Tag Archives: Gross

Rape Culture?

I was the star of my football team

Through high school and beyond.

I was six-foot four, 400 pounds…

When I walked I shook the floor.

When I got to college

I tried out for the offensive line

But apparently “make me a sandwich”

Had been used, and I was declined.

I dieted, I exercised,

I worked both day and night.

I dropped to a mere 250 pounds

And practiced catching right.

I came back my sophomore year

And became the team’s tight end.

I got a jersey and a girlfriend.

I thought my life was on the mend.

But, through football player logic,

I thought some heads needed a dent.

The police disagreed with me

So off to jail I went.

Now four years later I return,

No longer a brawler or deceiver.

You may go to jail a tight end

But you return a wide receiver.


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Still Better Than Veganism

Were I a can of cheese

Sitting softly on the shelf

I would live a peaceful life,

Like a stereotypical fantasy elf.

I would not fear to be consumed,

Nor to expire or lose my hair.

I would be orange and insubstantial,

Pressured only by compressed air.

And then one fateful afternoon

Should someone spread me out

And eat me, I can surely say

I’ll probably make them pout.

Yes, the life of cheese-in-a-can

Is an underrated goal:

Such is my conclusion.

I hope you found this droll.

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Life Without Makeup

Chapped lips, dry skin,

Hair without a bobby pin,

Baggy pants, hairy pits,

A shirt that hides any sign of tits,

Spotty face, mustache line,

Eau de toilette called “big ass pine,”

A house that others call a sty:

Just another great day of being a guy!

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Why I Never Got Together With That Cute Girl In Class

What wonder has a flower,

A daisy or a rose,

To the clueless human

As on its way it goes?

A work of nature, beautiful,

Is worth not but a glance

For what interest has a human

In the idle ways of plants?

But a very ugly flower

That can nauseate by sight,

That makes you want to kick a baby,

Draw attention that just might.

So when you see the spiders

Crawling from my bloodshot eyes

I seek your fondness and attention.

‘Twas not that so very wise?

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No Accounting For Taste (97% Fiction)

Four days ago I wrote a post

That said my throat was sore.

It still is and I’m tired

And I’m snowed-in and I’m bored.

I’m wearing just a bathrobe

That’s drenched in day-old phlegm.

Still no luck with the gals on Tinder…

Well, I don’t know what’s wrong with them.

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72 Days Too Late

“Best by November 2016”

Was on my salad dressing.

I shook my head as I poured it on

And hoped that Kraft was guessing.

Now my life goes with the flow

And I eat only undressed veggies.

On the bright side never anymore

Do people give me wedgies.

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I Made Them For You!

Goats don’t make good rolling pins:

That’s how this recipe begins.

They kick and spit and stomp and bray

But my cookies taste fine anyway.

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