Ben Franklin in "Mrs. Doubtfire"

All right, fine!

I shall admit it

I have been dressing as Lucy Adams
John Adams' long-deceased grandmother
So that I could continue my friendships
With you revolutionists
While still maintaining my relationship with my friends in England

Over there, I'm jolly old Ben
And here, I'm wise Grandma Lucy
Who loves her new country
And her precocious grandchildren even more

John, I guess I've hurt you most of all by doing this
You thought your grandmother was alive and well
When actually, she died of malaria
Ten years ago

Although this wig is made of her actual hair

I spared no expense
When it came to my ruse!

But I couldn't let it go on any further
Hancock, please hold my fraudulent breasts
At my age and weight, I don't really need them
But it helps my pride to think I do

John, I had to stop pretending
Because I can't let you marry Betsy Ross
She doesn't have good intentions
When it comes to the Revolution

Nobody could love this Revolution like I do!

Oh yes, I do enjoy my friends in England
But liberty is my greatest joy!

That's why I threw that teapot at her head

I'm sure when she comes around in a few days
She'll be very cross with me
But I couldn't help myself!

I hope you'll all forgive me

Just remember that I'm still that saucy old grandmother you loved
Just inside my heart, and without the undergarments

Although I will continue to wear the stockings
They do such wonderful things for my legs

When you're ready to accept my apology
I'll be out flying a kite

Don't take too long
It looks like it's about to rain
And I don't want my make-up to run

A Date to the Party

So you're coming to the party?

That's so great!

Dean, honestly, I am just so happy
That we can be friends
Even though we're not dating anymore

When my sister broke up with her boyfriend
She went all crazy
As soon as she found out he was seeing another girl

Can you believe someone can be that ridiculous?
I'm going to be totally fine with it once you start dating someone else

So do you--

What?

Oh

Oh

Oh

Wow

So (soon?)--great!

Wow, good for you!

That's...I'm just...wow

Well, great!

Maybe we can talk more about it at the party
So are you making that salsa that you--

Bring?

Bring to the--?

Oh, sure!

Sure, absolutely

Of course you can bring--

You can bring as many people as you want, actually
Bring twenty people!
Just remember to make more salsa!

Hahaha

Oh, just--

Well that's fine too!

Hmm?

Oh I wasn't planning on...uh, maybe...but, probably...maybe--

I just didn't think it was the place
For me to bring a date
Since I knew you'd be there
And I didn't want to crush your heart into a thousand pieces
By making you watch me walk around all night
With another man on my arm

But I guess I don't have to worry about that anymore!

You know, there are going to be so many people at this party
And it's going to be so loud
I'm just not sure bringing a date to it
Would be any fun, you know, for the date

It's going to be a regular heavy metal concert in that apartment!

Well, yes, I realize that my Nana's turning seventy-eight
But the elderly can get quite raucous once they past the age
Where they're supposed to die

Nana keeps talking about thrilled she is to see you
You remember how she made plans for our wedding
And our first child
And our second child
And how we were going to get all that money when she died
Because she didn't want to leave it to my spinster sister
Who, by the way, turned twenty-seven the other day

I sure hope Nana seeing you with someone else
Doesn't make that weak little heart of hers just collapse

I mean, I'll be fine with it
I'm already fine with it
I'd say let's all do a double date
As soon as I find someone who isn't scared of a woman who speaks her mind
And has reasonably sized breasts
But that might take awhile
Since all men are DEGENERATE ASSHOLES!

. . . . .

Well, it's been great talking to you
See you at six
Bye!

Write a Letter to the Tiger

Do me a favor, boss

Write a letter to the tiger

Tell it how sorry you are

Explain to it how you transgressed

Go into detail about your mother
And your father
And their failure
And your brother dying
When you were five years old

See if the tiger will shed any tears for you

See if it decides it's not that hungry today

See if its teeth aren't as sharp as you thought

Who knew?  you might say

The tiger's really not that bad

Confess to the tiger, unburden yourself

Maybe it'll feel bad for you

Try to imagine it feels compassion
The tiger, I mean
The tiger

When you write out the letter
Make sure you delve into
The guilt and bereavement you feel

Sit down, go ahead
Sit down right now
And write a letter to the tiger

See if the tiger can forgive

Because if the tiger lets you go
Well then who knows
Who might forgive you then

Emo Boy at Gamestop

Um, do you have any games where
I could fight a tyrannical regime
Bent on bringing nuclear power
To a poor village in the Andes?

Is there a special add-on where my avatar
Can make his own protest signs
With different fonts
And colors?

Do you have a game where I can slap Nickelback across the face?

I don't necessarily need there to be
A competitive element to it
I just really want to slap Nickelback
Across the face

All your games are so violent

Do you have any games that preach tolerance?

Like, is there a game called 'Final Fantasy:  Learning How to Feel Compassion?'

That should be a game

Is this just a football game?
Why not just play football?
Why not experience the world?

I mean, I hate football
Because it promotes violence and mysogyny
But I mean, simulated violence and mysogyny is probably just as bad
I would think

Do you encourage violence and misogyny here?
Do you have any games where degrading women
And beating up homosexuals gets you, like, a ton of points?

Huh?  What's this?

'Grand Theft Auto:  Slap Dem Ho's and Beat Dem Queers?'

I just felt my soul write a sad poem
When he's done editing it
I'll let you read it

Ugh, I gotta go

I'm meeting my friends at this protest
In front of Banana Republic

It turns out Banana Republic
Is really a Banana dictatorship of greed and corruption

I'll be back though
I'm kinda interested in that Grand Theft Auto game

Just for sociological research purposes, of course

The Unexpected Night Out

Malcolm, it was totally unexpected

I found a spot
And I took it

No, I didn't need it

I had just dropped Jen off
At the movies
And I was going through downtown
And there was this perfect spot
Right in front of Stacey's

Well, I had it to take it

Malcolm, when is there ever a spot in front of Stacey's?
When have either of us ever gotten a spot in front of Stacey's?
That is prime parking, Malcolm
I couldn't pass that up

That's like a Buy-One-Get-Nine-Free sale on tomato sauce
You may not exactly need nine jars of tomato sauce
But a deal is a deal

So I parked my car and figured I'd walk around downtown
For an hour or so

I was going to call you
But then I got waved into this restaurant
By this woman named Diana
Who apparently thought I was her friend, Patty
And when she found out I wasn't
She remembered that she had forgotten to invite Patty
And so she offered to let me stay and have dinner with her
And we had such a nice time
That before I knew it
We were at the Oyster Bar
On Stynton Street
Getting hit on by...

...nobody...

Malcolm, it was wonderful

Before I knew it
It was four am

Thank God Jen's friend Cara's mother
Was picking them up
From the movies

Oh yes, the car...well...

Apparently that spot was open
Because parking in front of Stacey's
Is now illegal 

Something about a fire hydrant--Oops!  Haha...

They towed the car
But I did get a ride home from Diana
And that's when you heard me sneaking in this morning

Oh, and that's Diana on the couch

I'm sure the car is somewhere safe
At some impound lot
Or something like that

We can go get it after breakfast

Oh don't look so upset, Malcolm

It was an adventure
I suppose not so much for you
Since you weren't the one having it

But trust me
It was well worth the trouble

Sigmund Freud in "Superbad"

Zis is not how I planned on spending my Zaturday night
And I am majorly pizzed off about it

Michael Cera, vhy do you keep tvitching?
It is annoying to me
And everyone around you

Perhaps it is becawse you were touched when you were younger
By an amorous Jeffrey Tambor
Or a less amorous Portia de Rossi

Am I hitting ze nail on de head?

And you, Jonah Hill
Do you think you may be eating your feelings
Because ze girls vould rather have sexual intercourse
With Michael Cera
Despite the fact zat he is a large, menstruating bit of genitalia?

We cannot hide out in this bush forever
Vhile the bumbling policemen try to find us

Eventually we have to confront our demons
And try to star in a dramatic picture
So that we may be eligible for an award
That isn't given out by MTV

Michael Cera, you were in Juno?

I thought that was Jesse Eisenberg

Were you the one in He's Just Not That Into You?

Ah yes, that was Justin Long

You're all the same person anyway
So it really doesn't matter

Vill you two stop panicking?

Ve're being chased down by Seth Rogen
He vouldn't be able to find us
Unless we were covered in tvinkie cream and hashish

Then again, perhaps Michael Cera is covered in tvinkie cream
Clearly he has depraved sexual appetites
That have only heightened since filming a movie vith Jack Black

Stop calling me McSigmund!
I have no idea vhat you are talking about
But I do not like it

Eh, screw this

I'm going to see if I can jump into another Judd Apatow movie
Perhaps one where I get to make love to a voman who would never touch me in real life
Because I'm a fat slob with poor hygiene

Maybe I'll see if Funny People is available

This would be so much easier if I had a couch

Anya's Masterpiece

She wrote it when she was twenty-three
And nobody ever let her forget it

Twenty-three

Everyone found it remarkable
That a twenty-three year old girl
Could write four hundred pages
Of sheer perfection

What she always wanted to tell them
Was that it is far more likely
That a twenty-three year old
Would take on four hundred pages
With such abandon
And succeed at it

When you're forty-six
You're busy worrying about what you did
When you were twenty-three
And how you're going to do better

Essentially you're up against someone younger
With more energy, less expectation
And no daughter's wedding to plan

Anya was planning her daughter's wedding
And trying to finish The Book

The Book in big letters
Because every book is The Book
Until it is published
And autographed
And read from
And shelved
And then there is a New Book
And The Book becomes The Last Book

Anya is getting lunch with her daughter
So they can discuss the wedding reception
And the cake, and the photos
And the dress
But not--The Book

'How's the book coming, Mom?'

