Who Do I Have To Fuck

I took a hot shower; I powdered my nose
I smell like a flower, a daisy or rose
I made up my eyes and I painted my lips
I polished my nails with those false Lee Nail tips

I've done what I can; I've nursed many a beer
I've bided my time it seems year after year
But I can't get a pinch or a wink or a leer
Tell me, who do I have to fuck to get laid around here?

I ordered a pizza at quarter to three
I stood in the cold wearing pads on each knee
I had nuts and Doritos and Bud Light on ice
The Domino's guy might just stay for a slice

I've tried being coy and I've tried being cheap
I've tried to slip into their beds while they sleep

I've done what I can, I've shed many a tear
I'm not being picky or shy or austere
As long as he breathes and has most of his gear
Tell me, who do I have to fuck to get laid around here?

I've pushed up my breasts with a push up brassiere
I'm dressing myself for a brand new career
I stand on the corner with trannies and hos
I wave at the drivers but nobody slows

I've tried getting drunk and I've tried getting high
I've slipped me a mickey to help out the guy

I've done what I can; I've no shame and no fear
I've thought long and hard and I'm sure I'm not queer
I can't get a date or arrested, that's clear
Tell me, who do I have to fuck to get laid around here?


Fishsticks

What's a fishstick? I don't know
Is it blowfish with no blow?
Is it whale fat? Is it tripe?
If it's striped bass, where's the stripe?

Held together with some spit
Then left out in the sun
That's why fishsticks taste like shit
When the cookin's done

How'd they get their fishstick shape?
I wish I knew
Elmer's and some masking tape
It's a secret known to few
They won't tell you

Poor little fishticks, got no guts
Got no fish heads, got no butts
Where's his fish tail? Where's his eyes?
Where's his fish mouth, when he cries?

He cries, what's this brown stuff on my back?
Breadcrumbs and some poo
Other fishes give me flack
Got me feelin' blue

How'd I get here on this plate?
I've got no clue
If I were something that I ate
I'd gag on me too

A horrid fate I didn't pick
To spend my life shaped as a stick
Making little kids feel sick
That Mrs. Paul can suck my cock


If Only (The Ballad of '93)

(If only it was cool to be in chorus, or ride the bus or have a bottom locker.
If only you had to have fat thighs to make cheerleading squad.
If only you had to be a virgin to be homecoming queen.)

If only I were very tall and very, very thin
If only I had big huge breasts and pretty clothes to put them in
If only I was very rich or I was royalty
Or had a very special niche the center of which was me

If only I were someone else, I might have found happiness sooner
If only I were Daryl Hannah
And you were John Kennedy Junior
And you were John Kennedy Junior

I never was a pom pom girl with lips of cherry red
I didn't make my straight hair curl; I didn't give great head

If only I played tennis well or looked good in a fez
If only I were Paula Abdul
And you were Emilio Estevez
And you were Emilio Estevez

Remember Lady Guinevere
In old days she was hot
Not only did she bag King Arthur
But she fucked Lance a lot

If only I were like a goldfish and not some anchovy
If only you were Jon Bon Jovi
And I was Mrs. Jon Bon Jovi
And I was Mrs. Jon Bon Jovi


Kaplan's Messiah

Where were you when Sparky died from falling through the ice?
He barked until his voice was fried; that wasn't very nice
Where were you when Uncle Saul was choking on a plum?
No one did the Heimlich cause we thought that you would come

Was that you dressed up as Jesus Christ on Halloween?
Can't you give me just a hint if you were Ben Vereen in Pippin?

Hey Messiah, ho Messiah, why are you so slow, Messiah?
I'm so lonely
If you're our only hope we're fucked

Were you there when Little Sue was missing in the snow?
We found her when the spring rains came; I guess the answer's no
Mother went to jail for writing thousands in bad checks
Were you in the shower then, asleep or having sex?

Were you there that fateful night they made the atom bomb?
Were you there the night I got my period at the prom?

