Dear Mr. and Mrs. Drunk Suburbanite: How kind of you to join us at the annual Block Party for what I am sure also acts as your yearly dose of city culture. Mrs. Yuppie: Thank you for violently elbowing your way through the crowd and then drunkenly climbing onto your overgrown frat-dude of a boyfriend's shoulders. Thank you for blocking the view of the band for the majority of the people behind you, including myself. Thank you for showing off your thong cleavage, and thank you for showing most of Capitol Hill your saggy, over-sunned tits as you flashed the local band playing onstage. Thank you for blindly kicking me, hitting me in the face repeatedly with your Louis Vuitton backpack, and ignoring the half-dozen requests to dismount your sloppy fucktard of a boyfriend. But most of all, thank you for letting loose one of the loudest, juiciest, and smelliest farts inches from my face. I hope you, your boyfriend, and your ozone-depleting SUV fall off a cliff. Stay the fuck out of my city, you oozing cunt wart waste of humanity.