And yet...

'It's almost done.  Now, Stephanie, can you explain to me why I'm paying to have the entire bridal party participate in a fire walking ceremony?'

It was amazing how long money could last

Anya was essentially still living
Off her masterpiece money

Oh, there had been other books
And other book deals
And teaching engagements
And other such things

But the masterpiece money
Had been the big payday

Especially when she sold the film rights

It took them seventeen years to make the movie
And by that time, they had optioned it four times
And each time, a little more money went into Anya's pocket
Money she didn't feel she deserved
Since she hadn't done anything to the book
At that point, she simply owned it

'Don't be ridiculous,' her husband Trevor would say to her, 'You wrote it.'

But by the time she hit thirty
She didn't feel as if that was the case anymore

It felt as if someone else had written it
A braver, bolder person than herself

Between the masterpiece and the last twenty-three years
She'd written six novels
And a play that hadn't gone anywhere

Each of the six novels all featured the same words
Underneath the title

'By the author of The Last River'

She found herself becoming more critical of the book
The way she would criticize one of her student's pieces

What does the The Last River mean anyway?

She knew what it meant, obviously
She had written the book
It was a metaphor for life
As all things were
When you're twenty-three

But what would someone just looking at that title for the first time think?

They would think the author was a pretentious, young snot

And they wouldn't be far off

Anya kept asking why the words underneath the title couldn't be
'By the author of--'
Whatever the previous book had been
But she was met with resistance

'Write another classic, and then we'll talk,' they'd say

Well, they wouldn't say
They'd never have the gall to come out and say that
Instead they'd say--

'It's your best-known work.  Be proud of it!'

But it was essentially the same thing

When Anya asked her daughter if she'd ever read the book
Stephanie had said she had
And Anya was more than a little surprised

Her daughter was not an avid reader
And Anya found herself a bit terrified
At the thought that her daughter had now taken in
Her mother's success
Like a cup of coffee
Free to judge it at will

But she put on the expected smile
And said--

'Well, what did you think?'

She hoped that her tone was jovial enough
She wanted to imply that whatever her daughter thought was fine
Because after all, you weren't expected to love your mother's work
If anything, you might hate it because it was written by your mother

Still, she wanted Stephanie to like it
She wanted to know that at least some part of her was impressive
To somebody so close to her

'What do you mean what did I think,' Stephanie asked, 'It's your book.'
'Yes,' Anya said, 'But I mean, did you like it?'

Stephanie seemed puzzled by this question

'Mom,' she said, 'It's a masterpiece.'

Anya was pleased, but then displeased
It was as she had suspected
Her book was beyond reproach

There was no more liking it or not liking it
Debating it or arguing about it
It had reached the point of objectivity

It was good

It was a good book

And somehow that made it far less exciting
Than it had been when she first wrote it

'Well,' Anya said, 'That's nice.'

Every now and again
There would be a list
That would feature her book

Best Books of the Past Thirty Years
The Century, Best Books Written by Women
Best American Books

And she'd be asked to comment
On something she hadn't even glanced at
In fifteen years

She'd usually say the standard 'The Book changed my life and I'm very grateful'

But secretly she wanted to say--

'These lists are crack for nostalgia addicts.'

Because that is what she believed

Just once she wanted someone to ask her what she was working on now--NOW

Someone had even suggested that she write a sequel
To The Last River

'Considering that the word "last" is in the title,' she said, 'I don't see how that would be fair.'

Trevor had read the book
But fiction wasn't something he enjoyed

He liked documentaries on Imperialism
And trips to places where there was mass amounts of suffering
This is what she got for marrying a liberal journalist

What she appreciated about Trevor
Was that he had married her before the masterpiece
When they were both still in school
And all of their professors let them skip class on Monday
So they could have a long weekend for their honeymoon

Anya remembered overhearing some of the professors saying
That Trevor would be the breadwinner in the marriage
While she fiddled around with her writing
Like a good little housewife

Now there's a wing in the English department named after her
And some of those same professors
Walk by her name every day

The best revenge really isn't living well
It's letting everybody know how well you're living

Lunch with Stephanie is over
Decisions have been made
More money will be spent
The wedding is four months away
And The Book will be finished sometime after that

Anya has decided to put it on hold
Until after all the craziness is over

...Or maybe she'll just scrap the whole thing

Maybe she'll quit writing
And disappear, like Salinger

Or start writing short stories
Take a new direction
Dust off that old play
And see if she can make a life for herself in the theater

She does this every time The Book is about to close
She questions why she isn't excited about it
Like she was about the first book

But the first book was The First Book she tells herself

Is that why no other book has felt that way?

She arrived home to find Trevor sleeping on the couch
While a nine-hour miniseries on Africa
Played on the television in front of him

He'd be going there the week before the wedding
To do a piece on political tensions
In one of the countries

She and Stephanie had joked
That he was probably secretly hoping to be taken hostage
So he could skip the entire ceremony

Anya went into her office
Closed the door
Opened her laptop
And looked at the first page of The Book

The cursor clicked at her
As if it were scolding her

'You don't like this, do you?' it seemed to be asking

She opened a new document
And stared at the white space

Then she typed--

'I wrote my first book when I was twenty-three and nobody ever let me forget it.'

It wasn't the best first sentence
She'd ever written

In a way, it didn't sound like her at all

Maybe that's what got her
To keep writing

Thomas Jefferson in "Forgetting Sarah Marshall"

Woe is me
I cannot write this declaration
Of our independence

For I have been left
By the most beautiful girl in the world

And not just any girl
But the girl who played the supremely awesome character
Veronica Mars, in the appropriately titled television program "Veronica Mars"

Sarah Marshall has left me
For Russell Brandt

A Brit, and a dirty one at that

How can this be?

No, no, Hamilton
Please do not try consoling me
For my heart is a pen with no ink
A wig with no powder
A whore with no syphilis

In other words, it is a sad heart

How shall I ever meet another woman
Who can stir my heart so?

Ah yes, Mila Kunis...

A lovely girl...

And such a nice complexion...

But she is no Sarah

Can she solve a crime, churn butter, and unlace a corset at the same time?

Of course she can't

That's the sign
Of a real woman

To the Guy at the Bar

To the guy at the bar
Who won't look at me

I know you're not looking at me
Because you want me to notice you
Not looking at me

Well, I've noticed

Have you noticed me
Looking at you
Waiting to see if you'll grow a pair
And make eye contact?

Are you under the impression
That I'm somehow turned on
By being ignored

If that's what you're thinking
Than maybe you should look for dates
In the waiting room
Of a therapist's office

This is a bar
This is a place where people come
For social interaction

I notice you checking out that little number
Behind the bar

Are you aware the bartender is half your age?
Are you aware that though you may have more money
At this point in your life
And more prestige
That age and apperance
Still play a factor
In sexual chemistry?

Or maybe you still think you're hot
Well, here's a pleasant surprise for you
You're hot...for your age

Not for half your age
That's the bad news

Do you ever plan on talking to your friend
Or did you just bring him here
So that at the end of the night
You could go home alone
Without really going home alone
Saying to yourself--

'It's cool.  I wasn't looking to get laid anyway.  I just wanted a nice night out with a friend.'

When people want nice nights out with their friends
They go to a movie
And to some poorly lit bar
Where they have no chance of getting lucky

They do not come to a crowded bar
Where you can't even hear yourself think

Your friend isn't very attractive
I'm sure that wasn't planned either, right?

I'm guessing tonight has not been a good night
From the number of drinks
I've seen you toss back
In the past hour

That last one must have given you the confidence you needed
Because now you're making eye contact with me

You're ready to walk over
And say 'Hello'

Great

I can't wait for you to hear
What I have to say

Eleanor Roosevelt in "Dreamgirls"

Ladies, ladies, please
Let us not fight amongst ourselves!

Perhaps I have put on some weight
And yes, I have been a bit temperamental
Because of my current condition, and--

No, Deena, don't be silly
Of course I'm not pregnant
I'm just a lesbian

A lesbian, Deena
I enjoy women

No, not you, Deena
I don't enjoy you
You are having sexual relations with my husband, after all

No, I'm not talking about Curtis
I'm talking about Franklin

Don't think I didn't notice you
Sneaking around the White House
At all hours of the night
When we did our Christmas concert there

I would have said something
But I was on vocal rest at the time

None of this has anything to do with me being kicked out of the group

I refuse to be tossed aside
Like some Senator's wife

I'm the First Lady, and the lead singer
And if I have to choose
Then Franklin's going to be wheeling himself around the Smithsonian from now on
Because my passion is my singing

...And my gardening...

