Jugs of Ben & Jerry’s

The fine folks at PETA want Ben & Jerry’s Ice Cream to stop using Cow’s milk and start using human breast milk.  People sell Plasma all the time to support the medical world (and for cash).  Why not start selling breast milk too?  Would there be milking stations? Downtown, across the tracks there’s a sign that says “Got Breast Milk?”, that is where lactating women can go and make some quick cash.

At least the milk used now at B&J is free of Bovine Growth Hormones (BGH), it would be difficult to control what is consumed by the lactating women who sell their milk.  Crack mommies need money more than that pregnant white girl walking into Target (or is that a sterotype?  Can you be on crack and shop at Target? or maybe you have to be on crack to shop at Target!)  Will these women be free range, allowed to eat whatever and wherever they want or will they be fed a strict diet?

Tropical flavored ice cream will come from the woman who only eats papaya, mango, and pineapple.  We all know that B&J does not have traditional flavors.  B&J is known for peculiar combination of flavors with wacky names.  Chubby Hubby, Phish Food, Cherry Garcia, and Chunky Monkey are just some of the most popular B&J ice cream.

Here are some of the new “flavors” using human breast milk:

Boob-Berry

Nipplepolitan

Cherry Aerola

Cheesecake Mammories

Double D Chocolate

Momma’s Melons Sorbet

Mastec-Tommy’s Frozen Yogurt (now with half the fat!)

White Chocolate Wetnurse

Lemon Lactate

Titillating Strawberry

The list will go on and on.  Maybe this product will take off like “bazoongas” or maybe the sales will be flat.

A little moustache never hurt anyone.

I know you hate me like Hitler, but kissing your sister is nothing like killing jews.  A little bit of tongue three or four times is nothing like taking 6 million lives.

I know she is blond and blue eyed but those 6 million people died.

I may be hot for her, but that does not mean I want to put her in an incinerator.

(work in process)

Womans worth (Hers and His)

Hers:

How can I get my feet on the ground without putting my legs in the air?  What does it take to get ahead without giving head?  How can I be a woman without giving up my womanhood?  Why does the man continue to keep me down?  What will it take to prove that this is indeed mine and not yours?  Do you understand that I am more than what you see between these thighs?  Read my lips, don’t watch my hips.  They say I have the best ass below 14th street, but what about the rest of me?  Look into my left eye and travel towards my soul.  See what is real and what is beyond what you see.  Tell me not what I want to hear, but what you have to say.  Look beyond-not behind.

His:

How can I get her legs in the air?  Will she go down on me in a theatre?  Give it up…you know you want it!  Those hips and those lips tell me so.  Long live those thighs.  The eyes are only a diversion to get into those pants.  I will tell you what you want to hear…anything to get a piece of that behind!

Mine:

Tortured and tattered souls are more than skin deep.  Loosen the lips and move the hips.  Sway to the sounds of listening.  Spread the word.

Where worlds collide

“Take the last train out of town. Meet me in 3 months.  You will know where to find me.”

That was the last I heard from Kate.

Ok, listen bitch, what train is last?  Is it the last one for the night, the week, the month?  Is it heading north, east, west, south, or some other combination of the that NEWS directional scenario?

Is that 3 months from when I find the train?  Three months from now?  Three months from then?  Time is of the essence.  I may not wear a watch and if I did wear a watch that watch would only report hours, minutes, seconds and maybe the date, but definitely will not calculate 3 months from an unknown starting point.  Do I ride the rails until the conductor tells me to leave?

Once I figure out what train to get on and when and where to get off, how will I know where to find you?  Is there a tracking device in that watch that I don’t wear?  Do we have some GI Joe connection? Are we the Crimson Twins? Are you Xamot and am I Tomax?  Does my junk look like your junk?  I have no confidence that I will know where to find you.  My middle name is Garvin not Garmin.

Kate, I am starting to think that you are not being straight with me.  This is going to be the last time that I approach anyone in a bar.  I simply asked if you come here often and just wanted to know if we could meet again for drinks in a place that isn’t so well… lit.

Maybe a place where the drinks are stiff and the lights make me look cute and you look less like a bitch!

Kiss my ass Kate.

Down about Trig

So Sarah Palin is talking about all of the “extras” that she has given to the people of Alaska.  These are not just for the common people, she has even given an “extra” to her son…an extra chromosome!

Whats his name?  Stunt? Prop? Corky?

When he was born, he had that look like he was faced with the hardest math question ever.  So of course, his name is appropriate:  Trig!

Sleep Happens

Mental alram clocks always have to go off at the wrong time.  Where is the snooze button in the brain?  Doc said get 8-10 hours of sleep per night.  Do it naturally he said, “Read a book under soft light, do not watch tv, do not excercise before bed, go to bed at the same time each night, masturbate to the sounds of Manilow, do not eat before bed, drink a glass of warm milk”.

