1.Taking Aim (Spoken Word)
2.Fat as I am!
Fat as I am.
Who wants to see a diva fat as I am？
I get mistaken now for Lainie Kazan.
How is it that I'm fat as I am？
Fat as I am.
The camera's gonna add a ton to my can.
This is the way they say Godzilla began.
How did I get as fat as I am？
'Try it again.'
All of my friends say I should diet again;
That all my fans are gonna riot again.
'Look what happened to Liz.'
All of my sins
are not as numerous as . . . all of my chins!
I could audition for the doublemint twins.
No one in the biz is as fat as I is.
Ah, but what's a career
when you put it next to knockwurst and beer？
They could park a DC10 on my rear.
God knows I got the gas!
There goes the chair.
But to tell the truth, I'm too fat to care!
I ate a meatball off the floor right over there.
Ah, you don't give a damn
when you're fat as I am!
3.Marriage, Movies, Madonna, and Mick (Spoken Word)
4.Vickie Eydie
5.I'm singing Broadway
I'm singing Broadway and I love it!
I'm singing Broadway and I'm proud!
You can keep your Springsteen.
Shove your Chaka.
I really don't care for that kind of kaka.
Ethel, Liza, Chita, that's my crowd, my crowd!
Yes-sah, I'm singing Broadway and it's heaven!
'Cause 'Heaven' is a song from a Broadway show!
Ah, just give me a part that's got laughter and tears
and I'll feel like Yul Brenner for the next thousand years!
Ah, Broadway, Broadway, Broadway! Brrrrrravo!
Ahhh, who needs a girl who's got flourescent hair,
or an ugly boy singing off key？
Give me a broad who's got tits out to there,
belching it out to the balcony!
AhhhAHHHHHHHH!!!!
Yes-sah! I'm singing Broadway and it's heaven!
I'll be singing Broadway 'til I die!
Just tell me what could be better
than shaking your buns
in front of a chorus
of thirty-five nuns？
I'll climb every mountain
and ford every river I see.
A Lady and her muszack,
Ha-that's ha-me! Yeah!
6.Coping (Spoken Word)
7.The unfettered Boob (Spoken Word)
8.Otto Titsling
'This next story is a true story. It concerns to of my favorite
subjects：industrial theft . . . and-a t-ts! Mmm, what a combo!
This is the story . . . The inventor of the modern foundation
garment that we women wear today was a German scientist and
opera lover by the name of Otto Titsling! This is a true story.
His name was Otto Titsling. What happened to Otto Titsling
shouldn't happen to a schnauzer. It's a very sad story. I feel i
have to share it with you.'
Otto Titsling, inventor and crout,
had nothing to get very worked up about.
His inventions were failures, his future seemed bleak.
He fled to the opera at least twice a week.
One night at the opera he saw an aida
who's t-ts were so big they would often impede her.
Bug-eyed he watched her fall into the pit,
done in by the weight of those terrible t-ts.
Oh, my god! There she blows!
Aerodynamically this bitch was a mess.
Otto eye-balled the diva lying comatose amongst the reeds,
and he suddenly felt the fire or inspiration
flood his soul. He knew what he had to do!
He ran back to his workshop
where he futzed and futzed and futzed.
For Otto Titsling had found his quest：
to lift and mold the female breast;
to point the small ones to the sky;
to keep the big ones high and dry!
Every night he'd sweat and snort
searching for the right support.
He tried some string and paper clips.
Hey! He even tried his own two lips!
Well, he stiched and he slaved
and he slaved and he stitched
until finally one night, in the wee hours of morning,
Otto arose from his workbench triumphant.
Yes! He had invented the worlds first
over-the-shoulder-boulder-holder. Hooray!
Exhausted but ecstatic he ran
down the street to the diva's house
bearing the prototype in his hot little hand.
Now, the diva did not want to try the darn thing on.
But, after many initial misgivings,
she finally did.
And the sigh of relief that issued forth
from the diva's mouth
was so loud that it was mistaken by some
to be the early onset of the Seraken Winds
which would often roll through the Schwarzwald
with a vengance!
Ahhhhh-i!
But little did Otto know,
at the moment of his greatest triumph,
lurking under the diva's bed
was none other than the very worst
of the french patentees,
Phillip DeBrassiere.
And Phil was watching the scene
with a great deal of interest!
Later that night, while our Broom Hilda slept,
into the wardrobe Phillip softly crept.
He fumbled through knickers and corsets galore,
'til he found Otto's titsling and he ran out the door.
Crying, 'Oh, my god! What joy! What bliss!
I'm gonna make me a million from this!
Every woman in the world will wanna buy one.
I can have all the goods manufactures in Taiwan.'
'Oh, thank you!'
The result of this swindle is pointedly clear：
Do you buy a titsling or do you buy a brassiere？
9.Why Bother？ (Spoken Word)
10.Soph (Spoken Word)
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