...But mostly the singing

And I am informing you that I have no intention of exiting

What?

You'd like me to sing that?

Absolutely not

I don't know about you, girls
But Mrs. Roosevelt does not sing
Unless she's getting paid

The New York Dream

I wake up on a subway
With my head in your lap
You're looking down at me
Like I've done something fantastic
Just by opening my eyes

We get cheesecake to take home
We have a little dog named Toad
We have a kitchen bigger than the rest of our apartment
We have pans hanging down
We seem to be so happy

There's a boy I know you like
And I know that boy's not me
But here we watching black and white tv
On a faded purple couch
Not mentioning a thing

We make plans to see your mom
And to stop off at my dad's
We interlock our fingers
I kiss the spots where we are joined

Did we run away?
Is that what happened?
It's always fun to try and figure out
The logic of a dream

But I've had this one so many times
Now for me, it's like drinking tea
And reading the newspaper
On a Sunday morning

Here's the part where I see our wedding
At a country club somewhere
You whispered something in my ear
And I quietly start to laugh

Here's the sink flooding the flood
As we try stopping it up with pages
From the phonebook

Here's us adopting Toad
Here's a trip to Central Park
Here's eighteen candy stores
Here's a lifetime worth of us
Stuck inside one dream

I don't like waking up from this one
But I know the signs that it's ending
The color goes first
Which isn't so bad
Because then we look like we're in an old
Black and white movie

But then Ted disappears
And then the pans
And the kitchen
And the view from our apartment

The last thing I see
Is your face
Looking down at me

I wake up
Where I always wake up

And when he asks me
What it was this time

I say--

'Oh, you know...'

Already beginning my day in reality

'...It was just my New York Dream'

Dick Cheney in "Auntie Mame"

Patrick, why do you keep talking so much
About the rights of the oppressed?

Of course the oppressed have rights
But so do I
So do you
So does Miss Charles!

Vera, you tree-hugging lush!
Get the hell off that sofa!
That's an antique
I had one of our guys
Steal that out of the palace!

Patrick, I might have to have your Auntie Vera tortured

I don't want to do it, Patrick

Well, actually that's a lie
I do want to do it
That's why I'm going to do it
Because you can't spend your whole life
Worrying about little things like foreign policy
And proper diplomacy

Life is a banquet
And you gotta make sure
You get to the dessert before everybody else does
Otherwise you'll end up eating sugar cookies
Like a sad fat lady on a diet

When you first came here
I was so happy to have a son...

...That I could send off to military school

And when you came back three weeks ago
I was thrilled that I would finally be able
To share all of my beliefs and values with you

But now you stand before me
Talking about love and peace
And conservation!

For a second I thought you were talking about being a conservative
But then you stuck this 'Save the Badgers' pin on me
And now I'm totally confused

What happened to you at the Houston Inter-Pre-Planning Intel Environment House?

What do you mean a mix-up?

Well, where did I send you?

The Hippie House?

That's impossible, how could I--

Oh no...

I abbreviated, didn't I?

DAMMIT!

Patrick, listen to me

You've been brainwashed
And the only way to fix brainwashing
Is with more brainwashing

I'm just going to have to torture all that love and kindness right out of you

Vera!  Get me a burlap sack and a harsh light!

I gotta save my nephew

Don't worry, kid
Uncle Dickie's going to set you right

When I Gave You The Truth

When I gave you the truth
You gave it back to me

You didn't want it
You didn't like the look of it
You didn't trust it
You didn't touch it
You didn't tell me it was good

You didn't say--'This is great.  Thank you for this.'

You judged it
You were upset
Because it wasn't what you wanted
But you never appreciated it
For what it was

It was the truth

And you used to say all these other guys
Never gave you the truth

But what did you do
When somebody finally did?

You stepped back
You lunged backwards, actually
You shook your head at it
And you told me 'No'

Did you think it was going to be easier?
Did you think it was going to look prettier?
Did you think it was easier for me to say it?
For me to tell you?
For me to assume that you were telling the truth
When you said it was what you wanted?

What could I have done to make it better
Without changing what it was?

Did I love her?
Do I still love her?
Does it matter?

Why did you think it wouldn't hurt?

Did being lied to seem worse?

You might not want to hear this
But I have a sneaking suspicion
That I should have lied

When you didn't know
When you were, essentially
Being lied to anyway
You seemed so much happier

When I gave you the truth
You didn't want it

So what am I supposed to give you now?

Henry VIII in "Kramer vs. Kramer"

Do you mean to tell me
That I have finally secured an heir
To the kingdom of York
Albeit the New York
And I may lose him
To his MOTHER?

What sort of devil mischief is this?
Where women have say in their child's upbringing
And older women flash their stockings at young men to seduce them
As if their sexuality hadn't fallen out of their womanly parts
Upon turning the decrepit age of twenty-four

That's a reference to my performance in 'The Graduate'
And tis neither here nor there at the moment

Give me the boy!

I must begin raising him to loathe any religion
That was not specifically created by him

And to behead any woman
That does not produce a suitable heir for him
Regardless of whether or not she is adept at foreign accents
Or creating chemistry with that human sharpei Clint Eastwood
Or singing ABBA without a touch or irony

His mother must be killed!

Preferably in front of him
Even more preferably by him

I've bought him a new axe
With his name on the handle

She has a right to see him?

SHE ABANDONED HIM!

And for no reason!

I could see if he was crippled
Or stuttered
Or perhaps was born with red hair

Then I would not only approve of her leaving him
I would suggest to her that we put him in a sack
With whatever lame kittens had been born that day
And throw the whole mess into the River of East

Does she not know the hell she has put me through
By forcing me to raise that boy on my own?

Child-rearing is not for a man
We are not given breasts from God by which to suckle
We are not given patience from God by which to listen to incessant crying
We are not given a demon uterus which tells us the secrets of womanhood
Such as how to sing a lullaby or cook a ham

I am furious at her and demand her skull on a pike!

But first see if she'll have another child with me

A woman who can produce a good man
Is hard to find

Tommy's Love Mix

Why don't you...make yourself...comfortable?

I'm going to put on a little music
And see if I can't
Get us in the right mood

Now, why don't we--

What's that?

You don't enjoy Queen?

Surely, you jest

They happen to be one of the finest--

Oh, well

I suppose 'Fat Bottomed Girls'
Is a bit much
For the first song on a love mix

I'll go to the next track

So what do you do for a--

I'm sorry, what's wrong?

Are you not a fan of the Notorious B.I.G.
May he R.I.P?

Usually the women I bring back here
Start undressing immediately
The moment they hear--

Well, I wouldn't say lots of women
Woman
Women
Woman
Women
It's all the same, really
Let's not quibble over numbers
Let's just find a song
We can both enjoy

Ah yes, nothing says romance like the Prince of Darkness
And his Sunshine Band

I'm sure Mr. KC knows just how to pull your heartstrings, am I right?

While I put on my boogie shoes
Perhaps you could take off your boogie blouse
And we could--

Wait, where are you going?

I haven't finished seducing you yet!

We haven't even reached the ZZ Top medley!

Well, at least I learned something from this
Always open with the ZZ Top

Lily's Here from London

Lily's here from London
But only for the day

Being here, for her
Is like staring directly
Into the sun

She can only do it
For so long
Before parts of her
Start to hurt
And burn

Why don't we all go to London?
--She says

Why don't we quit our jobs and go to London?
Why don't we realize that everybody in the world needs to live in London
And if they're not, they're wasting away
And squandering their lives

Lily is the Iceman
And she cometh
Every two years

Or when somebody dies
But nobody's died in awhile
Not since John's father
So it's been two years

And now it's John's birthday
And Lily's in from London
And isn't that nice?

She's got stories from London
And presents from London
And pictures from London
And guilt from London
And a haircut from London
And, and, and, and--from London

She wears London clothes
And has started slowly sneaking
A bit of an accent into her speech
Hoping we won't notice
Knowing full well that we will
And that mockery and insults will ensue
And who knows?

Maybe it'll be three years before she returns again
Instead of two

Maybe the time in between
Will begin
To grow longer
Without us even noticing

And one day we'll say
Wasn't there a Lily once?

Didn't we know a Lily?

Lily is now from London
Not from here
And when someone at the bar
Asks her if she's from here
She takes a solid five minutes
Answering a simple question
With a complicated response

Yes, she's FROM here but she LIVES in London and it's been SO LONG that she feels like she's FROM London and actually feels NO connection to HERE-AT-ALL.

Got that?

We do
After all
We're from here
Not London

We're her 'here' friends
She has new friends now

London friends
Who are much smarter
And cooler
And more clever than we are

And we feel like asking her
If her new friends have to hear as much about us
As we have to hear about them

But we don't
Because she's here
So let's be pleasant

Besides, we already know the answer

We stay nice because
She flew in from London, after all
And it's a long flight
And she must be tired
And she means well
And she's Lily, you know?

