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)

Milestones

131 B.C.: Roman inventor Pontius creates love accidentally while trying to come up with a perfume that staves off homosexuality. Anyone who disagrees, we invite them to tell us who created love then.

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Barber. Staff barber sought to keep heads neat and trim, faces clean shaven, and reduce hippieness by at least 30%. Own scissors and weird Vitalis smell a plus. Controversial "tell-it-like-it-is" barbers need not apply.

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