Vaginal Scrape!

by Lindsay Green

February 9, 2004

Vaginal scrape!

Me!

Today!

Hot damn hot damn, get out of my way!

I've got a date with Mr. Goodtimes.
And the raindrops can't hit my ass
Because I'm moving too fast.

Take me home, Doctor Proctor.
The evening shall be gynecotacular!

That thing's going to be clean enough
To host a picnic inside, I tell you what.
Health inspectors will declare
"It's spotless in there!"

Mark my words and word to Mark:
It's gonna whistle when I run!
Everybody's gonna ask, "What's up Lindsay?
You sound like a rusty swingset today!"

I could tell them why but I just won't say
I'm just gonna smile and wink
Like a sly fox with a nice clean pink...
You know.

Because it's my secret
(me and the lucky ducks who've read my poem, that is!)

Scrape off that nasty plaque, Dr. Squeak.
Break out the masonry trowel or whatever
You gotta use to lose those blues!

(Though I think he might have to use the chimney brush since I haven't been in a while)

Quote of the Day

“I never met a man I didn't like, want to kill.”

-Dill "California Angst" Wongers

Fortune 500 Cookie

You will fall in love with a new douche this week, a fact that unfortunately has nothing at all to do with feminine hygiene. Try to pay more attention to your figure: word on the street is you're upgrading from "pear-shaped" to "sack of shit-y." You will finally come to understand the phrase "fifteen men on a dead man's chest" this week, thanks to an unfortunate dogpile mishap. Your lucky perfumes: Colonic for Men, Goat's Dong, Eau Du Crapper.

Try again later.

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