She's Lily

She used to weigh three hundred pounds
Half of it sadness, but heavy all the same

She wrote poems on her hands
And liked boys with no names

She never smiled
She never told stories
She never embraced

And now we can see
That she thinks it was 'here'
It was this, this place
That made her that way

And we are a part of that place
We were responsible somehow
For that old Lily

And all of her pain
And all of her hurt
That was all us
Because we were here

Here is the problem
And we are here
And so we are the problem

Her new friends don't know
About the old Lily
And they probably never will

They get the lovely American girl
Who reads paperbacks in coffeeshops
And wears big funny hats

They hear very little about her time back home
And when she's gone for a week
She'll just say she had a cold

We are that cold
We are that lie

We're tucked away
In another part of her mind

Some of us miss her
And some of us...

Well

We're really just glad she's here
We're really just glad she's safe
We're happy she's finally able to smile
And whatever it took
To make that happen
Is fine
Is fine, by us

Lily's here from London
Didn't you hear?
Didn't you hear?

Better see her now
Because she won't be here
Much longer

Cody on the West Side

Cody lives on the West Side
With two people he knows
And three people he doesn't

Cody lives in a room
That's supposed to be a dining room
And so he's always hungry

It's the ghosts of hunger
Taking him over

He works at a restaurant a block from his house
When he works
And when he doesn't work
He rides his bike downtown
And over to the East Side
Where he looks at houses like the one his dad lives in
Up in Syracuse

He doesn't work a lot
He doesn't talk a lot
He doesn't get in anybody's way

When his dad kicked him out
He took a bus to Providence
Meaning to keep on going
Straight down to Miami
But some guy on the bus
Took off with his bag
And all the cash along with it

So Cody wound up on the West Side
Talking to some girl who wanted to fuck him
And said he could spend the night

One night was more than what the streets were offering
So he shacked up with her
Even though her manner was less than enticing
And the next day her roommates said he could stay

Three years later and he's still here
The girl moved out about a month after Cody stopped fucking her
And he stayed on and found he was much happier
To have even less expected of him than already was

He always has enough money
Not enough to do anything, go anywhere
Buy anything

But enough to live

He could work more
But he'd rather not

He'd rather not work
And be free to ride his bike
And close his eyes
And pretend he's still by the lake in New York

It's not that he doesn't like Providence
It's that he misses riding his bike by the lake
And diving off it right into the water
Going from riding to swimming
Then running out again
With his girlfriend laughing at him
Her still standing on the trail
With her helmet on

He wonders how old the kid is now

The math should be easy
But math was never his best subject
And time is something
He has trouble holding

It disappears into his hands
Like the water in the lake

He misses the lake in the winter
When he wouldn't be able to go in it anyway
Which is the funny part

He misses it when he doesn't ride his bike
And walks to the restaurant instead
Pushing the cold in front of him back, back, back
Losing, because it gets down his throat
And incubates in his stomach

In the summer, he can ride his bike
And close his eyes
Going down the hills of the East Side
Hearing his girlfriend
Hearing his girlfriend laugh at him
Hearing his girlfriend tell him
Hearing her say she was going away

And his father found out
And the bus left at three
And when his phone rang halfway there
He threw it in a trash can
At a rest stop in Kennedy Plaza

He wasn't interested in being apologized to

It could have been her
It could have been his dad
It could have been one of his friends
Asking why he wasn't at the restaurant he worked at up there
For his Friday night shift

It could have been a lot of things

Cody lives on the West Side
Where he reads
And drinks water
And showers
And draws
And dances every now and again
When his roommates have people over
And play bad music in the living room

And he doesn't have a next step right now

He just knows he has to push, push, push
Until whatever he's pushing
Gives up

Trisha's Eight Mistakes

1.  I should not have eaten that cake today.  I told myself not to.  I ate a carrot.  I felt fine.  Three o'clock rolled around.  I ate the cake.  I ate half the cake.  Because, once I ate one slice, it was like, what the hell?  Eat more.  You're already a ruined woman.  So there went half the cake.  Then Clyde came into the staff room and saw half the cake gone, and I looked at him and said--'Better eat the rest of this before Carrie comes back in.'  I blamed Carrie with the thyroid problem.  I'm an awful person.

2.  I dyed my hair brown.  I kept saying 'I could have brown hair.  I could have brown hair.'  I talked myself into it.  Now I look like a heroin addict.  Me with blonde hair?  Lovely.  Me with brown hair?  Track marks and ugly sofas.  And I was going to dye it red after I dyed it brown.  I had a whole dyeing mission planned over the course of the year.  That would have been mistake number three.  Clyde came into the staff room today and saw me with this giant hat on from this Halloween party I went to last year where I went as Maggie Smith.  'My hairdresser is autistic,' I said, 'High functioning, but, you know.'  I'm an awful person.

3.  I had sex with Rory.  His name is Rory.  Rory.  Ugh.  I was lonely.  I had just watched 'Notting Hill' and I was lonely and Rory sort of looks like Hugh Grant if Hugh Grant weren't at all attractive in any way, so I texted him, and then he texted me, and...Ugh...I actually had to ask.  I had to ask him to come over.  And he sort of didn't want to because it was late, so then I had to...promise things...that I'd...do things...and so he came over, and it was terrible, and then he spent the night, and I woke up next to him, and he told me that brown hair looks like shit, and I told him his dick shouldn't even considered a dick, it should be considered a nipple, because that's closer to what it is, and he left in a huff, and I realized I was running late, and I had to go to work wearing the same clothes I wore the night before because I didn't have time to pick out an outfit, and when Clyde came into the staff room today and saw me I said--'My mother died last night.'  I'm an awful person.

4.  I bought my nephew pornography.  He wanted this book, and his mother said he couldn't have it, and I thought she was being a fascist--I mean, the kid is fifteen and for his birthday he wants a book.  She should be thrilled, right?  Who cares if they sell it in the Adult Fiction section of Barnes and Noble?  It's just Adult Fiction.  It wasn't wrapped in brown paper.  So I buy him the book thinking I'm just being Naughty Aunt Trisha, and that giving things to children that their parents don't want them to have is the purpose of aunts and grandmothers, but apparently my sister wasn't being a fascist--for the first time in her life--and the book is this incredibly torrid novel which, in graphic detail, depicts a wild sex orgy that takes place over weeks.  There are pictures in the book--lots of pictures--taken by the author during an ACTUAL wild sex orgy--and Barnes and Noble keeps this in regular Adult Fiction because it won the National Book Award but high schoolers are reading it because one of the pictures shows a woman getting...uh...anyway, it was mortifying when my nephew opened up that book at his birthday party, and my sister loses her mind immediately, and tries grabbing it from him, but she only manages to grab half of it, and the book pulls apart--apparently, it's very poorly made--and so pages go flying everywhere, and one lands on my mother--who is not dead, despite what I told Clyde--and that happens to be the page with the photo on it of the woman getting...uh...and my mother passed out.  The next day, in the staff room, when Clyde saw me writing an apology note to my sister, I said--'I ran over her dog.'  I'm an awful person.

5.  I peed in my neighbor's yard.  I got locked out of my house, and I really had to pee, and I was convinced he was at work, and I would have peed in my yard, but then I would have had to sterilize my yard because I'm a germophobe, and I know urine is sterilizing, but it's still urine, and I'm convinced my neighbor's not a germophobe, because he has huge patches of dirt in his yard, which no germophobe would have, so what does he care if I pee in his yard especially if he doesn't know about it except it turns out that he was sick that day with food poisoning from the strudel I baked for the block party, and there he is, vomiting in the privacy of his bathroom, when he lifts his head up, and sees me, hunched over, with my dress pulled up, urinating in his yard on one of his dirt patches, right next to his daughter's Princess House.  When Clyde came into the staff room today and saw me looking at real estate listings, I said--'I just found out I live down the street from a child molester.'  I'm an awful person.

6.  I was determined to remake the strudel and get it right.  I gave it to my sister as a peace offering.  She's been throwing up ever since.  When Clyde walked into the staff room and saw me shredding the recipe, I said--'My mother used to make this.'  I'm an awful person.

7.  I bought myself a necklace that costs more than my car.  Some company just sent me a new credit card in the mail.  They sent me a letter too.  It said something like--'We've noticed that all your other cards are maxed out and you haven't been making payments, so here's another card to reward your bad behavior and ensure that you'll be homeless in a year.'  I was holding that card in my sweaty little hand when I saw the necklace and it looked just like the one Audrey Hepburn wears in 'Breakfast at Tiffany's' and I just found out that I gained five pounds but not in my neck so I could still wear the necklace and I don't have a boyfriend and Rory told me he got some girl pregnant and my sister's not speaking to me and my neighbor wants me to pay to have his entire lawn dug up because apparently he IS a germophobe and that's why he doesn't have grass because he says grass can hide bugs that can carry germs and my mother keeps talking about that woman getting--UGH--and my nephew turned out to be gay anyway!  WHY CAN'T I JUST HAVE A NICE NECKLACE?  ...Oh right, because it was so expensive, that the gift with purchase is a laptop.  When Clyde saw me wearing the necklace in the staff room, I said--'I found it in a dumpster.'  I'm an awful person.

