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“My love is like a red, red wiiiine… go to my heaaaad… make me forgeeet… Wait. Sorry. My love is like a red, red rose… just like eeeeevery night has its daaaaaw- awawaaaan… Just like eeeevery cooowboy… Fuck.”-A.D.Dobbs Fortune 500 CookieClowns don't hate you, they just feel sorry for you. Your "Don't Worry, Be Slappy" series of self-help books finally broke the five-copy sales barrier this week, and just got you sued by the estate of Slappy White. This week's lucky strikes: Clover-Workers' Union, ump didn't see ball careen off batter's jock and through strike zone, killed them all while they were dreaming about killing you, threw your ex-wife's severed head down lane on accident.Try again later. 5 Spin-Offs That Died in Production
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) |