Yours Fun Portal !
If at first you dont succeed, fuck the world and smoke some weed.
If your girl doesnt wanna have sex, ditch her ass and go to the
next.
If you ever catch your girl cheating, bash the guys head till
his brains start leaking.
If your car starts to smell fishy, tell the girl to go wash her
pussy.
If your girl says with her your stuck, then my boy you are truly
fucked!!
Adam wore a fig leaf.
Eve wore none at all.
The fun began in autumn,
When the leaves began to fall.
Now I lay me down to sleep, I pray for a man who’s not a creep
One who’s handsome, smart and strong
One who’s willy is thick and long
One who thinks before he speaks
When he promises to call, won’t wait weeks
I pray that he is gainfully employed
And when I spend his cash he won’t be annoyed
Pulls out my chair and opens my door
Massages my back and begs to do more
Oh send me a man who makes love to my mind
Knows just what to say when I ask, “how big’s my behind”?
One who’ll make love till my body’s a twitchin
In the hall, the loo, the garden and kitchen
I pray that this man will love me no end
And never attempts to shag my best friend
And as I kneel and pray by my bed
I look at the shithead you sent me instead!!! Amen
A young couple with a young boy were in an aeroplane that was
going down, fast. There were three parachutes, the pilot had
already taken off with one.
The couple had a dilema, wone they got their parachutes on, they
couldn’t hold on to the child. After a few seconds thought, they
decide to save thir own skins.
The couple parachute out, then, after they land, start walking
home. And to their great surprise, their child was sitting in
the living room watching the television.The couple stuttered for
a while, then asked him, how did you get here.
The boy turned from the television, then with a huge grin on his
face, replied.
“Me no silly, me no dumb, me hold on to Daddys bum, daddy
farted, I went zoom, that’s how I got home so soon!”
Role role role a joint
Have a swig of whine
Take a tote
Hold that smoke
And blow your fucking mind…
Poem spotted in an El Paso bathroom:
Here I set with my cheecks a flexing.
Damn, I just gave birth to another Texan.
There once was a man in a crash. His balls were made out of brass. He
climbed up a ladder in really bad weather and lightning shot out of his
ass.
Oh SPAM! Oh SPAM! Gourmet delight!
My food by day, my dreams by night.
To carve, to slice, to dice you up –
pureed in a blender and sipped from a cup.
What shining deity from Olympus knelt
down to the earth and hog butt smelt?
Creating then man’s eternal desire
for swine entrails congealed by fire.
On some corporate farm, a pig has died.
Eyes, tongue, and snout end up inside
that cube of SPAM hidden in the can
I now hold in my trembling hand.
More than mere food, SPAM is for me
a hedonistic expression of gluttonous glee.
Mottled with pork fat, the pink cube engrosses.
My mouth takes it in, my intestine disposes.
Long have my arteries clogged to the sound
of sizzling SPAM when there’s no one around –
furtively chewing or swallowing whole.
Triple bypass by forty, my medical goal.
Other processed meat products I’ve tried or declined
Vienna Sausages, Treet, even pig’s feet in brine.
Though each may be tasty in different ways,
none matches SPAM for gelatinous glaze.
That glistening pinkness beckons me
with gristle, fat, and BHT.
Oh SPAM, my SPAM – the taste, the smell!
The sacred meat product, from Hormel.
‘Twas the night before Christmas,
Da whole house was mellow,
Not a creature was stirrin’,
I had a gun unda my pillow.
When up on da roof’
I heard somethin’ pound,
I sprung to da window,
To scream, “YO! Keep it down!”
When what to my
Wanderin’ eyes should appear,
But dat hairy elf Vinny,
And eight friggin’ reindeer.
Wit’ a bad hackin’ cough,
And da stencha burped beer,
I knew in a moment
Yo, da Kringle wuz here!
Wit’ a slap to dere snouts,
And a yank on dere manes,
He cursed and he shouted,
And he called dem by name.