8.  Clyde walked into the staff room and saw me writing out this list.  I said--'What the hell are you looking at?  Do you ever work?  You're always in this damn staff room staring at me.  Why do gay men always think they can butt into every woman's life?'  It turns out he wanted to ask me out on a date.  I'm an awful person.

Everybody Gets You Wrong

Everybody thinks you're math
They look for the equal sign
And assume that when they get beyond
Those parallel bars
They'll finally get you right

They plug in different numbers
They say different things
They write all kinds of poems
They tell you stories
They tell you lies
They tell you truths they think will unlock you

You're a door to a vault to a secret
To a place
To a perfection
That they can't imagine

You're a mirror
They can see themselves in
And they like what they see

You're a present where the wrapping
Can't be taken off

A toy that's worth more
When it's left in the box

A flashback to a memory
That never actually happened

They draw pictures of you
Using too many blues
And not enough red
Or black

They call you parade and picnic
And party and paradise
And none of them know your name

They kiss you and tell you
That it's great
That it's wonderful
That it's right

But you know, don't you?

You know

That everybody
Gets you
Wrong

Sola's Next Step

You wait for the bus
The train
The train out of the city
The train into the water
The last train
The best train
The train that looks like it's yours

Or you wait for the bus
In the terminal
Or the plane
In the terminal
Or the donkey that will lead you
Through the hills of Italy or Greece
Where you can discover ancient European wisdom
And fall in love with a handsome European man
Who speaks no English
But makes love in such a way
That you would not mind marrying him
And bearing his children

You will go off in brown pants
And come back in dresses of red and blue

You will discover make-up and dancing
Brilliant food made of cream and exotic spices
Views of the ocean
Views of the sea
Views of houses that house people
Who don't worry about their paychecks
Or their personal lives

You will be Sola for once
And embody your beautiful name
Even if nobody knows what it means

You will unpack your luggage
And throw most of it away

You will learn to farm and whistle

You will find more inside yourself
Than the cumulative total
Of everything you have bought
And borrowed from the world

You will ride a train to paradise
And choose to go even further

This will be your next step, Sola

The bus
The train
The plane
The plan

It's all just a means to make you feel
Like you're going somewhere
You had the power to go to
All along

Your Friggin' Report Card

Bennnyyyyyyyy!!!

I'm looking at your friggin' report card
And guess what I'm not seeing, Benny?

'A's, Benny, 'A's

No, not gays!

Why would a report card be gay?

Oh, you're being funny?

Is that what you're doing in class instead of learning?

Apparently, Benny, apparently

You got a C- in Physics

What's so hard about physics?

The world is big
The sun is hot
Triangles have three sides

Bing bang boom, physics

You got a B in Spanish
And you work at Taco Bell
That make any sense to you, Benny?

What's worse is you got a B- in English
So you're doing better with a language you don't speak
Than the one you do

I don't understand, Benny

Noun
Verb
Adjectverb

Bing bang boom, English

Then we come to Algebra II

A 'D,' Benny, a 'D'

Why don't I just wear that around
Like the scarlet letter

My son gets 'D's in things
Because I'm a bad friggin' mother apparently
Who let him watch all those Gumby Bear shows
Instead of Reading Rainbow
Like I know I shoulda

Ohhh, but you got an 'A' in gym

Let's hope you can find a college
That'll let you major in monkey bars, Benny
Maybe you can minor in freeze tag

You friggin' kid, you make my insides go up my throat

The what?  The school dance?

With this report card?

Benny, are you out of your friggin'--

Eh, you know what?  You only live once
Unless you're Indian
Then they let you come back and do it again
But the rest of us just gotta live while we can

So go to the friggin' dance
Don't try grinding on any girls though
I don't want you coming home
Smelling like a pancake factory

That's what those girls smell like
Don't tell me, Benny
A mother knows

Now go get dressed
I'll drive you
And you're gonna study English on the way there

I'm going to say things to you
And you're going to tell me
Why I'm talking English

Oh, look at you getting all excited
I friggin' love you, you little delinquent

What the hell do teachers know anyway?
They all hated me
And I finish the crossword puzzle in the Enquirer every week

So there ya go

When It Shouldn't Be This Warm

They saw the body
When they were eating their bacon

The face down frame
Covered in blue parka
And patches of white

They called the police
The police came
The body disappeared

They finished their breakfast

It was a girl
It was a young girl
It was her stepfather, probably
He said 'No,' but it probably was
And he would go to prison
And things would be normal

They did not know the girl
They did not know the stepfather
They did not know the family

He dumped her where he dumped her
Because a cop pulled him over for a broken taillight
And meanwhile, she was probably in the backseat
Already beginning to decompose
Because he had to wait for her mother to go to sleep
Telling her the girl was at a sleepover
And then sneak her out

He'd been heading for the lake
But when the cop pulled him over
Despite the fact that he only gave him a warning
And was even pretty friendly about it
He panicked and dumped her right in front of their house
Figuring the snow wouldn't melt as soon as it did

A couple more storms comin'
She might not be seen again until April
And by then he'd planned on being long gone

But one warm day is enough to melt snow
And so there she was

That was the story
They read in the newspaper
And ultimately the body
And the story
Had nothing to do with them

Their names weren't even mentioned
And for this they were glad

Somebody, some reporter
Had tried calling about an intervew
But they pretended not to speak English
And so he gave up

It was a small paper he was calling from
And they probably couldn't afford a translator

Nobody cared about the people in the house anyway

Hell, the people in the house didn't even really care
About the people in the house

They went to bed and had no dreams
They woke up and got up and didn't have trouble
With doing any of the above

They made love a week later
Maybe a bit later than they should have
Or perhaps a bit sooner

But it was nice, and fine
And nothing out of the ordinary
And they were relieved
Because that's a marker to indicate normalcy

We have made love
We have had sex
We have fucked

Things are okay again

But then she painted the living room
And he wanted to know why
And she said 'Because'
And he wondered

Then he bought a new car
And she wanted to know why
And he said 'You painted the living room'
And she said 'Okay'
But she wondered

There were two vacations
Planned immediately
And the vacations would happen soon
And there would be little time between them
And a third vacation was even discussed

And they wondered

But nothing was said about the lack of interest they felt
In any movie with violence in it

Nothing was said about the fact that the mail now had to be delivered to their door
Not to the mailbox which was only a few feet from where she was found

Nothing was said about the fact
That neither one of them was eating bacon anymore

And there wasn't any fighting

There wasn't any fighting
Until she opened the doors and the windows

He said it was too soon
To be opening doors and windows

He said it was still cold outside
Whereas she countered that it should be cold outside
But that it was actually unseasonably warm

"I don't care," he said, "It's still winter.  You don't go opening up the doors and windows in the middle of winter."
"But I'm hot," she said.
"Then wear less clothing," he replied.

And somehow she took that to mean something sexual
And yet her response was to walk around in her underwear for a day
As if that could somehow be spiteful to him

And yet it was spiteful
And yet he was warm too
But he pushed through it

At night, she'd be sleeping naked on top of the blankets that covered their bed
While he was underneath all the blankets in pajamas
Sweating like a guilty man in a hothouse
Determined to make winter be what it was supposed to be
When it shouldn't be this warm

Sixteen years from now
They'll separate

Because sometimes it takes sixteen years
To convince yourself
That the thing that's broken you apart
Was not the issue

That the body was not the issue
That the sight of it blooming from the snow
Was not the issue

That the heat isn't hot
That the sex isn't stale
That the living room doesn't need to be painted

They'll give it sixteen years
And call it change

And every once in awhile
After they've remarried
And had many, many more vacations

They'll tell their friends the story of the body
And when their friends say--

'Was that what broke you up?'

They'll shake their heads adamantly and say--

'No, no, no'

No, no, no

'That had nothing to do with it.'

I Can't Wait to Die Alone

My sister, she says
She makes some comment, you know
About me, about how I'm going to die alone

She makes this comment
Because I'm not in my twenties
And I'm still having great sex

And she, she got married at twenty-eight
Convinced that good sex stops at thirty
And so by then you'd better be married

And I would have let her go on thinking this
Had she not been so vocal about the fact
That I was going to wind up dead and alone

So finally I just said, 'You know what?  I can't wait to die alone.'

I said--

'I can't wait to wake up every day
And not have to worry
About my obligations
To the person next to me

I can't wait to buy the cookies I like
And the soda I like
And watch the movies I like

I can't wait to go out with my friends
Without having to say I have to get back at such and such a time
Because otherwise I'll be waking someone up

I can't wait to have sex when I'm forty
I hear it's wonderful

And ultimately, we all die alone
So before that we might as well
Surround ourselves
With as much love as possible'

My sister didn't have an answer for that
But then again, I'm not sure there is one anyway

Can't Drink With You No More

Hey T, I got some bad news

I can't drink with you no more

If you want I can keep coming around
Although I'm not advised to do so

I can sip a soda
And play with the water stains
On top of the bar

But not right away
Not until I get my head on a little bit straighter

I'm sorry about your wife, T
And I'm sorry about your kids
And I'm sorry that I got in that fight with you last week

This isn't about that fight

Well, it is and it isn't

See after last week, I wasn't interested in having any more fights
So I dragged myself over to my friend Pat's house
And he's been sober going on about six years

I fell on his couch and we watched La Dolce Vita
And I felt like I was on acid
Not drunk, so far past drunk
And I talked about myself

And I never talk about myself, you know?
I talk, and I talk about shit
But not really about myself
Like you would to a shrink or whatever

And the more I talked
The more I listened to myself
And the more I listened
The more I realized what the hell I was saying

And I kept thinking that I just...

