So Poor Pitiful Me walks around when she is sick, like all should declare she did some neat trick. She wants to lap up the attention of all because Poor Pitiful Me is once more giving the sick call. Well I know half is placebo or Poor Pitiful Me's cry to be seen. I think she wishes she would even turn green. That way all would ask and she wouldn't have to ooo and ahhh like she drank something interesting from some flask.
One little sniffle and off she goes but the nut seems to like the woes. Of course her sometimes germiness curls my toes. Especially when for the fiftieth time she blows her nose. But it as an easy fix, yet she likes her tricks, thinking it gets her attention or some sort of mention.
So you look at me and whine,
Pretending you aren't fine.
When really you are,
Completely on par.
Even when you are not,
I don't care if you whine a whole lot.
For you are the dumb one,
As you let your whines run.
Touch a door knob,
Shake hands with Bob.
Oh look he whipped his nose,
With his hand before his pose.
Open some mail,
Scratch your ass like you got a tail.
Yeah, it happens for real,
Really a scary ordeal.
Then oh golly gee,
It's snack time for thee.
Yank it out of your purse,
As you pretend to feel worse.
And you chow down,
With your fake half frown.
Then you have the nerve to wonder,
Why germs begin to plunder,
Your ever so itchy rear,
More like a nervous twitch I fear.
The sink is ten seconds away,
But oh no another ooo and ahhh has to have their say.
Can't take ten seconds to wash your hands,
That might help clear your germy glands.
We can't have that,
Then you might squash those germs flat.
You could forget how to fake sick on the go.
You need those germs to ooo and ahhh about.
So people look at you when you shout.
So glad when you turn away,
Just maybe a finger goes on display.
But if you truly want attention,
And an ongoing mention.
I promise there is an easier way,
Just get up and pretend you have something to say.
But forget your fake sick sass,
And just scratch your ass.
I guarantee people will talk then,
You still won't turn on men or women.
But you'll be the talk of the town.
The compulsive ass scratcher with a fake sick frown.
Hmmm maybe Poor Pitiful Me should get the nickname Ass Scratcher at my sea. Which one do you think would work well for my rink? Now wasn't that some fun facts on her stupid acts? The cat may pass gas but at least I don't scratch away, night and day, at my little rhyming ass.
Enjoy your winter, smash a printer.