After calling the entire Stuart police department so they could assemble and laugh at my parking space, the cop gave me a warning and drove away.

Just now, on the way home from a friends house, I was pulled over for going 58 in a 45. Whoops. After the cop ran my license, he came back to my window and told me he'd cut me a break and "just give me a seat belt ticket."

"But I was wearing my seat belt," I said, not realizing how indignant I sounded until I had already said it. Call me spoiled.

"Really, I could have sworn you weren't wearing it when you leaned over to get your registration. Look, I'm cutting you a break here. Maybe I did see it, maybe I didn't."

"Ohhh," I said, understanding what he meant. I feel like I just bribed him, without really having to bribe him. Maybe I bribed him with my pretty blue eyes.

I must be getting greedy, because I'm thinking about fighting this ticket. I did have my seat belt on, after all. I'm thirsty for justice, and this just doesn't sit right with me.

Grand Old Larceny

Recently, my boss decided to add a convicted felon to our ranks. Not that there's anything wrong with that.

He's a different breed, this one. He's tall and lanky, with an asymmetrical face and a belly that sticks out in front of him like a pregnancy simulator vest. There is a baby gate affixed to keep the office dog from bolting out the front door and into traffic when we get visitors. Instead of sliding it open like everyone else, he lifts one of his long, spindly legs into the air and steps over it, like he is trying to mount a horse. Then he steps over it with his other leg. I've seen him catch his foot in the lattice on more than one occasion and almost go sprawling onto the tile.

We've started calling him lurky because of his tendency to lurk around the parking lot while he fights with someone on the phone.

While I was in Iowa a couple weeks ago, our office manager texted me his mugshot. Allegedly, she had been performing an impromptu background check. Coincidentally, our operations manager found a $20 bill at the very moment and was asking if anyone lost it. "I did!" said lurky, at the same instant she read the words "grand larceny."

When she told our boss, he responded that our office was "the land of second chances."

Our little jailbird doesn't know that any of us have caught wind of his past. One of my guilty pleasures is making him sweat.

"Does anyone know what happened to my Monster?" Dan said a couple days ago.
"No, I think we've got a thief here," I told him.

Today I had to send a certified letter to an ex-roommate's parents threatening to sue them because he stole a bunch of money from me a while ago.

"He got in trouble for GRAND LARCENY just last September because some lady let him watch her house and he pawned all her jewelry," I said, standing behind lurky's chair.

"Oh man!" he said, feigning ignorance.

I don't know why I get such sick pleasure out of tormenting him. I guess it's part of a last ditch effort to maintain my sanity in the work place.

Maybe next we will hire a registered sex offender. Then the fun will really start.