What the Hell Happened?

I just returned from picking up my lunch and I'm all bitchy. So, if you want to know about my New Year's, you're going to have to wait until I've finished with the following round of bullshit.

Dear Idiots With Cameras,

I understand that maybe you're from out of town. I understand that you'd like to take home a picture of the new art museum. However, I don't think you understand that there are several feet of snow on the ground, and I don't think you really understand the best place to stand while focusing your lens. So, let me enlighten you, you peabrained gawking fucktard. I feel it safe to assume that you come from a place that is no stranger to sidewalks and foot traffic, considering that the camera you're holding is probably worth several hundreds of dollars. While trying to snap a photo of the awesome architecture so often derided by native Denver-ites, the ideal place to stand is NOT, I repeat, NOT in the exact center of the narrow footpath that leads through the mounds of dirty ice up to the crosswalk. And the time, my cerebrally bankrupt friend, is NOT, I repeat, NOT when the little glowing dude on the electric sign lights up. You see, the only place, unless your fellow pedestrians want to walk a block out of their way, to cross the street is right, exactly, WHERE YOU'RE FUCKING STANDING ASSHOLE!!

And right over here, it looks like you've got some buddies. They seem to think that it's a good idea to stare vacantly at the huge stone "sculptures" in front of the museum entrance. Of course, the large artificial rocks were meant to be stared at. However, in the middle of the intersection of footpaths is really NOT THE IDEAL FUCKING PLACE!!!

Therefore, in retaliation for your incredible lack of tact and consideration, I call upon the cursed blood of my Gypsy ancestors and I call upon the goddess Nemesis of my Greek foremothers to reign the following retribution down upon you:

May you suddenly find yourself standing in the African wilderness, between a freshly slain wildabeast and a pack of ravenous hyena. And after your entrails have been released from your midsection, and you lay there, still concious, while the beasts chew on your intestines, may a herd of elephants trample your lower half. And while you remain, still somehow acutely aware of your pain, may a colony of army ants chew their way through your face before you lose consiousness.

Yours Always,

Neko