There are 300 urinals present.
Just the first and last are used at all.
If one of those two isn’t open
Non-sociopaths use a stall.
Tag Archives: Men
But Both Are Equally Boring When Presented By The Intellectual Elite
I questioned the need
For vagina monologues.
Why we needed them was a mystery.
Then I realized
That the penis dialogues
Was basically just all of history.
Filed under Poems
The Answer, At Last!
All the single ladies
Ask where all the good men went,
Dreaming of the good old days
When the six-foot-plus millionaires
Without egos or exes
Would contact them conveniently
And buy them stuff
All without leaving the house.
Meanwhile the six-foot-plus
Drama-free millionaires
Are in their basements
Roleplaying car thieves
And writing bad poetry blogs.
You’re welcome.
Filed under Poems
The Solvers and The Havers
Most men enjoy solving problems;
It gives them a meaningful life.
Alas, this is not something wanted
By most men’s eventual wife.
A man will fix up an auto,
A house, a business, a toy,
But it’s not solving problems but having them
That I’ve noticed most women enjoy.
A woman takes pleasure in saying
“I’m hungry, I’m tired, I’m gross,”
Because other women say “me too”
And by such connection grow close.
If a man tells another “I’m hungry”
Another will say “have a snack”
And the problem is solved with five words
And the men to their task may go back.
Now the trouble occurs when the solvers
Treat problem-lovers the same:
A woman says “I’m bored,” and the man
Says “go play a video game.”
Now if the woman obeys him
She’ll prob’ly no longer be bored
And thus need another discomfort
Until her drama-quota’s restored,
So the man has given a solution
Which really won’t help her a bit
So she says “you don’t understand me!”
And runs off and calls him a git.
The man is confused by her answer
But has a solution to that:
He says to himself “bitch be crazy”
And then changes the sink in his flat.
So men, if you want to help women
Be happy then here’s what to do:
Have lots of flaws in your character
So she’ll always have drama with you.
And women, you know how to please a man
And don’t need advising from me,
But (as a man I must say this)
Without drama how happy you’ll be!
Filed under Poems
Back When Some Men Weren’t Rapists
I remember yesterday
When to look at someone was okay,
When an elbow or a shoulder touch
Didn’t mean nearly so much.
I remember yesterday
When a compliment would make her day,
When “you look nice” was not a slur
When casually said by him to her.
I remember yesterday
When a man held doors and asked to pay,
When a bit of gentle care
Was not met with a dour glare.
I remember yesterday
When a guy could idly say
“What’s your number?” and not fear
Her screaming “rape” for all to hear.
So if you remember yesterday
In the aforementioned way
And know its loss would lead to sorrow
Let’s keep the past in mind tomorrow.
Filed under Poems
They Probably Met Online
Sharp and cold’s the flashing rain
Upon my black umbrella
Which I relinquish happily
Unto my new love, Stella.
Now her springtime golden tress
Is dry as my nervous mouth
For my journey takes me northward
While she vacantly looks south.
I stammer “what’s your number?”
As an adolescent might,
And I’ll never forget her eyes,
Dark blue just like the night.
“First you give me this thing,”
She says towards my umbrella,
“Then follow me for blocks
“Like I’m some sort of Cinderella?
“I won’t give you my number
“And I beg you, leave me be!”
Then she closed my umbrella
And thrust it into me.
And in that painful moment,
Twice breathless made am I
For my heart says “Dude, she saw you!”
Though my gut tells me to cry.
Thus as my tears join eagerly
The gutter’s growing moat
I wish her path be free of puddles
For I cannot lay down my coat.
Filed under Poems
Close Encounters
I met her on the corner
Somewhere ’round midnight
She wore next to nothing
And held a red light.
She said “it’s $100 an hour”
Just so you know.
I gave her a dime
And said “guess I’ll go slow.”
Filed under Poems
The Stakes Are Low And The Cakes Are Dry
I baked a cake in the microwave,
Forgot my keys, chose not to shave.
I wore white jeans after labor day
And yet somehow I’m still okay.
I woke up at 6:00 and stayed in bed ’til noon,
Thinking both times were a bit too soon.
I left dishes in the sink and clothes on the line
Yet somehow the world turned out just fine.
I freudian-slipped that Rosebud was a sled
And nobody minded or ended up dead.
I’ve done this and more and I won’t lie:
It’s great to be a single guy!
Filed under Poems
Romance, California Style
It may have been love
If that’s what you call it,
‘Cause I liked her tits
And she liked my wallet.
As it turned out later
Hers and mine were both fake
But we both loosed our hair buns
And took what we could take.
Filed under Poems
The Daily Travesty 