I kept thinking I didn't want to come here anymore, T

But, you know
We're friends

And they tell me--

They tell me a lot of things

But I say 'T was there when my son was born'
'T found me the car I'm driving'
'T puts me in taxis then catches the next one'

So I can come here
Or you can meet me somewhere
And you can drink, and I can sit
Or we can both just sit

Just sit, you know

But I'll still show up
I just can't drink with you no more

But that's all that'll change
I promise, T
That'll be it

I'd Rather Have Your Candy

I could take your money
But I'd rather have your candy

I could take your bullshit
But I'd rather have your licorice

I could try to get to know you
But I'd rather steal your gummy bears

I could dance around you
But I'd rather fleece your Reese pieces

I could fuck your brains out
But I'd rather have your mints

I could make you wait for it
But I'd rather share your M&M's

I could be your soulmate
But I'd rather try your pop rocks

I could sell you drugs
But instead I'll sell you sugar

I could stop the presses
But I'd like to see your twix

I could call you names
But I'd rather drink your Kool-aid

I could be your baby
But I'd rather have your candy

Jesse and the Straight Guy

Jesse loves the straight guy
Which isn't healthy
And he knows
He knows it isn't healthy

He eats, sleeps, and breathes 'it isn't healthy'
It's become his mantra

The reminder that somehow
He let the one thing that can't happen happen
Has become what he tells himself
As if it will somehow make it go away

'It isn't healthy'

And yet it is solid
It is so solid
That the weight of it
Has turned into a couch in his living room

He can sit on it
And resent it
At the same time

His fantasies are progressed beyond sexual
And that's how he knows he's in trouble

When you are fantasizing about a straight guy
Going food shopping with you
You know you're in trouble

He finds himself snapping at girls
Any girl, no girl in particular
Because they can have the straight guy
And many of them don't have the straight guy
And he snaps at them despite the fact
That almost all of them don't even know the straight guy

'Paper or plastic?'
'You have no idea how amazing he is!'

It would sort of be like that
If people said 'Paper or plastic' anymore?

He dreads the idea of the straight guy marrying
The way some may dread the thought of death
Or having to process tax returns from two different states
Without any help from an accountant

He feels the love starting to slip away
And then the straight guy mentions going camping together
And he loves camping, and the straight guy loves camping
And what is 'gay' and 'straight' anyway
But labels that shouldn't be adhered to
And why can't he just--

Oh right, because if he were to talk the straight guy into a relationship
But one that did not include sex
They would pretty much have exactly what they have now
Which is, clearly, unsatisfactory

Still, he thinks about it

And he thinks about resting his head against the straight guy's shoulder
At some independent movie house
Where they would spend a Sunday afternoon

He thinks about the straight guy making him coffee in the morning
And the two of them reading the newspaper together
Trading sections and summarizing articles for each other

He thinks about the straight guy while he's alone in bed
Because somewhere the straight guy is alone is bed
And somehow it all just seems so...unnecessary

What in my brain, he thinks
What in my brain makes this happen?

What part of my brain is determined
To make me miserable?

What part of me pushes away reasonable happiness
In favor of elusive happiness?

Why am I doing this to myself?

Jesse and the straight guy go camping
And the straight guy teaches Jesse fishing methods
And fire-making methods
And bird calling methods
And Jesse is thrilled and morbidly depressed
The entire time

And then the straight guy takes him down to the lake
Where they watch a sun close its eyes
For the night

Jesse puts his hand down
And the straight guy puts his hand down
On Jesse's hand

And maybe it's intentional
And maybe it's not
And no, it doesn't mean that
But it does mean that the straight guy is aware
That in that moment
Jesse needs a hand on top of his

And they sit, the two of them
Watching the night arrive
With the understanding
That it will not stay for long

Holly Golightly at Airport Security

Oh my dear man, I don't have the faintest idea what you're talking about

WHY can't I bring Cat along with me on the plane?

I simply couldn't put him in a carrier
He'd hate it

Besides, wouldn't it do the passengers good
To see a lovely cat
Roaming around the plane
Having a lovely time?

I dare say he has a better disposition than you do

You can't possibly be upset about the gun I was carrying

That was an antique given to me by a distinguished gentleman
In lieu of...well, we spent some time together
And he wanted to give me a present

He was a hunter you know
Wanted to give me a boar's head
But it looked so dreadful
And anyway, I wouldn't have anywhere to put it

I don't like guns
But the world isn't like it used to be

Why, a girl can't walk the deserted streets of the city
At six in the morning
Wearing a diamond necklace
Without worrying that someone's going to rob her

Oh, my dear man, I always carry knives around with me
Otherwise I might be served a steak that I'll be unable to eat
You wouldn't expect me to try cutting it up using a spoon, would you?

And I need various knives
Because I have no idea what sort of steak they're going to serve me

A big steak, a small steak, a tough steak, a fatty steak

So I need to be prepared!

The what?

Oh, that's not a real bomb

It's just a prop bomb

I worked on a movie for a few days
And when they wouldn't pay me
I took the bomb in protest
And I've had it with me ever since

Sir, I would hope that in your line of work
You could tell the difference
Between a fraudulent bomb
And the real thing!

If you just bring me the bomb, I can show you

When you hit the detonate button
It plays 'Moon River'

My dear man, do you plan on keeping me here much longer?

I have an appointment in Paris
That I absolutely cannot miss

Well, can I at least use the powder room?

Thank you, sir
I'll be right back

By the way, the powder room does have a fairly large window in it, I assume?

Wonderful

It's so nice to know some things never change

When We Were Nineteen

When we were nineteen
We made the right mistakes
Rather than the wrong mistakes
You make when it's too late to make them

We used to use bungee cords
To pull ourselves back
Into reality

We ballroom dance around each other
Mentioning each other's taboo topics
And wondering if we're pushing
The right buttons

This one is red
This one is rare
This one is too soon, too much
Too fast

And everyone's bright
And everyone's quick
And everyone's got their own ideas

When we were nineteen
We were so mean to each other
For absolutely no reason
And our skins could weather the storms

We'd break up our thoughts
And break up our minds
And break up each other every night
Just to keep our dreams intact

First we'd start a fight
Then we'd start to screw
And pretty soon we were screwing up
Everything

Nothing
Could break
Nothing
Could hurt
Nothing
Could make us change our minds

We were sixteen
We were thirty-three
We were a hundred
And twelve and nine

Santa was real
And bills weren't real
Reality tv wasn't real
And our parents weren't real
But music was real
And stray dogs were real
And jobs weren't real
But being broke was real

We used to go to the mall
And play tag with each other

We used to go roam the East Side
Like tourists in our own hometown

We used to hold hands just 'cause we were friends
And lay next to each other
And be there for each other
And not care about where
The next meal was coming from

When we were nineteen
We didn't know fatigue
We didn't know deceit
We didn't know enough to be cynical

And now we're not nineteen
We're all sorts of not nineteen

And when we dance we crash into ourselves

We like the finer things
That nineteen couldn't bring

And we look back we say
'I don't remember'

Why don't we remember
Why don't we remember nineteen?

Ira Glass Hosts an Adult Entertainment Radio Program

Welcome to This American Lust.

I'm Ira Glass.  Today on our program:  Sordid Sins.  Stories of indiscretions done indiscreetly.

Our story today in five acts.

Act One:  "Pride Goeth Before the Balls"

A story of a women who finds love in the African jungle when she comes across a missionary/lion tamer, who has long been aching for the touch of the fairer sex.

Narrated by David Rakoff.

Act Two, and when we arrive at Act Two of our program, I'll say--Act Two:  "Envy and Ivory"

Two sisters fight over the same blind pianist, who turns out to see them better than they can see themselves seeing him...seeing them...all too clearly.

Act Three:  "Three-Hoed Sloth"

In this act, we follow three ladies of the night on their journey through the erotic underworld...of Tuscon.

Act Four, Act Four, and one more time, Act Four: 

"I Wanna Eat @#$% Off Your %^&*, Bra:  A Tale of Gluttony" written and narrated by Sarah Vowell.  A story about the people who founded Hawaii and how things got so kinky, so fast.

And finally, Act Five:  "Greed Gets You Tied Up and Paddled"

A man mugs a woman only to have her chase him down, knock him unconscious, drag him back to her apartment, and, as you probably guessed from the title, ties him up and paddles him.

And that woman is celebrated author Joyce Carol Oates.

Stay with us.

Only Clara Cuts My Hair

I'm sorry, I'm sorry
But only Clara cuts my hair

I let Muskadis do it once
And I looked like a shag carpet

No, I'm afraid it's Clara or nothing

Where should I sit?  Here?

Isn't this Clara's chair?

