The other night I went down to Krispy Kruller's All Night Sugar Palace: it was there in the doorway I said, "Oh, well, maybe not." Inside there were twenty women talking...well, this is what they said, at any rate.
"You know, this is what I hate the most: guys who sing to me as soon as they meet me. I mean, meet me all the way where?""How true is that? Not only am I taller than 5'4", I already know how to spell my name, thank you very much!"
"It could be worse: not only do I hate oranges and prefer coffee, I have to put up with people talking about my body. Perfect or not, if you touch it with anything, buster, and you'll lose it. Especially if it's your mind."
"Give me a break. At least those are from men who are interested in you. All my boyfriends are busy singing about leaving me and how I have no love in my soul. Please."
"Hey, the message I get is no better--all those men telling me to go away, they're no good, and in those horrible falsettos."
"Not that it's so great to have someone who's just met you tell you that you're breaking their heart. Daily."
"I wish they'd stop! It's like what's her name said before--everyone who meets me tells me how nice it would be to touch me. You better believe you have to think twice about that."
"See this? I'm trying to find sympathy and failing, because at least what you get makes sense. Whereas I get stuck with 'Sunday monkey won't try being a cymbal' or whatever."
"Compare that to getting called a prostitute by every man who meets you! Speaking of falsettosat least those stopped a little after the tango in the movie."
"I don't know. 'Prostitute' might make for a nice change of pace from people who wish they'd never seen me. Because I'm old. Oh please."
"Hey, no sense in getting annoyed; you just need a comeback. The next time someone does it to me I'm just going to say, 'No, you know what? Everything you say is meaningless.'"
"Of course, I wouldn't mind so much if I didn't have to put up with having a strange name anyway. It's kind of funny to watch men fall to their knees and beg. And play air guitar, unless they only know that horrid acoustic thing."
"Try coping with it from a mystical pop chanteuse. Ugh. Where the hell is this sea, anyway, and why can't more people please just go ahead and drown in it? That's what I would love."
"What, because that's better than the other one? No time is a good time for that song."
"It's not as if it's better to have everyone thinking of you as an old woman. I swear, I will go in hiding one of these days."
"You all make it almost sound pleasant to constantly have people telling me we're all innocent. And that they've all failed me."
"Trust me, it is pleasant--just try having people stutter your name at you. And try to do harmony by themselves. I'm going to 'rock and reel' the next guy who tries it, I tell you."
"Yeah, that sounds a lot like having guys you just met telling you to call on them. Like I care that they're the same--I didn't know them before."
"I might turn red, but I don't think anyone has taken me by surprise at this point. And the only thing they've made me realize is how much I hate that song."
"What herring crap! Shut up, all of you! You don't have guys assuming you're a man. I swear the only good thing about that song is the Star Wars parody."
The whole thing won't fit as the password, of course, so the first twelve will suffice.