Hey Messiah, ho Messiah, why are you so slow, Messiah?
I'm so lonely
If you're our only hope we're fucked

Did you give us up for Lent?
Do you know where Jimmy Hoffa went?
If you sent Rabbi Schneerson, was he meant to see us through?
'Cause he is dead now, too

I looked for you in synagogue; I didn't see you there
I don't like going either so that doesn't seem quite fair
The story goes you'd come to lead the faithful and the true
As things stand now I'd sooner trust my fate to Scooby Doo

Would you watch my back for a Scooby snack?

Hey Messiah, ho Messiah, why are you so slow, Messiah?
I'm so lonely
If you're our only hope we're fucked


Letter from Dr. Randall Berkhauser

January 15, 2005
Ms. Cynthia Kaplan c/o Rodale Publications

Dear dear dear dear, Cynthia
After reading your well written piece
In Organic Style Magazine
I felt compelled to write
I'm a 69 year-old physician and divorcee
With a great sex life

It is obvious that you and your husband
Have less than good sex (baby or no baby)
That your husband has to suffer from blue balls or jerk himself off
Is a crying shame (baby or no baby)
I was in the same boat with my first wife Caroline
A good woman, a good woman, a good woman
But a lousy wife

Dear dear dear dear, Cynthia
My voluminous marriage counseling just didn't help much
But it wasn't my fault
I think the problem stemmed from Caroline's mother
Who was anal retentive, super clean
And thought oral sex was dirty

I can't begin to tell you how much sexual joy I have
With my new lady friend (baby or no baby)
Your article may give others the impression your approach to sex
Is natural (baby or no baby)
You are in the same boat, with my first wife Caroline
A good woman, a good woman, a good woman
But a lousy wife

Dear dear, dear dear dear, dear dear dear dear, Cynthia
Oh Cynthia, my Cynthia, Cynthia, Cynthia

It is obvious that you and your husband
Have less than good sex (baby or no baby)
That your husband has to suffer from blue balls or jerk himself off
Is a crying shame (while you nurse the baby)
We're all in the same boat with my first wife Caroline
A good woman, a good woman, a good woman
But a lousy wife, a lousy wife

Sincerely, Dr. Randall Berkhauser
45 Meridian Avenue, San Jose, California 95120


School Supplies

You were always there when I needed you
If I screwed up you let me start again
You helped me out a million times, as if on cue
Then one day, with no warning, came the end
Would someone kindly tell me why erasers die?

Why don't erasers last as long as pencils do?
You're left with half a pencil now, which might as well be ink
Why doesn't some bright scientist do something to erasers
That keeps them soft and pink?
Who on God's green earth knows why erasers die

You've been around for all my life or so it seems
You've held my shit together for so long
Without you I would not know where to find my dreams
Since you let me go it's all been wrong
How can I describe the ache when rubber bands break?

What happens to the rubber that it gets all rough and dry
And starts to crack and harden and your stuff all ends up on the floor?
Why doesn't some smart A.P. Chem. kid come up with a better rubber?
That's what brains are for
It's almost just too hard to take; rubber bands break

This song is not a metaphor for anything
Not everything's a metaphor
Some things have intrinsic value and don't represent emotions
Like the way you felt when your dog died of leukemia

You filled my world with color since the early days
You never called me nuts or asked me why
You let me mix you up a million different ways
Until the love you gave me all ran dry
It's sadder than a dying pup; markers dry up

Is this a stupid question, well I'll ask it, anyway
Why do they call them magic markers when they're really colored pens?
You want to call them magic they should sing or drive a car
Or make you prettier than your friends
For Christ's sake put the caps on tight and it'll be all right


Bride of Christ

I dreamt I was the bride of Christ
We married Christmas day
We honeymooned in Rio
Where we danced the nights away

We walked on the beach and we swam in the sea
And we made love in the sand
I said to myself, wow, this man once was dead
That's some thing he can do with his hand

But when we got home and the real work began
On the life we would build for ourselves
I found out Mr. I was a carpenter once
Couldn't build me some stinking bookshelves