I hope you didn't fire her
Because if you fired her
I'd have to take my business elsewhere

I can't abide change
Life changes enough
Without us contributing to it

Who plans on shampooing me until Clara gets here?

Perhaps she's running late
She's been sick, you know
Sick with the...you know
And if she's running late, that's fine
I don't want her overexerting herself

You develop a bond with the person who cuts your hair

Clara's more than a stylist to me
She's my dear friend

To be honest, I don't even need a haircut that badly
My hair takes forever to grow
I could wait six months in between haircuts
But I enjoy seeing Clara

Muskadis, you can shampoo me if you like
And I'll tip you for it
Just don't pick up those scissors
Or you'll regret it

Where are the photos?

Her photos of her--

Oh dear

Has she...?

Oh dear

I don't understand
Why didn't anybody call me?

I may be older, but I'm capable of handling bad news
You don't live eighty-four years on this planet
Without weathering some tough times

I'm saddened, of course
But she was sick
So I assume there was suffering
And now she's at peace
Which is fine

Well, I suppose I'll go home

Home?

What a silly question

Of course I know where...

Well...

Once I start walking
I'll remember

I'll just...

Muskadis, there's a number in my purse
Could you call it?

If you call it, then...

Then I should be all right

Muskadis, when they get here, can you...

You are Muskadis, aren't you?

That is your name, isn't it?

Can you tell me when Clara died?

Her name was Clara
She worked her
She cut my hair

Didn't she?

Didn't she?

Henry VIII in What Women Want

Helen Hunt!

What is this nonsense I hear you thinking?

Speak the foolishness you have locked inside your head
Or else I shall severe it
And shake it out onto my office floor
Like so much whore's urine!

How dare you question my ability to know what it is you desire!

I know what every woman desires!

Fresh beef and the King's seed
Resting delicately inside their sinful nethers!

Now I find out that you want love and children
And another Oscar to prove your career
Was not a giant fluke?

You're lucky I don't send you to the guillotine
And marry Marissa Tomei from Scene Two

She's an Oscar winner too
And unlike you
She doesn't furrow her brow
Like a constipated hedgehog
Every time she delivers a soliloquy

Being in this film is hurling my mind into madness

My daughter is a harlot
My secretary is a strumpet
And my therapist is played by Bette Midler!

Curse the demon who installed me
In this Greek tragedy

Helen Hunt, I demand that you throw yourself out the nearest window

It is the only way you can die with honor

England will mourn you
For as many days
As we would mourn
The royal goldfish

I'll be in my office trying to block out the thoughts
Of that lesbian dominatrix, Delta Burke

Leave the window open
Just in case I fail

Marie Antoinette in Titanic

Excuse me?

Excuse me, sir

This must be some sort of mistake

I must have my own lifeboat

I simply couldn't ride in a boat with others
What would people think?

No, no, no need to make them get out of that boat
After all, they're already seated and sweating together

Besides, I'd prefer a lifeboat with some sort of protective covering
Perhaps a cabin with a shower and a comfortable chair?

Why, who knows how long it will take
For us to be rescued?

I would not want to be sitting out in some tiny vessel
Breathing in all this cold air
While the--

DON'T TOUCH ME, YOU FILTHY MAN!

Who was that?

Levi Strauss?

What an awful name

Is he some sort of animal trainer?

Well the next time he comes near me
Please shoot him immediately

I can't risk my delicate skin being compromised
By the oils of impoverished hands

Does that band know any other song?
Perhaps something with a bit more...pep?

Just because the ship is going down
Does not mean we cannot keep smiles on our faces

When they beheaded me
I was smiling
Of course that is because
I overheard a joke
The executioner was telling the priest

I never heard the ending though
How sad

While we are on the subject of complaints
I must say that the assortment of desserts in your diningroom
Was far from adequate

I do not eat as much as I used to
Not since I died anyway
But I still enjoy seeing a nice assortment
Of pastries put out in front of me

Muffins, and danishes, and...uh...perhaps...uh...cake...?


Well, I am ready to board my lifeboat


My dogs will need their own lifeboat
Which will need to be connected to mine
Perhaps by some sort of cushioned tunnel

I will also need a boat for my servants
But you can just put them all together
After all, there are only ninety-six of them
One boat should do it

You know, you think that after you're executed by your own people
Everything after that will seem easy

But life continues to be difficult

Ah well, hold my head please
While I step down into the boat

I'm ready to be rescued

Susan B. Anthony in Showgirls

Would you look at all this currency?

And not ONE coin with my face on it

I realize that it is difficult
To insert a coin
Into the brassiere of a dancing woman
But nonetheless
It would be nice to have my face
Be more active in today's economy

I suppose you think I'm going to say
That I'm ashamed of the women
Working in front of me

Yes, you heard me

Working

Working Women

I suppose you think that's the movie I should be in

Working Girl
With Melanie Griffith

The eighties film that convinced women everywhere
That you could have whatever job you wanted
As long as you were wearing red heels
And willing to screw Harrison Ford

Who in their right mind would screw Harrison Ford?
I was and still am a homely woman
And even I wouldn't touch him

No whip cracking or spaceship flying
Can convince me that pound of dough wrapped in a raisin
Is anything worth removing your corset for

I much prefer the women in this movie
Especially Gina Gershon

What a talent that girl is

I bet she would have made a wonderful Senator
If she hadn't done so much lesbian pornography

At least these women are portraying strong women characters

Oh sure, they're portraying them poorly
And overall the film is terrible
But at least they're not standing in the background
While Danny Thomas chews up the screen

That's the sort of acting I'm used to

Oh, I'm sorry

This was supposed to be about me existing in the world of Showgirls

Well, I cannot exist within the world of Showgirls
Not because I wouldn't like to
But because I don't play around in films

I exist in real life
And in real life I'm dead
So until I'm reincarnated
As some sort of amoeba
I'll sit here and have a drink
And admire the fact
That in a piece of pop culture
Camp culture, would you say?
Is that what it's called?
Or a cult classic?

Anyway

It's in the collective consciousness

Women showing their breasts

What could be more empowering?

We spent so many years covering them up
I'm surprised it never occurred to us
That showing them might actually be useful

It's certain been useful to Elizabeth
She's made all this money
And she's asked me to count it
Because her character never finished third grade
So anything beyond the number eight
Is too complicated for her

Poor dear

But I shouldn't feel bad for her

She's in charge of her own destiny
And at the end of this film
She will not die

Right?

Sorry, but I haven't watched the whole thing
I've been having too much fun
At the beginning

I'm sure I'll get around to it one of these days

Now, if you'll excuse me

I'm up next

Here's hoping I see my own face

Abraham Lincoln in Predator

I do believe this is the first time
I've gone alien hunting

Then again, I suppose the term 'hunting'
Might be a misnomer

Perhaps it is 'they' who are hunting 'us'

Hmmm...

I have considered shaving off my beard before
But until I saw Hawkins get gutted
By that alien soldier
I could never think of a good reason

Now I have one

Mourning for my fellow alien hunter

I will continue to wear my hat, however
As it presents me as a taller man than I am
And may perhaps, scare the aliens
Into thinking that we are a people
With long heads
And long minds

I believe it was eight thousand score
And...five or six years ago
That I was a dead President
Laying interned
Waiting for Heaven
To claim me

When I woke up on a spaceship
Bound for a beautiful jungle planet
I was thrilled to realize that I would be given a second chance at life
Thanks to new reanimation therapy

And I fully intended to instill this jungle planet with democracy
And then run as Supreme Emperor, or President
Depending on the terms we would have for our leaders

Imagine my surprise
When, halfway through construction
Of my Supreme Emperor slash President hut
Half the workers were shot dead
By the alien predator

Normally I would not run at the first sight of adversity
But having been shot in the head before
I can tell you that it is not an enjoyable experience

Now a select few of us must soldier on bravely
Avenge our dead
And reclaim this planet in the name of liberty

And if we die on our quest
I hope the alien dead give whatever parts of bodies they don't consume
A proper and Christian burial

Now, let us go out into that vast jungle
And show these monsters
The face of freedom

Martin in the Elevator

Hello, hello

Eighth floor?

New floor, huh?

Not your usual floor?

Aren't you Jenny from Floor Five?

No?

Oh well--never mind then.

Eighth, it is

Better off you're not Jenny
Then you'd be a tramp

Asked her out for dinner
She said 'No'
You know why?

Because she's a tramp

Tramps don't eat
That's what you find

They want to get right to the board games
If you catch my drift

Scrabble, Monopoly, Shoots and Ladders

Dirty, that girl is

Just dirty

You're sort of a prettier version of her
Except for that right eye of yours

Other than that you'd beat her in a pageant hands down

Plus I bet you don't go playing Trivial Pursuit
With every guy on Floor Five, now do you?

Or I suppose it would be Floor Eight, in your case and--

Ah well, here we are

No, no, I'm going back down

I'm on my break

Riding the elevator relaxes me

. . . . .

Oh going down?

Careful saying that to a fellow on his break!

Hahaha that's me, I'm on break

And I was referring to making love

Love in an elevator, as they say

They being Aerosmith

Do you suppose they ever really did make love in an elevator?

