What's up Vienna. We are all up in your fancy coffee shops, crayolas on the floor, kids crawling under tables all loud and sh**. Star Wars guys flying everywhere. ObiKenobi in your Sachertorte. Jawas in your java.
We are eating Wienerschnitzel every night, son. Beers the size of Big Gulps up in here.
We are all up in your palaces with grubby fingers and snot fangs. Shhh. . . don't tell the guards: I'm breaking all the rules just to take this pic. Stop touching the walls, son. They're made of gold yo.
Never should have let the petite bourgeoisie up in here. Only dudes named Leopold and Ferdinand should be allowed up in here. We are running past your statues all: whodaf*** is that? How many bronze Franzes can there be?
(We are in Vienna visiting family and seeing the sights; I'll write a less annoying post about it soon. But for now I'm on vacation, son).