Tits are in the Eye of the Beholderby Ty Higgins ![]() January 6, 2003 I think that I shall never passa poem as lovely as an ass or a verse that weighs as heavy as a buck-naked supermodel straddling a Chevy How could course words ever capture the heaven of the classic Maxim issue #7? No match has a poet's mind thought for the work God and boob doctors hath wrought on the chest of some milky-white maiden a blank canvas now silicone-laden How could Wordsworth ever be so divine as that chick on the cover of Maxim #9? He probably never got a girl so immaculate if the portrait in our book is at all accurate Everyone knows guys only turn to poems and learning of xylems and phloems and spending their time curing cancers and knowing the names of ballet dancers when their chances of scoring have vanished and their boring old asses are banished You may be there, teach-I'd say you are I've seen that shitbox you call a car You'd pick up more ladies in a hearse and that suit that you wear's even worse So I'm glad you've got books-'cuz you need 'em to forget you're not getting laid while you read 'em And me, all I need is to pass even if I was reading a Penthouse in class I need you to hook me up, teach, no doubt 'cuz I hear college girls are the ones who put out. Quote of the Day“When you wish upon a star… doesn't that burn like a motherfucker? Those things are basically like other suns. Me, I do all my wishing on the floor of my bedroom.”-"Cricket-Bat" Nigel Jiminy Fortune 500 CookieYour future lies in Clearasil, now and forever. Having Carrot Top fill in for you at the anchor desk Tuesday might just end your career. Why is more than one sheep still called sheep? And why are they so damned affectionate? You're going to regret correcting Randy Savage's grammar before the week is done. Saturday: Fish or die.Try again later. Top 5 commune Features This Week
Lunch Money Listen up, Billy Olson I'm a drink you up like Molson make you sing like a fat Al Jolson grab your tits and milk 'em both, son. 'Cause you messed with the best I confess it's no test I am the real thing you will know the hurt I bring ... (12/23/02) Thug Life You can take your poetry class grind it into a meatball and cram it up your ass Mr. Costenoble, you fruity pebble prick. And Health teacher, I'm warning you to mind your own girth I could out-eat you since long before birth I had a... (12/9/02) Spastic Gastric Function "Spastic Gastric Function" is the social event of the year, bathe your Clydesdales in lite beer... Homeo-apathy as a viable career? Flaccid pansies? I'd eat them gladly. Anteaters play clarinets, from the trunks of blue corvettes, the... (11/25/02) |