“We have for sexing good time. Yea?” I found myself saying this at least a hundred times a day. I’d taken a job as the Swedish girl at a strip club that ran a “Small World” theme. I’d tell the customers how in my home country, “I am loving gobble up Swedish Meatballs. Yea!” As I bent over and exposed the inner workings of my eventual birth canal. “You like Mexican, Chinese, Black Meatballs baby?” It was always the same response back. I nodded, bent over, peering at them from between my own legs and moan a little. In the meantime, I was rearranging my closet or writing a grocery list in my head. When it got really tedious I tried to recite the intro to the Constitution or the Gettysburg Address. I was an ace at reciting the Gettysburg Address, but I could only get about half way through the Constitution. It was the part, “promote the general Welfare,” that continued to stump me. “Welfare,” I said outloud to myself each time, giggling as I rubbed my not so Swedish breasts together.