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frank zappa – do you like my new car lyrics

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[includes a quote from tell me you love me]

mark: i mean really . . .
howard: rant-rant-rant-rt-rt-rt-rant-nt . . .
mark: you are . . . you gotta tell me something . . . i mean, seriously, i’m tellin’ you, this is the first time that any of my girlfriends and i have ever met anybody reallyfrom hollywood . . . i mean . . . really my girlfriend jim and ian and . . . aynsley and bob and . . . frank . . . i mean, none of us . . . we’ve never . . .
howard: pleased to meet you . . .
ian: hi howie
mark: we’ve never met a pop star from hollywood . . . tell me something: have you ever met davy jones . . . or . . .
howard: no . . .
mark: . . . or bobby sherman?
howard: no, i . . .
mark: i mean . . . david c-ssidy, he’s so . . .
howard: no . . . jimmy greenspoon, and once i . . .
mark: three dog night?
howard: yeah . . .
mark: oh! i love them! they’re my favorite band! oh gawd . . . oh, do you like my new car . . .? my dad just gave it to me for graduation
howard: oh, yeah . . .! it’s a . . . it’s a fillmore, isn’t it? real futuristic, ah . . . i dig the fins . . . listen: do you know how to get to the, ah, holiday inn from here?
mark: no, ah . . . which one is it?
howard: (burp) . . . excuse me . . . it’s . . . it’s . . . it’s the one by the airport . . . you know . . . ’cause we gotta . . . we gotta get up early an’ . . . fly outta here in the morning, you know?
mark: oh! oh, i didn’t know that . . .
(oh, yeah!)
mark: where . . . where d’you guys play tomorrow night? i mean . . . i’d like to come maybe . . . in your bus or somethin’…
howard: yeah?
(in the bus!)
howard: come in the bus, huh? tomorrow we’re in ah, let’s see . . . tierra del fuego
mark: oh . . . you’re so professional, howie!
howard: oh, it’s not . . .
mark: howie, i mean . . .
howard: it’s nothing . . .
mark: i mean the way you’re gettin’ to p . . . to play n all these exotic places, i mean . . .
howard: yeah
mark: tell me something, tell me and all my girl- tell me . . . do you really have a hit record . . . on the charts now . . . with a bullet? i mean that’s really important to me . . .
howard: listen, honey . . . would i lie to you just to . . . get in your pants?
mark: he-hey! listen!
jim: hey, hey . . .
mark: hey, listen to me . . . tell him: we are not groupies!
howard: no, i never . . . i never said that. . .
mark: we’re not groupies! you better understand . . . i told robert plant it, i told elton john, i told all those big guys . . .
howard: robert planet?!
mark: we are not groupies!
howard: no, i never . . .
mark: roger daltrey never laid a hand on me!
howard: no, i never . . . i . . . it’s obvious to see why . . . listen, i’ve never . . .
mark: and my . . .
jim: howard . . .
mark: tell him! tell him right now!
jim: we only like musicians for f-friends, you know?
fz: real straight arrow, howie
mark: really . . . just for friends, howie . . .
jim: but we still like you
fz: yeah, we wouldn’t mind coming in your bus, though
jim: i mean, we still want to hear your record…
howard: listen you chicks, now didn’t . . . didn’t you just say that you got off bein’ juked with a baby octopus . . . and spewed upon with creamed corn . . . an’ that your harelipped dyk–o b-ss-playing girlfriend on the backseat had to have it with a yoo-hoo bottle or she went apesh-t . . .?!
mark: oh . . .
howard: what’s the deal, baby?
mark: howie!
howard: come on . . .
mark: howie, listen to me, all that’s true . . .
howard: come across, like . . . you know?
mark: i swear, all that’s true, and sometimes i even dig it with a dr. brown’s cream soda . . . or a cel-ray! but . . . we are not groupies! no matter what you think . . .
howard: no, i never . . .
mark: we are not groupies . . .
howard: you see, there seems to be some kind of a communications problem, honey, because i . . . i’m a lonely guy from outta town, you know, an’ . . . an’ i want some action . . . what . . . what i’m talkin’ about is, i wanna . . . a-a steaming, succulent, ever-widening, gooey, drippy, runny kind of a hole with a . . . with . . . how shall i put this . . .? what say we hop in the trunk of your gremlin an’ get our rocks off?
mark: hey! hey-hey-hey-heyyyy . . . jesus!
fz: very agile, howie, very agile!
mark: i’m in this band, man . . . i am in this band no matter what we do up here . . . you know . . . now listen, it just so happens . . .
howard: yeah . . .
mark: tonight me and my girlfriends, i mean, we’ve all come here for one thing tonight . . .
howard: yeah?
mark: looking for a guy . . . and we’re looking for a guy from a group . . .
howard: wow!
mark: but he’s gotta have a d-ck!
howard: no!
mark: and he’s gotta have a d-ck that’s a monster!
howard: waaaaaaaah . . .! that’s me! that’s me! oh . . . oh, you voluptuous manhattan island cl-t . . .
fz: i swear he was a manhattan island . . .
howard: take me, i’m yours, you hole . . . fulfil my . . . wildest dreams!
mark: ooooh! anything for you, my most seductive, seclusive . . . pop star of a man . . .
howard: yeah?
mark: picture this if you can
howard: oh . . .
mark: bead jobs!
howard: oh!
mark: knotted nylons!
howard: oh!
mark: bamboo canes!
howard: oh!
mark: three unreleased recordings of crosby, stills, nash and young fighting in the dressing-room of the fillmore east!
howard: oh!
mark: one enchilada wrapped with pickle sauce shoved up and down in between a donkey’s legs until he can’t stand it no more . . .! all this and more, howie, including: an electric coolde pony harness, with fuel injection . . . fuel injection . . . fuel injection . . .
howard: oh . . . my god, i . . . i . . . i can’t stand it! i mean . . . i mean, do you understand the implications of what i’m saying? i . . . i can’t stand it! i can’t stand it! i can’t stand it! i can’t stand it! i can’t stand . . . feet on fire . . . i’m going home! i gotta see my baby! i gonna . . . so hot! i can’t stand it! i can’t stand it! i can’t stand it! i can’t stand it . . . i can’t stand it . . . i can’t stand it! i can’t stand it! i can’t . . . oh! oh no! oh . . . god . . .! i can’t stand it! oh . . . i really can’t stand it . . . please . . . give it to me . . . give it to me right here in the trunk of your gremlin . . . give me . . . give me the enchilada with the pickle sauce shoved up and down the donkey’s -ss until he can’t come anymore!
mark: hey-hey! not until you sing me your big hit record! and i wanna hear the big hit record, and i wanna hear it now, an’ i wanna hear the big hit record now with a bullet! with a bullet!
howard: the bullet?
mark: the bullet! the bullet! it’s the part that gets me the hottest . . . now sing me that record, and i wanna hear it right now or you ain’t driving nowhere tonight, buddy . . .
howard: well . . . i know when i’m licked . . . all over . . . okay, baby: bend over and spread ’em! here comes my . . . bullet!