Risky, that is

More so than love in a car or love in a plane bathroom or even love in a department store changing room

I could get risky, I suppose

But not without a few drinks

Of course, I've had a few drinks now

So I suppose now would be the time to get risky

If one wanted to get...risky

One being a woman

I enjoy women

One woman

One woman at a time, please

Hahaha

Unless of course you're a little more adventurous

Which I suppose you would be

Because we'd be making love in a--

Oh, here we are

Well, uh, enjoy the, uh...lobby!

. . . . .

Going up, huh?

Excellent

We can do that

We can certainly do that

Press a button

Up you go

Lovely perfume you're wearing

Smells a bit like an apple tree

Not the tree itself

Not the bark

But the actual, you know, apples
On the tree

Love a good apple

They're out of season, I think

So I guess that means your price has gone up!

Hahaha

That wasn't a joke meant to indicate that you were a prostitute

If that was what you were thinking

I would never call anybody a prostitute unless I had good reason

Like Jenny from Floor Eight

She's a prostitute

Absolutely

You what?

Oh right, you're going to Floor Eight

Do you know Jenny?

Ohhh I see

I wasn't aware she was--

And you're her--

Ohhh

A little office place homosexual romance, huh?

Well, good for you two

That certainly explains why she rejected me a few months ago

Well, now I take back what I said about her being a whore

And a tramp

And a prostitute

And that also explains why you're wearing such ugly shoes!

Well, why should you have to wear nice shoes?

It's not like you're trying to impress a man

Or anybody for that matter really

You've got Old Jenny!

Not that's she old

More like Good Ole Jenny!

Without the Ole

Good Jenny, you should call her

She's just...a doll

Tell her I said 'Hello' will you?

Tell her Martin says he's happy she's a lesbian

I'm just thrilled about it!

Have a lovely day!

. . . . .

What floor, please?

'Right to the bottom,' you say?

Well, I think we both know where this is going...

Joan of Arc in Casablanca

He let her get on the plane, didn't he?

Poor man

He'll be dead in three years

Car accident

Nothing all that extravagant

A quiet death for a loud man

Always unfortunate when that's the case

Do I miss France?

I miss it terribly

But I can still smell the smoke on my skin

I'm an expatriate now

I'm carrying on an affair with the leading banker in Amsterdam

He shows up once a month for a weekend
And I tell him how he's going to die

Every month it's a different death
Because every month he adjusts his life
According to what I've said

I told him lung cancer, so he quit smoking
I told him a heart attack, so he quit red meat
I told him stress, so he divorced his wife

Part of me wonders if he's hoping one weekend he'll show up
And I'll tell him that he's not going to die at all

Who knows?  Maybe I will

He thinks I'm giving him the word of God
The truth is, I don't hear the word of God anymore
Only the sounds of the fire

Sam, do you know anything that goes fast
Then slows down halfway through

I'm trying to remember a song I heard
As I was losing consciousness

It went fast then slow then faded out

It reminded me of the soldiers
Drinking and dancing
Then slowly falling down
And sleeping where they fell

It reminded me of those nights on the hills
Watching the enemy camp
Light each of their fires
Hearing a voice in my head tell me
That I would be going out with a fire one day

I didn't realize it would be the fire of my own people

I'm sad to know that Ilsa's gone
She and I were taking dance classes together
Through the embassy

She used to tease me about always taking the lead
Whenever they'd give me a man to dance with

I suppose it's just my nature

. . . . .

I bought a ticket

Actually, I had the leading banker in Amsterdam buy it

It's the least he could do
Considering I've saved his life
Fourteen times now

I don't plan on using the ticket
But I like looking at it
I like having it

I like knowing it's in my possession

That it's in my power to go home, if I like

I won't know anybody there now
And they won't know me

Or at least, they won't recognize me

The paintings and pictures they have
Are grossly inaccurate

The haircut they give me in them
Makes me look like a stooge

It would be nice to show them
That I wasn't so ugly

It would be nice to show them
That I wasn't so bad

. . . . .

But until then, I'll just let the ticket
Sit in my suitcase

I'll practice my tarot cards
Even though I don't need them

I'll make love to a fat man
So he'll buy me rings

I'll drink too much
And pretend the men who talk to me
Are God

And maybe when Rick comes back
I'll ask him to dance

Maybe I'll tell him to give up driving

It's the least I could do for Ilsa
My old dancing buddy

Until then, I'll just sit here and listen to you play, Sam

Have you thought of that song I was talking about?

Oh, well...

When you think of it
Play it for me, will you?

Play it
Just for me

Mr. Benson Bids Miss Byrd Farewell

Miss Byrd?

May I have a word with you please, before you go to places

Miss Byrd, in the four years
That you have been at this school
I have struggled with being your dramatics teacher

You showed up here with an accent
That would curdle milk

I'm still not sure if you're from a slum in London
Or a mountain town in the Ozarks

Your movements were awkward
Your stage presence was non-existent
And your singing resembled a possum
Being force-fed its young

You were a disaster, Miss Byrd
You were the Hindenburg of theatrical performance

The Hindenburg?

Look it up, Miss Byrd, look it up

You were probably aware
That I was not giving you
The roles you felt you deserved
While you were at this school

It's no secret that during your first two years here
You significantly decreased the budget for our sets
By portraying Tree #2 and Rock #3

I remember your performance as Bush #4 'The Little Forest'
Where you sneezed and dropped all of your branches

I thought to myself--Dear me, she's not even capable of playing shrubbery

Then in year three, when you went on as the understudy for Miss Patrick
In 'The Heart That Can't Be Broken,' I was convinced that you would not only break
But probably break the stage itself right down the middle

And I was wrong, Miss Byrd
You were superb

I suppose you just needed that moment
To prove yourself
And once you had it
You did

You taught me a great deal about being a teacher, Miss Byrd
Up until then, I expected all my students to come in with inherent talent
I punished those who actually required me to do my job
And that was wrong

The mark of my success as a teacher
Should be your performance tonight
In the lead of this, your final play here
But instead, the success is all your own

And I suppose that's all right
In the grand scheme of things

I'll miss you, Miss Byrd

I realize your journey here at this school
Was not an easy one

You were never anyone's favorite
You never had it easy
And you had as many moments of failure as you did triumph

That doesn't make you less of a student, Miss Byrd
It makes you more of one

I am proud of those who come into these halls
And sail through their four years
Like ships on a calm sea

But I am even prouder of those who had to weather a storm
And managed to do it
And come out the stronger for it

Enjoy your farewell performance, Miss Byrd

I'll be in the audience
Enjoying it myself

Dorothy Parker Needs to Shut the F**k Up

Millie?

Millie are you there?

It's Patricia

Patricia, Millie

We ate together yesterday

I had the cucumber salad
And you had half the restaurant

Yes, now you remember

Millie, I've called to tell you that I've had it

I've HAD it

Dorothy has gone too far this time

She made a comment about my hat

My HAT, Millie

The one I had made in Paris
The one I had shipped over from Paris
The one I told everyone was from Paris!

I told Dorothy that it was a gift--

All right, so perhaps I fibbed a bit, Millie
But just a bit

I told her that it was a gift from Pierre in Paris

And she said--

'Well, darling, I could have told you it was a gift from France.  After all, it makes you look just like the Statue of Liberty.'

I know, Millie!

It doesn't even make any sense!

But all the men laughed anyway

Laughed uproariously
As if she'd just invented the knock, knock joke

I wasn't about to let her get away with it

I told her that she was being very rude

'Well, Patricia,' she said, 'I know I am, but I thought you'd appreciate it since you love a good French influence.'

Ohhhh more laughter

Roger nearly urinated
Right there on the patio

I was HUMILIATED

Let me tell you something, Millie
That Dorothy Parker needs to shut the f**k up

You heard me, Millie

Normally, I don't like to use language like that
But that b***h just brings it out of me

I mean, when I think about how she speaks
As if there won't be any repercussions--

Because let's face it, there won't be

Everybody thinks she's just delightful!

Well, the men anyway
The men think she is

Well, good, let them

Let's just hope she never needs help buying a pair of shoes or a floral bouquet
Roger won't be any good to her then

Oh, I can never wear that hat again
Because of that f**king a**hole

Millie, stop swooning
You married a navy man for godsakes
My obscenities should make you feel right at home

I'll tell you something else, Millie
That piece of s**t is de-invited
To my Valentine's Day brunch

She can just go f**k herself from A to B
That's what I have to say about that

Let's see her tell jokes to her empty living room
I'm sure those hideous armchairs of hers
Will find her quite hysterical

Maybe next time she'll reconsider being so rude

What?

Your husband?

What about--the German measles?

Oh Millie, that's terrible

I'd love to comfort you
But I have to make sure the guest wing is being properly cleaned

If I don't watch the help
They try to get away with only dusting everything once every other day
And in a house this size
That's like not dusting at all

But please do me a favor
If Dorothy comes to check in on your husband while he's sick
Please tell her that I said she can go **** while **** twice in the ****
And finish with a **** and three ****

Will you remember that?

Thank you, Millie

You're such a dear