V is for Vienn-detta

Disclaimer:: Beware. Be afraid. B'ware'n'fraid. That last one's actual Viennese German, aka scheisser Deutsch. The pictures you will see in this will ruin your evening. The blatant ugliness-ness is of such high quality that we've had to reassess our assessment that the Colorado Rocky Mountains are the most ugliest place in the world. It's THAT bad. So B'ware'n'fraid, friends. With that said, enjoy the sarcasm.

A statue looks up from the book it's been reading forever. Maybe it heard something. Chris doesn't hear anything. She doesn't see what the statues looking at. Probably another huge-ass building. Or another statue. Chris just doesn't get it. And why should she? Maybe there's nothing to get. Maybe Vienna's just an ugly, hateful little city full of overlarge buildings, not-cute-at-all lacy doilies, and cloyingly sweet espresso serviceware.

You like statues? We got statues! We also have lilies. We have lilies near statues. Look up, and to the right. Up, and to the right... a big freakin' building! Must be V-freakin'-enna. Thats Empress Elizabeth. She was white. So they made her statue white. And then Chris took a picture trying to make her statue darker, but it only made it whiter.

I want to make a statue. First I need a statue holder. Then I need a statue. But I don't want you to be able to get to the statue, so I make unbelievably green greenery grow in such a way that it makes it difficult to see and enjoy the statue. Then I building huge guard-buildings to protect my statue. See them looming. That's what I call clear body language.

A rose by any other name is still in Vienna.

I had a nightmare once. Then I had it again. I called it Vienna. It had thousands of churches with thousands of pipe organs, and each of those pipe organs told me, in confidence, that they would rip themselves from their fixtures and balconies and eat me as soon as I turned away to run. In Vienna, there are a lot of disappointed pipe organs, but I dare not turn my back.

Remember when you were a hot dog, but you were so ashamed that you hid in your bun? Yeah, that's the kind of day Vienna's having. Again.

Sometimes all you want to do is go up the stairs. Or, if you're already up them, go back down again. It happens all the time, night and day, in other places around the world. In Vienna, however, you can't tell if the stairs are real, if the doorways lead anywhere, or if the light coming from above is from Heaven, or if you're just upside down and it's the hole to Hell you're about to fall toward. Another day in paradise, I say!

Through the use of a specially designed Hipstamatic lens, we can clearly see that Vienna is hell. Also, the women don't seem to be overly concerned, and the horse statues are getting ready to ride.

How many overt references to male genitalia does a building have to have to exhibit in order to exceed the local limit? In Vienna, apparently, it's more than 5. On another note, I'm wouldn't be surprised if it was OK to skydive into Vienna, risking impalement or worse on any of the 250,000 churchy spires that rise into the sky above the city like so many death traps from one of those Indiana Jones movies.

All this wouldn't be so tragic, but we came across this today. This stuffed bunny drank itself into a stupor and froze overnight. Turns out it only take a bunny a half bottle of beer to drink itself into insensibility. So who was drinking with him, as he slowly faded away? And who left him to die on the cold streets of … wait a minute. Damn you, Vienna!!!!