I. Just. Gotta. Say it.

Dear You. Yes, you:

Please, next time you go to Spain, please spare me your reviews. It sickens me, time and time again, to work through 15 pages of your hideous writing style only to learn you did nothing but buy clothes, get drunk, bother people embarass humankind in general. I, for my part, hope you die before breeding.

And if you think I'm a grumpy bitch, well tough luck, I am. I am a bitch from hell and you are an idiot. At least, I knew what a kangaroo is. You didn't. That makes me the winner, I think.