I saw a Swede on a bean bag chair, in an LA hipster’s home.
He was big and blond and beautiful, and sitting all alone.
Good gawd he was gorgeous, all sprawled out damn near flat,
and then and there I made my vow, I’m gonna get with that.
So over I strolled casually, while I tried my best,
to pull my push up bra in place, to maximize my chest.
I was thinking, should I mention, True Blood and that I watch?
Right up till I flew forward and fell face down in his crotch.
"Are you ok?", he asked me, with just a hint of strain.
And I was fine and said so, but I think he was in some pain.
By that time I was babbling, about high heels and stupid falls,
and avoiding any mention of my landing on his balls.
Then he politely scooched over some, to give me room to sit.
And I plunked my ass down gracefully, (as a bean bag will permit).
There was silence for a minute, then I figured what the fuck,
can’t say the ice ain’t broken, may as well just try my luck…
…..depends. Is that a swedish euphemism?