Maybe I should sing a lullaby…

Summertime, and the living is easy

Fish are jumping, and the cotton is high

Your daddy’s rich, and your ma is good looking

So hush little baby, don’t you cry.

That reminds me of my future plans to find a Sugar Daddy and live off his money…  Then the mind wanders and I forget about sleeping and I start planning my episode of “Cribs” where I show the world my Sugar Daddy’s Cristal filled bidet.  Yes, when I poop I want to clean my dirty ballon knot with Cristal.  That’s how I roll… without TP.

…or repeat a sleepy prayer.

Now I lay me down to sleep, pray the lord my soul to keep, if I should die before I wake I pray the lord my soul to take

Maybe thats the problem.  I can’t sleep because I am afraid that my soul is going to be taken in the night.  I sleep with one eye open waiting for this thief to sneak into my room taking my Al Green, Marvin Gaye, and Aretha CD’s.  Please don’t take my Dolemite DVD.  I love that Rudy Ray Moore and Queenie.  If I catch that Soul thief, I will go ghetto and bust that mofo all up in the grille.

I can’t write anything else. I must be trying too hard, or maybe that sleep thing isn’t so overrated.  I just might try it out and take my black ass to bed.

I guess its time to get some milk and go to the “Copacabana” and think about that “Weekend in New England ” I had with “Mandy”.

The Rabbit Died

“-=+” or as I recently found out, “Less equals More”, but what about pregnancy tests?

I’ve been thinking about pregnancy tests (but not for the obvious reason).  The standard “+” and “-” indicate pregnant or not pregnant (or is it not pregnant and pregnant?)  If trying to get pregnant, the “+” indeed is a plus.  Yes, the ovulation calculation and the sperm contribution worked!!!

What if you are not trying to get pregnant?  What if you are a woman, who hooks up with some dude one morning in line at Starbucks?  “You’re having a Venti Skinny Half Mocha Half Vanilla Latte too?  You are my Starbucks soul mate, lets do it!”  (I ask, “Do you want whipped cream on that?”)   Lets just say thats how you roll, and some sperm slips past the fallopian goalie.  In 6 weeks, when the smell of your usual VSHMHV Latte makes you want to hurl endlessly, its time to get one of those $20 pee sticks.  If the sex was as hot as the coffee, but the timing is not right, the standard “+” is truly a minus.

I suggest a new label system for pregnancy tests.  Yes I wanna get pregnant! versions and Hell No! Babies cramp my style more that the first day of my menstrual cycle (Sunday Bloody Sunday) versions.  If you want to reproduce and bring a child into this already over populated world, then the Yes I wanna get pregnant! version is for you.    That “+” means a head will be crowning through your mommy parts in 9 short months.

If babies are just not your thing baby, then  Hell No! Babies cramp my style more that the first day of my menstrual cycle (Sunday Bloody Sunday) is just what you need.  That “+” means those mommy parts will be ready for some random guilt free coffee shop sex without the threat of a well endowed young man poking the fetus in the top of the head for the next 2 trimesters.

While we are at it and offering suggestions to P&G, how about other Pee Sticks that offer medical updates of the fetus.  An extra chromosome will indicate Down Syndrome.  A ruby red slipper will indicate the baby as a “friend of dorothy”.  Long fringe bangs brushed to one side of the face indicate an EMO baby.  A picture of Pete Wentz will indicate all of the above.

crappy free verse from yester-year

Kick back loosen your foot

Dance the night away

Do that dirty sway

Calgon is the only way

To keep the dirt from

Building up your stress

Get it off your back

Fight the slack

Generation X-Why?

Do your own and

Only yours who cares

Why ask please

Don’t dirty your knees

Unknowingly you do

Car flirting is an ego boost

Casually driving your car, listening to XM 47 with no care in the world.  Hands on 9 and 3 (10 and 2 is so…3 years ago), bopping your head singing along to The Ting Tings (or whatever your aural pleasure may be) when you see a cutie approach from the opposite direction.  If car A is traveling south at 55 mph and car B is traveling north at 55 mph, the distance for facial recognition is minimal.  Raise a hand from the 9 position for the wave.  Go ahead, throw in a quick wink to solidify your confidence.

Maybe that driver will wonder “who the hell was that?”, but if the timing is right that driver will smile and possibly wink in return saying “I don’t know who the hell that is, but damn he is cute; even with that wonky eye”.

A quick smile, a wave, a wink, an air kiss, a lick of the lips, a thrust of the hips, a pump of the fist, or a combination of these actions; we all can do it (personal physical or mental limitations may occur).

Do not turn your car around and head south traveling at 54 MPH.  Do not follow your Flirting Friend.  Just keep it as a quick fling…let it go.  No fear of a car chase or a restraining order.  You don’t want to find out if that cutie face is sitting at the top of a pear shape.

Flirting while driving is the pacifist response to road rage.  Put down your cell phone, stop texting and start flirting with your fellow drivers.