First of all please allow me to reiterate how much I love you. I’ve told you before but I was really drunk at the time. Which was all your fault by the way. Who in the hell sells wine that cheap? And why would wine be 40 proof? Plus, when I told you that I loved you, you were high (as you usually are these days)…but I’m not here to nag, I’m here to bitch and complain.
Anywho, while I do love your beauty and appreciate your hospitality, there are a few things that are really beginning to piss me off about you.
Your taste in music really sucks ass. You have a few decent genres in your collection but rarely play them. You know how I love Spanish guitar and Flamenco but you insist on getting all wired up every night and blasting awful imitations of American pop (and no, Hasselhoff is not the ‘new Elvis’) and 80’s style rock ballads sung in a Spanish, Sinatra-like croak that leaves me wanting to dig out the remnants of my eardrums with a red-hot, kabob skewer.
Why are you so far away from America? Your selfish refusal to move closer makes it really hard and expensive for me to see my friends.
It bothers me that you look down on your South American cousin Mexico. I think that maybe you are a little bit racist. You have to get over being pissed at them for having sex with the Mayans. That was a long, long time ago. Do you think that the Mayans’ families were happy? I don’t want you to start throwing the paella bowl at my head again, so I won’t even bring up the whole rape/murder/torture of the inquisition thing, I’m just saying, ‘let it go.’
The way you produce weather is making me believe that you are either bi-polar or retarded. You go from freezing and snowing (a fact that you kept quiet until I was already moved in BTW) to the flaming furnace of hell, kind of hot all in one month. Did you not get the memo? There is this new and fabulous season called ‘spring,’ you should really try it sometime. All the cool kids are doing it.
You really have to do something about your old people too because they scare the living shit out of me. Every time I walk by them they grimace at me with toothless, open mouths. They hobble along on legs that must have been broken four times and never healed correctly. Why don’t you fix their legs Spain? Maybe buy them some dentures so when I look at them I don’t feel sad and uncomfortable and a little scared.
And if they can get everything fixed for free then why don’t they? What did you do to make them afraid of you Spain? If I find out that you smack around your elderly parents for their bingo money I’ll kick your ass.
Why does no one here know what Spanish Fly is or where to get it? Why did someone name it after you if nobody here even knows what it is?
I love your language but it’s too complicated. Why do inanimate objects have to be masculine or feminine? It’s like some kind of sick perversion with you. Not everything is about sex Spain; get your mind out of the baranco. And you should make your people speak like they do on the Berlitz. I can understand the Berlitz people.
Your people sound like they’ve just snorted an eight-ball and have a mouth full of tapas….which they probably have, that’s the whole problem. You are too much of a speed freak. You even got me hooked on your black, liquid crack.
I know that this is hard for you to hear but THE MULLET IS DEAD. It’s time to find a new style. Maybe step all the way into the 90’s with a fade with your initials…!
I really do hate to break it to you Spain, but your food is nowhere near as good as you think it is. You’re so quick to try and distance yourselves from your mariachi playing cousin but I’d kill a matador dead for some good Mexican right now. Nobody wants to eat your greasy, fatty, bristly pork or to have their fish frowning at them as they try in vain to plunge a knife through his rubbery abdomen. I’ll take a God damn chimichanga over a hot, greasy paella any day.
Or maybe you could jump into the latest health craze that’s been sweeping the globe for the last 50 years and mix in a fucking salad.
Also, you need to start treating your animals better.
And if you’re not a third world country then why don’t you have Eggo’s? HUH?
Oh, and start being nicer to Portugal, he’s your little brother and he looks up to you.
I hope you can take my constructive criticism on board and make some changes. I have to warn you though, if you go bankrupt and get all stupid and crazy like Greece did, our friendship is over and I’m leaving.
I woke up this morning to the sounds of the birds singing their sweet spring song! The sky is pure blue. The street cats are vocalizing their desperate need for sexual healing. The dogs are already openly fornicating all over the streets. I mean all over. The Peugeots and mopeds are being spit shined. The mullets are being coifed and waxed. The gypsies have had their opening day of knife fight season, and with a win for the home team. And the British Tourists will be complaining about the ‘oppressive heat’ any day now. That’s right baby, spring is finally in the air! This was by far the worst winter I’ve experienced since leaving the northeast. But I’ve made it out the other side without any pending criminal charges. Yay.
I’ll leave you with a few parting shots…..