I said, you're the frigging Messiah
You can save the human race
But you can't put two pieces of wood on the wall
And nail them into place

I'm Mrs. Christ, wife of Christ, Cindy Christ
I'm Mrs. Jesus H. Christ

I come home from work and the place is a mess
Are you just doing bong hits all day?
Did you have your friends over? They eat all our food
At least that whore Mary got paid

This whole sitting around all day doling out miracles
Is getting to be a huge bore
And the bleeding spontaneously just to show off
At this point, no offense, is a snore

Don't suffer the children; don't heal any cripples
Don't silence the clamoring mob
Don't promise us fishes or loaves or some shit
Just go out there and get a real job

You're the frigging Messiah
That shit might have played back in your day
Right now you should put on some pants and for Christ's sake
Just put the cross away. Hey!

I'm Mrs. Christ, wife of Christ, Cindy Christ
I'm Jesus H. Christ

I dreamt I was the bride of Christ
I think it was a sign
I won't be impressed anymore when a guy
Can turn water into wine

Or walk barefoot all day in a billowing robe
Or refer to himself as The Lord
Not everyone who was a carpenter once
Turns out like Harrison Ford

So what, he's the Messiah
So he died for our sins, so what's new
Who gives a shit he's the hope of mankind
If he's no longer a Jew

Ooh, Mrs. Christ, Wife of Christ, Cindy Christ
Ooh, Mrs. Jesus H. Christ


Hip Hip Hooray

He wasn't the tallest, he wasn't the bravest
He wasn't the wisest of men
He didn't win races or climb any mountains
He didn't quote Tocqueville or Zen
He didn't slay lions or bears
He was not good at showing he cares
As lovers go he wasn't bad
Now the man's dead and I'm glad

La la la la la la la la la, la la la la la la
La la la la la la la la la, la la la la la la

He didn't like smiling. He whistled ad nauseam
His family gave me the creeps
His fingers smelled funny. He sweated profusely
He thought that he had me for keeps
But luckily you came along
And now I'm here singing this song
Your car knocked him right on his head
Hip hip hooray, now he's dead

La la la la la la la la la, la la la la la la
Ha ha ha ha ha ha ha ha ha, (whistling)

He hated small children. He killed someone's puppy
I married him under duress
His buttocks were hairy. He'd only one testicle
I caught him once wearing a dress
But one thing I love I have found
I love that he's deep underground
So one last time let it be said
Tra la la la la, he's dead

He ain't coming back, 'cause he's dead

Tra la la la la la la la la, tra la la la la la
Tra la la la la la la la la, la la la la la la,
tra la la la la la, (whistling), ha ha ha ha ha ha


Vomit If You Must

I hope you don't mind, I've got something big to say
You don't look a thing like your old self today
You look like something bad the dog dragged through the dust
You look like something sad that needs to be discussed

I tell you now with all humility
I know just how you feel; it feels the same to me
You took in more than you could; now you want to bust
Hey, baby, it's okay, vomit if you must

Go ahead and vomit on your plate or on the floor
Vomit in the bag of chips that way you won't want more
Everybody barfs sometimes; it's icky but it's true
As long as you don't barf on me, I don't mind if you do

Sometimes I have to puke from how my dinner looks
While it lays there on the counter just before it cooks
That lobster with his head on, he sure makes me feel unsteady
The green stuff that's inside him looks like someone puked already

And olives with pimentos in them, what the fuck are those?
Did someone blow their chunks, pimentos coming out their nose?
Then getting lodged in olives and you know what happens then?
Just pop 'em in your mouth and start the cycle up again

Go ahead and vomit at the movies or the zoo
Don't linger in the monkey house; they'll eat it if you do
Everybody barfs sometimes; it's icky but it's true
As long as you don't barf on me, I don't mind if you do

Would you like a glass of ginger ale or a cool washcloth on your face?
I'll hold your hair back if you have that kind of hair
It means I love you, baby. Do you love me the same way?
Tell me, will you get me ginger ale, a washcloth, hold my hair back?

