"Follow me! It's this way to the beach, kiddies!"
Sunday Sunday at the amusement park
See the fat kids spill their pop
Oh babe! Lots of flags and balloons
But someone sabotaged the roller coaster last night
Ran a turn and then it smashed right down
Through the crowded haunted house below
Oh no! Human hamburger, no.
And it's crushed little kids, crushed little kids
Crushed little kids adorn the boardwalk
See the tourists drop their jaws and cones
See the owners smell a big lawsuit
Oh Police! (call you lawyer first)
Make the witnesses go home
They'll turn on the t.v.
And see crushed little kids adorn the boardwalk
~ Dead Kennedys
Hey Kids! Now you can be a retard just like your Auntie Kage! Just follow this very simple step-by-step instruction guide to immediate hop-sitalization. Hooray!
Step One Gently cultivate some third degree burns from falling
asleep outside one sunny day, like the fucking moron you surely must be.
|Yes, those are my bare jahoobies. |
This isn't occupied Poland, if I want
to Page Three my tatas, I will. Deal with it, or get out.
Step Two End up in hop-sital because you have been found
legally too stupid to care for yourself.
Step Three Enjoy a bit of pampering to regain your strength...
Step Four Once well on your way to recovery, find new and obnoxious
ways to fuck with the people on your floor. The other patients, nurses, doctors, and defenseless octogenarians are an excellent place to start, but remember; it's your hop-sitalization. Be creative and have fun with it!
Well, I hope that helps. Now if you'll excuse me, I made a couple of new boyfriends tonight that I need to check on, make sure they're still alive. One I like to call Polski, on account of the fact that he's from....POLAND. Christ, people. Keep up. Anyhoo, Polski was sitting in the hop-sital corridor when I was doing a few plies and jetes at the nurse's station, waiting in vain to be acknowledged by a nurse before I turned to stone. I heard some hooting behind me and turned around to find Polski staring directly at my butt cheeks.
"I love dancing!" he told them.
I shook my butt cheeks a little and said in a high pitched voice, "So do we!"
"We should go dancing sometime!" he cried.
"Yes, that would be lovely," my butt cheeks agreed. "What kind of dancing do you like?"
From his padded chair behind me, he crossed his feeble arms over his chest, then huffed and kicked out one leg and then the other.
"Like the Hebrews!" he cried, forced to talk to my face now that I had sat down in the chair beside him.
Another octogenarian just a few feet away overheard this remark, and leaning heavily on his Zimmerframe, he shuffled the few steps over to us, finally arriving just before my 150th birthday.
He pointed a gnarled finger at us. "Now, you've got to be careful there," he began pedantically, and Polski and I looked up politely. "I used to teach languages, and it is not correct to call Jews Hebrews...."
I can't tell you what he said past that, cuz that's when I passed out from boredom. But it sounds like if both my sexy Lotharios live through the night, there is a good chance they'll be dueling for the right to my hand in marriage tomorrow! Or, in Polski's case, my butt cheeks.
Regardless, I had better go and wax my bikini line. Ciao.