Sometimes I lay awake in bed at night, quietly singing the words to "Disco Inferno." On these occasions, I usually end up crying myself to sleep.
The tabloids, as is their wont, have been busily chit-chattering away about horrible F-ups in my recent minor plastic surgery. I go in last week for chin lift and lip curl, and since I was going under knife (as they say in America), I ask to have my eyes re-browed, it was all part of 'package deal' I tore out of the Beverly Hills Hometown Circular. My doctor, Doctor Franklinstein (Please note the "L", it his real name, not a joke, do not be a childish ass), or as I call him 'Doctor Kooky' (because his first name 'Kooky'), assure me that nothing is amiss and everything go perfectly according to his three step plan. He explain that he have to move my eyeballs (temporarily) to the palms of my hands so they would be out of the way during the re-brow-ment. He shave my head and reduce my nose to a nib to tighten the skin in every direction. He on purpose left some surgical sponges in my cranium so they would be there for future retightening work, and he gave me some botulism tonic to drink while I recover from 'Step one'. Lastly, he sharpen my fingers and dye the tips black for 'comic effect' (at no charge!!) and I has to admit, it pretty damn funny. 'Step Two' of his patent process calls for me to have my hands removed and sewn into my face so my eyes are somewhat back in position. Then, in the third and final surgery, I have my toes sewn together, my lips re-implanted, my hands switched to opposite arms (for dexterity and because it has a slimming effect), and finally metal 'hair' implanted in my scalp.
Soon enoughs, I am gonna look like George Clooneys in The Good German. Has anyone seen this movie? I seem to be the only person in the theatre…for every screening. Anyhoo, do not worry for me, I am very fine.