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Gypsy Lurv Letters

November 15, 2007

Dear Drunken Redneck,
Just because it has cleavage and works out here, does not mean it’s a wench.  Some of us are nobility, thank you very much.  I’m a gypsy princess.  The cute little four year old from last week-end said so, so it must be true.  And that 6’5″ Amazonian barbarian you’re gawking at?  She’s a princess too.  That hot chick with the white face paint?  That’s the Queen of France.  And my BossMom’s daughter.  What was that you said about her skirts again?  I didn’t think so.

No Lurv,
The Gypsy Princess

Dear Sir,
Get the hell off of my stump.  That is my own personal little stage for yelling insults at people, singing, and showing off my enormous… lungs.  You, on the other hand, are much too drunk to be teetering around on such a teensy platform.  Please do not die while in my gypsy camp.  It’s bad for business.

Lurv,
The Gypsy Hawker

Dear Idiot in Shop Next Door,
Please, for the love of all that is sanitary, stop blowing on that horn.  One, you’re not going to buy it anyways, and everyone within hearing distance knows it.  Two, you’re disrupting my reading, leaving me with no other option but to yell out the window about tortured cats.  Three, you’re doing it wrong, resulting in less of a battle cry and more of the Call of the North American Idiot.  Four, DO YOU KNOW HOW MANY PEOPLE’S LIPS HAVE TOUCHED THAT THING?  EWWWWWW.

No Lurv,
The Gypsy Sanitation Inspector

Dear Lost and Lonely,
Don’t make me smack you with the tarot deck.  The answer to “What do you want from your life?” is not “A man to love me and marry me.”  Quit living the life your mother thinks you should live.  Go get therapy.  Be willing to accept that your ex boyfriend was an abusive asshole whose only good contribution to your life was leaving you.  Quit looking for answers to your life from a $10 psychic in 2 tons of costuming and fake hair.

Lurv,
The Gypsy Lurv Doctor

Dear Teenage Twit,
If you want to drop out of school, that’s your business.  If you want to break off all contact with your mother, that’s also your business.  But when you go dashing off to mommy dear and lie to her about what GypsySister said to you, then it becomes our business.  There is no fortune teller in her right mind who would ever tell you to drop out of school.  And while we’re all nutty here, we’re certainly not nutty enough to pull a stunt like that.  If you’re looking to hurt your mom, you should tell her that you’re the one who wants to drop out of school instead of using one of us as the excuse.  I promise it’ll hurt Mommy Dearest a lot worse.

No Lurv,
The Other Gypsy Princess

Dear Utterly Blameless,
When I say “The cards say…” what I mean is “I think.”  So when I say “The cards say that you should take responsibility for your own actions” what I mean is “Suck it up and deal.  You screwed up, and now you have to live with it.  You’ve got no one else to blame but yourself, and endlessly asking the cards if such-and-such person is responsible for the suckage that is currently your life is a waste of your $10.  Get out.”

Lurv,
Not a Nice Gypsy

And to all smokers within range of my booth:  The correct answer to “Excuse me, sir?  I’m allergic to cigarettes, could you please smoke somewhere else?” isn’t any of the following –

1)  Well, I was here first.  (Yuh?  You think this gypsy wagon magically appeared out of nowhere?)
2)  So?  (So meet my BossMom.  She’d like you to meet her boot.)
3)  No.  (See above)
4)  *huffy sigh*  Fine.  Gawd, what a *insert curse here*.  (Dood.  Do not curse the gypsy.  She curses back.)

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