Put that Juicy Juice down!!! Juicy Juice is for daughters who take their father's phone calls only. Do you think I'm fucking with you? I am not fucking with you. I'm here from Los Angeles. And I'm here to straighten you out. You call yourself a daughter, you thoughtless little pig? Do you know what your Uncle Stephen's getting for Christmas? Do you? A PlayStation 3. That's right. Your mother, she's getting a set of steak knives. Your present is… adoption. You get the picture? You're laughing now?

You got a phone. I paid good money for it. Pull it out and answer it. You can't answer the calls you're given, you can't answer shit? You ARE shit. Hit the bricks and beat it, Little Orphan Annie.

What? "The signal is weak?" Fucking signal's weak? You're weak. I've been in this network for fifteen months. "What's my area code?" FUCK YOU—that's my area code. You know why? 'Cause you call your friends on a Moto' RAZR, I call mine with a ruby-studded BlackBerry. That's my area code! And your area code is "Caller is not Available…" And you can't play in a daughter's game. Because only one thing counts in this family: Get them to push on the button which says "SEND." You fucking hear me?

"A-B-C." "A," always. "B," be. "C," charging. "Always Be Charging." Always. Be. Charging. You got a charger. Fucking use it. I know you do 'cause it's fuck or call. You hear my ringtone? "She Likes Me for Me" by Blessed Union of Souls? This ringtone cost more than your Heelys. I made Fun With Dick and Jane last year. What did you make? Do you know what it takes to be a daughter?

It takes brass balls to be a daughter.