Tits are in the Eye of the Beholder

by Ty Higgins

January 6, 2003

I think that I shall never pass
a 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

“Yawn and the world yawns with you. Fart and you fart alone.”

-Dr. Filbert

Fortune 500 Cookie

Stop taking it so personally when everyone tells you how ugly you are. At least you're getting noticed. That breakfast cereal you made out of Tic Tacs sure has helped your breath, but next week our crystal ball shows a diagnosis for cancer of the everything. They say dogs are a good judge of character, and even dogs don't like your screenplay. This week's lucky Tims: Tiny Tim, Spazzy Tim, Him Tim, Tim and Tim Again, Phantom Tim, Tim Saved in a Bottle.

Try again later.

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Thug Life
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