Everybody likes to chill out on their best friends meds
The yellows make you mellow, then you rebound on the reds
That's the time to drive until you find an open bar
But don't leggo your Eggo till you get out of my car
Those orange whisky sours were so pretty going in
But they'll look different later when they're dribbling down your chin
I said I loved you baby, and I always want you near
But for tonight I'll love you while I'm standing over here

Go ahead and vomit on your lap or in your hair
Put the Champagne punch back in the punchbowl, if you dare
Everybody barfs sometimes; it's icky but it's true
As long as you don't barf on me, I don't mind if you do
Yeah baby don't you barf on me and I won't barf on you


Gingivitis Can Kill You

Remember when Aunt Shirley died? We thought she had the flu
She maybe had phlebitis and some indigestion, too
But truth be told it was a tiny peanut that got lost
That stuck and festered in her gums—if only she had flossed
If only she had flossed

A raisin is your enemy; a carrot's not your friend
A sesame or poppy seed could mean the bitter end
A tiny piece of chewing gum that split off from the wad
An apple skin, a candy corn, a popcorn hull, oh, God
A popcorn hull, oh, God

Gingivitis can kill you
Bet you didn't know
Forget to brush for just one day
Bacteria can grow
It doesn't matter if you're eating goldfish on a dare
You could be the Queen of England
Gingivitis doesn't care

Remember when the boy next door was beat up by some thugs
Some say he died of head wounds and some say that it was drugs
But I heard that some months before his mother made a pie
The coroner said fungus from a rhubarb made him die
The rhubarb made him die

Gingivitis can kill you
No one will be spared
It starts quite small but then it grows
Where cancer never dared
A cupcake could be lethal and a lamb chop your last course
A Brussels sprout or broccoli spear
Takes life with out remorse

No one lives forever, there are hazards everywhere
In many an endeavor there are reasons to beware
There's always some big study on the risks of tooth decay
But you won't need your teeth if gingivitis has its way
It always has its way

Hey, Gingivitis can kill you
Perhaps already has
You're sitting there; you're unaware
Tonight could be your last
That you just saw your dentist doesn't matter, not a bit
He could be the Pope in Rome
Gingivitis doesn't give a shit


Merry Christmas To You

Bells are ringing, revelers mingling
Lights are lighting up the sky
Be of good cheer, all is well here
You could get a contact high

That's what Christmas does
It spreads the warmth; it makes you buzzed
It opens us to what will be
And it forgives us for what was

That's what Christians do
They love each other through and through
I hope they have some left for me
Because it turns out I'm a Jew
Merry fucking Christmas to you

What I'd really like is a mountain bike
And a fifty-inch TV
But I'll get socks or alarm clocks
Or a pen engraved to me

Jews get crappy shit
A Teflon pan, a shaving kit
A flannel robe, a book, oh boy
A turtleneck that doesn't fit

What am I to do When someone wakes me up at two
It isn't Santa bringing joy
It's just my mother-in-law, goddammit
Merry fucking Christmas, fuck you

Fa la la la la la, baaaah rum bum bum, bum

I've got good will; I wish no ill
To the stranger on the street
So I don't buy Christ was the guy
Though it's clear he took some heat

That we killed him on some kind of whim
Well, I tell you it's not true
He's not the only one who had no fun
They were mean to Moses, too

I'd just like to say
That I've got nothing 'gainst the day
But for you Jews with Christmas trees
Hey, what the fuck? It's not okay

When Elijah comes, I know
He'll skip right past your Yuletide show
Pretend you're Christian all you please
But Santa's not the savior, no
Merry fucking Christmas, ho ho


The Goodbye Song

Goodbye, so long
Glad that you could come
Don't forget your money
But please leave the waitress some

Get home safely
Don't drive if you are drunk
Don't do crack cocaine
With some cheap whore or stupid punk

Be nice and friendly to the cops
So they won't have to blow your brains out
Before you're here again
At the Cindy Kaplan Show

Hopefully we'll all meet here again
At the Cindy Kaplan Show