i think we have a winner on our hands!
finally,
after years of searching,
someone is willing to take their clothes off to be in my movie!
“i’m thrilled to introduce
the only one of us that i’m paying
to be a part of this voluntary production i’m arranging!”
what do you want for dinner tonight?
kobe beef?
i’m buying.
the rest of them, give ’em ramen with egg!
now stroke, stroke, stroke for Sadie Benning’s sake!
you find yourself, reader,
in wicked spirit
being led by my dangled carrot into a modern family home
that to the modern teen, may as well be a modern garrote –
her room, her bed, her throne –
Mom thinks there must be something going on
cause the smell from the dining room downstairs
reeks like a bong:
“but how do you know that, Miss Antoinette? are you sure?
“it’s because of the parties to which i’ve been lured.
i haven’t actually smoked any. don’t be so perturbed –
“well how would you know it was weed
unless you were standing so close to them you could see?
then wouldn’t it be in the air that you breathe?
hmmm?
do you need me to get you a cup
into which you can pee?
“i didn’t have any, OK? JEEZ.
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what is it exactly, inside of me
that makes me want to impregnate every girl that i see?
“some male bullshit” – i hear your decree,
but what makes a woman fill up a jar with her own pee?
the olive-coloured pant tells all.
even Justin Bieber can’t refute a rebuke
to this single truth
although you might catch him being proud –
especially the times when Hailey is around.
Those Baldwins are known to run afoul.
every nerve, every tendon –
enough visual information
to make a guy think he’s got you pegged.
a lighter-hued pant makes us less well-behaved
in public
while we stare at everything below the waist
that we can save for later in your wake
of our own partner’s haste.
another tale of misery and woe.
walking in a department store and what do i see?
at the end of aisle three,
at eye-level staring back at me, personally?
a giant picture of a hot woman’s ass on the box for an elliptical machine.
the power of publicity.
so i’m standing there, ogling,
trying to figure out what it means:
how did her lower body get to look so lean?
squat-lifting lumber? genes?
maybe she was hiding some cellulite i couldn’t see?
and let me tell you, she was under some pretty heavy scrutiny –
twelve-year-old me would be hiding behind a clothing rack
grinding off on some slacks,
that chick is stacked!
theory of a daskeman 