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My Birthday, Bitch.

Yo–I had a special day, y’all–don’t just sit there i-dl-y

Bitch, it ain’t no mystery, I made it nice and title-y

So don a little hat, have a lollipop or sucker

Cuz just the other day it was my BIRTHDAY MOTHER FUCKER

And as always on my birthday, while I softly celebrate it

I’ll tell you all a secret–well, I kinda fuckin’ hate it

This all dates back to when I was a tiny little Jew

The night was New Years Eve NINETEEN FUCKING NINETY-TWO

My parents had big plans to go out with their friends to dinner

And I was sure to make this New Years Eve a fuckin’ winner

My dad took me to Blockbuster and rented me The Witches

We picked up the babysitter IT’S A SLUMBER PARTY BITCHES

I cut up all my Tiger Beats, made three bowls of confetti

And defrosted some pierogies BITCH THEY’RE BETTER THAN SPAGHETTI

I then called up every single girl in my fuckin’ class

“I gots pierogies and The Witches –ANJIE HUSTON KICKS SOME ASS”

My parents overheard this and just rolled their eyes in shame

And prolly weren’t surprised at all when just one person came

But she was TOTES MY BFF, so I didn’t mind a bit

And she brought me sparkling cider MARTINELLI’S IS THE SHIT

She didn’t want to watch The Witches, but that was our only clash

(If she don’t like Ms. Huston’s work in that, I HOPE SHE DON’T WATCH SMASH)

We danced with hats necklaces that glowed up in the dark

Like a two-person Bar Mitzvah for our dear old love, DICK CLARK

We had more cider and more candy than quite possibly could feed us

A night like this I think gave Wilford Brimley diabeetus

As the clock ticked down to twelve we were screaming and a-hopping

(We hadn’t learned ’bout balls, or I’d have joked about them dropping)

We counted down to one and I sent confetti flying

As it fell I looked down at my friend, and she just started crying

“OMG What’s wrong??” I ran right up to her and asked

She said to me through teary eyes, “Time just goes by so fast”

In poor form, I popped a popper (it was begging me to pop it)

She cried, “The years go by so fast and really nobody can stop it”

I stopped through falling streamers and I let her words just chill me

“I gotsta dustbust this confetti or my mom is gonna kill me”

We cried through the whole night, gravely questioning our fate

(I should probably mention here that we were motherfuckin’ EIGHT)

We still joke about that night, our thoughts at eight were so severe

But I go right back to that place ’round my birthday every year

I get scared when I see birthday cake and even some gift wrappin’

And for some reason on my birthday week, awful things just happen

Throughout much of history, that week is hella shitty

It was the week of Columbine and Oklahoma City,

The San Francisco earthquake and the siege at Waco, Texas

One year that week I backed my car into my neighbor’s Lexus

The Titanic hit an iceberg, Jack and Rosie started sinkin’

‘Twas a bad week at the theatre for President Abe Lincoln

That week the BP oil rig exploded in the Gulf

Mrs. Hitler had a baby and she named him fuckin ‘dolf

The Revolutionary War began, shots at Virginia Tech

All occurred my birthday week, and it’s like WHAT THE HECK?

The only good part ’bout my day is it’s Tim Curry’s birthday too

Without whom there’s no Frank-N-Furter, Home Alone, or CLUE

I try to see the good in things, we Jews don’t do the devil

But this year brought my birthday week down to a whole new level

Last week our dear ol’ country needed somebody to spare her

From hatred and from politics, from tragedy and from terror

Each day seemed to get worse than I ever thought it could

But through all the loads of evil, we saw ten times that much good

The goodness that came trough in itself was redefining

We saw new depths of darkness, but the brightest silver lining

We help each other run again, and carry those who fall

To be reminded of such goodness was the greatest gift of all

(Well, on the subject of great gifts my husband did get me a banjo

So to him I give my thanks and very possibly a hand-jo)

Now I think back on that New Years and my tiny worried self

And I think it’s time I take those fears and place them on the shelf

If we let our anxieties cripple and confound us

We miss out on the beauty that is right there all around us

I’m not sure what next year will bring, but I can guarantee

That I’ll be smiling on my birthday, with a banjo on my knee

And I hope you too will celebrate the good amidst the fury

And don’t do it for me, of course, but do it for Tim Curry

word.

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