Wednesday, February 21, 2007
Vienna Sausage
Far be it for me to make fun of short bus riding Austrian exchange students, but Dieter’s choad-like mesh shirt requires a fair amount of pixelated venom served up like a steaming Bratwurst.
It’s not the hair highlights. Okay, yes it is the hair highlights. But it’s not the wire rimmed glasses, the chin ant colony or the fact his boobs are perkier than his cutie’s. Okay, yes, it’s all of those things too. But it’s that shirt. Not since the Ottoman empire has chainmail so perfectly captured douchitude. Because everyone knows of all the occupying armies of Vienna, the Ottomans were the douchiest.
Hottie’s going to crack the V6 vertibrae if she leans any furher back from Gunter’s oily presence. Her Ringstrasse’s stadt makes me happy.
