i bought you a house
i bought you a car
but the thing that i bought that
you like most by far
are your rubber boobs
and i hate them
your boobs were just B's
but they knew how to please
all bouncy and smooshy and pert
but god knows why
you wanted to try
to get boobs that were rigid and hurt
you told me they'd help you
recapture your youth
but they've only helped me
to chip a tooth
they are ugly and
they are yucky
so i want to say
"No fucky fucky!"
when your hooters were cuter i wanted you pooter
but now those huge knockers are only cock blockers
they're bags of jelly
that perch on your belly
and now that you have them
i'd rather watch telly
than play around with your
firm
immobile
eternally perky
most unsavory
completely inanimate
gross
rubber
boobs
Rubber Boobs
The Lake of Innisfree
Though not in the vapid style of the rest of this blog, I want to share a video I found this morning. It's William Butler Yeats and "The Lake of Innisfree". This guy on YouTube made a bunch of videos with old recordings, many of poetry readings. Not all of them work, but this one's pretty mesmerizing.
I wish the mouth weren't moving because it looks ridiculous, but if you just listen to it, it captures... something.
Weekend, Tonys, shittiness.
I was supposed to do this big hilarious post about my weekend and the Tonys, and you were going to laugh, but I'm soooo beyond tired. I didn't sleep last night because I went to bed at one and my body said NO YOU CANNOT SLEEP UNTIL THREE and then my cat said NO YOU CANNOT SLEEP UNTIL THREE THIRTY so I put my cat in the bathroom and she said IF YOU KEEP ME IN HERE I WILL ROLL AROUND IN THE LITTER BOX AND YOWL AND SHRED THE TOILET PAPER AND YOU WILL NEVER SLEEP AGAIN so I murdered her in my head over and over and counted them until I finally got to sleep, bludgeoning one decapitation two gradual starvation while I dangle raw fish just out of reach THREE HOW'S IT TASTE BITCH!?!?!
So I'm in a crappy mood and I don' thave much to say about the Tonys anyway. I learned a lot about Christine Ebersole and how awesome she is. (Link to YouTube. I'm a work, so I can't watch this and find out what it is, but it leads to all sorts of Grey Gardens clips.) No power on this earth will keep my from this show.
I also learned that bland performances are considered acceptable and that people can be tricked into liking Spring Awakening when shown the only 3 minutes of the show that were actually bearable I PROMISE YOU NO MATTER WHAT YOU THOUGHT OF THE PERFORMANCE THE REST WAS SHITTY FIVE BILLION AWARDS OR NOT except ok, that guy who won for best actor in a featured role was good, so he deserved his award and also maybe I want to have sex with him a little bit.
I'll try to stop using caps lock run on sentences to express myself, I'm more refined than that because I have so much class.
Other features of the weekend include, but are not limited to the following:
- I saw Knocked Up and it was good and true to life and hilarious except the part with the yucky thing.
- I had brunch and it took infinity plus forever minutes to get our food, but it was super fun and there were important mimosas.
- I passed out in a bar because I am either irresponsible, date-rapable, diseased, or a starving orphan. It was really embarassing, but I felt fine right after. Don't worry, nothing bad happened, I did a scan. Two kidneys, two testicles, in-tact rectum. No harm no foul.
That's all, that's the recap. Also, I invented a new genre of poetry today during the Boringest Meeting in Boresville. The genre is called "shitty poetry" and it goes a little something like this:
Shitty Meeting : a shitty poem
This is the boringest meeting ever.
If you wonder when it will end, it is never.
This woman will not shut her mouth.
She makes me want to migrate south.
This man sounds like an ass.
I will make fritters from his hulking mass.
If this meeting does not end soon,
I will set off fireworks in this room.
The new presenter is really hot.
Ugly and boring he is not.
I am imagining having sex with him.
After the meeting I will say "Stick it in!"
But other than that, this meeting is snore city.
And that is why it is shitty, shitty, shitty.
I guess I'm a great writer after all. If you like the poem, you can set it to music and we can have a campfire sing-along.