“Yo Tony, Yo Frankie,
Yo Sally, Yo Vito,
Ay Joey, Ay Paulie,
Ay Pepe, Ay Guido!”
As I drew out my gun
And hid by da bed,
Down came his boot
On da top a my head.
His eyes were all bloodshot,
His b.o. wuz scary,
His breath wuz like sewage,
He had a mole dat wuz hairy.
He spit in my eye,
And he twisted my head,
He soon let me know
I should consider myself dead.
Den pointin’ a fat finga
Right unda my nose,
He let out some gas,
And up da chimney he rose.
He sprang to his sleigh,
…..screaming,
And away dey all flew,
Before he troo dem a beatin’.
But I heard him exclaim,
Or better yet grump,
“Merry Christmas to all, and
Bite me, ya hump!”
To the tune of “I believe I can fly”.
I believe I can die
I’ll fall from the fucking sky
And when I hit the cement ground
I will make an awful sound
I believe I’ll feel sore
When I run into the fucking doooor
I believe I can die
I believe I can die
I believe I can die
ODE TO A POTTY BREAK
by John Clogger
I sit so quietly in class
Until I feel this pain of gas
Which stabs intestines large and small:
“I hope that there’s an empty stall!”
Or I can be in bed at nine
And dreaming of a girl so fine
When I awake! A siren wails
From in my gut and my entrails!
In either case I must agree
I always have to shit and pee!
But why? For now I’ll contemplate….
….And urinate and defecate!
If I can just ignore the smell,
I’ll try my best to do them well.
Now to avoid those accidents,
Pull down your pants, you gals and gents.
Unsnap the top, unzip the fly,
And let them fall down past your thigh,
And plant your butt cheeks on the seat,
And–Oh my God! My heart is weak!
This seat’s an iceberg, minus ten!
As cold as liquid nitrogen!
This morning cold is just the worst,
But at least I get to use it first!
And now here comes the easy part:
You must fire off a warning fart
To let them know the bombs will fall–
Forget about the other stall!
Let Nature do the rest; sit back
And let the shit fall out your crack!
It’s fecal matter–hey, goodbye!
Exit out my bottom eye!
And while I’m here, I might as well
Excrete my urine, what the hell!
It takes one minute for a piss,
But just be sure that you don’t miss!
Don’t hit the walls or hit the doors.
The janitors hate yellow floors.
Now get your strength back; you’ll be strong.
When all that stress and strain is gone,
You’ll have to wipe your fundament
And clean the excess excrement!
Just use that roll of mini towels,
Protects your hands and cleans your bowels….
Unless the stuff’s just too damn soft
And rips so easily enough
That fingers go right straight on through,
Then my poor hand gets smeared with doo!
I want some stuff that’s strong and fair,
That lets me know that it was there
A couple hours after use,
So nothing gets left hanging loose.
Yes, toilet paper–that’s the stuff!
And damn, I hope I’ve got enough
For one wipes, two wipes, three wipes, four!
Five wipes, six wipes, seven, more!
Now push the handle; it goes down
Into the sewer underground
To give the sewer rats a treat.
It’s good enough for them to eat!
Or it will help the grass to rise,
But now, I must zip up my fly,
Do up my pants, connect my belt.
I must admit, I haven’t felt
This good since this time yesterday!
My shitting then went A-OK!
Now some clean people wash their hands.
But me? Hell no! I’ll take the chance!
I must rush off to get some lunch,
Some finger food that I can munch!
Oh crap! My ode is almost done.
The time sure flies when you have fun.
I hope you loved my words so true
About a thing we all must do.
Starkle, starkle, little twink,
who the hell are you I think?
I’m not under what you call
the alcofluence of incohol.
I’m just a little slort of sheep,
I’m not drunk like thinkle peep.
I don’t know who is me yet,
but the drunker I stand here,
the longer I get.
So, just give me one more fink to drill my cup,
cause I got all day sober to Sunday up.