The Boss Came Home Early

Hey little girl is your daddy home
Did he go away and leave you all alone...
I got a bad desire
oooh-oooooh-ooooooh I'm on fire

Tell me now baby- Hey. Wait. Who is that at the door? Oh God. It's your guy. It's your man! QUICK - I need a place to hide! In the closet! Under the bed! In the basement? Oh no... he saw me... OH NO WHAT'S THAT HE HAS IN HIS HAND IT'S A GALLON OF GASOLINE AND A MATCH!

WHOAH! WHOAH! WHOAH! I'M ON FIRE! PUT ME OUT-PUT ME OUT! FOR THE LOVE OF GOD IT BURNS! OKAY! I ADMIT IT! YOU CAN DO THE THINGS THAT I CAN DO TO HER, TOO! MOST ANY GUY CAN! IT'S ALL REALLY ABOUT INTIMATE KNOWLEDGE OF THE OTHER PERSON AND CLEARLY YOU HAVE A DEEPER CONNECTION TO HER THAN I DO - PLEASE EXTINGUISH THE AGONIZING FLAMES COVERING 83% OF MY BODY!

... ... Thank you. *phew* Would you mind calling a burn unit? Thanks. What? No. No Advil - I hear it's bad for the kidneys. Some salve and some herbal tea would be nice... maybe a poultice... thanks.

Hairier than Captain Lou Albano

Lying in your bed, you think of me? Oh, I KNOW what you're doing in that bed. Let me tell you something: Not only do I disagree with you "thinking" alone in your bed - so does the Lord. That's right - THE LORD. Suitcases of memories, indeed... More like suitcases of PORN. You're going straight to hell with hairy palms, lady. If you're lost maybe you should find your way to a confessional and some penance you sick freak.

An aching head to be sure.

It's late in the evening; she's wondering what clothes to wear
She puts on her make-up; and brushes her long blonde hair
And then she asks me "Do I look all right?"

And I say: "No. we're a half hour late and I can see your roots."
And she's all "God dammit - you're such an asshole!"
And I'm like "Well you asked. You literally have four dresses - how difficult can it be to pick one?"
And she says "So sorry I don't wear the same fucking thing every single day."
And I'm all "It's not the same fucking thing! It's variations on the same theme!"
And she says "Hey dickweed - you're mom called - she said you suck!"
Me: "Oh yeah - well your Mom called and apologized for the cankle hand-me-downs."
Her: "Eat my shit."
Me: "Wow. Did they teach that in Finishing School or did you learn that little gem at a truck stop glory hole?"
Her: "Funny. Let's just fucking go already."
Me: "That's what I'm saying!"

We go to a party and everyone turns to see
This beautiful lady that's walking around with me

And then she asks me, "Do you see all those guys staring?"
And I say, "Yes."
And she says, "Now you know what you've got. Keep your shit in line and go get me a drink."
Me: "Nice. Nice."

I Am Pretending

I'll stand by you at an Epsom Mad Funkers reunion concert. I'll stand by you waiting in line for Space Mountain. But honestly, you emit a strange odor. Sort of a sour milk meets severe halitosis type bouquet. So those are pretty much the only two instances where I'd stand by you.

Also, I can't promise I won't let nobody hurt you. In a mugging situation it's every person for his or herself. And if somebody threw a rock at you, I wouldn't stop it - I have tender, childlike hands.

Oh, and I may in fact desert you at any time - for two reasons:

1) I like to keep my options open
2) I like to keep you on your toes

Good talk.

That wasn't a whisper you laid in my pillow...

It must have been lust, because it's over now
It must not have been THAT good, because you bolted out the door, without a second thought to post coital pillow chatter, mumbling something about "size DOES matter" and "what kind of 30-year-old sleeps in a twin bed..."

Well I got news for you! You left your bra.

MINE NOW.

It's a 187, Goose!

Let's just take a look at the "couplets" leading in to the chorus of this song:

Watching in slow motion
As you turn to me and say...

Take my breath away.

If only for today
I'm unafraid...

Take my breath away.

First of all, it's "not afraid."

Second of all - STOP TELLING YOUR BOYFRIEND TO MURDER YOU! It's just not becoming and quite frankly it's not on the list of desirable traits for anyone... except maybe serial killers.

The Wonders of a DEMON.

No New Year's Day? No April rain? What kind of strange beast-person can make days and rain disappear? For God's sake you're even stopping the birds from flying south. Birds have to fly south in the winter! That's what they do!

I just called to say stop fucking with birds and weather!

Let it Rain.

Talk to me - like lovers do...

Lover 1: Are you wearing socks?
Lover 2: Yeah - my feet are cold.
Lover 1: Take them off - that's just creepy.
Lover 2: Look - do you want me to be comfortable while we do this or is it all about you?
Lover 1: Oh - I'm sorry, I just don't want to feel like I'm in bed with a 78-year-old-man.
Lover 2: Fine. I'll take them off
ring-ring
Lover 2 (con't): Is that your phone?
Lover 1: It's my mother.
Lover 2: Well don't answer it!
Lover 1: It's my mother! (in to phone) Hello? Mom? No - this isn't a bad time
Lover 2: God Dammit!
Lover 1: Hold on a second, Mom. (to Lover 2) Hey! Where are you going with my Vanity Fair?
Lover 2: I bet Vanity Fair doesn't care if I wear socks.
Lover 1: Oh don't you dare! That's $90 face cream!
Lover 2: Tell your mother I say "hello."
door slams
Lover 1: (yells) You're disgusting! (in to the phone) Hi mom...

Kneel, Smash Monkee!

I thought love was only true in fairy tales. Then I realized love IS only true in fairy tales. But not a nice Disney fairy tale. No. A dismal and strange Hans Christian Andersen fairy tale where Love is a poor, ugly, mute, orphan boy whose only wish is to have a mother. Love makes a bargain with a Street Witch - She gives him a voice so he can seek out a mother, but for every woman that rejects him as her child, Love will sprout another toe. Love is rejected time and time again. Eventually the poor boy dies a 90 pound, fleshy lump of toes...

So when I saw her face - I ran like a god-damned mad man.

Just a plain pest.

Please. Don't wake me up before you go-go. I'm tired and this dream is saving me from the shame, indignity and lengthy, scrub-laden shower I would face if you, in fact, woke me up before you went-went.

Dirty Dancing, Indeed...

I had the time of my life and it lasted for about three months. Now I swear I've never felt THIS way before: Agitated, severe burning with urination, deep self loathing and a wish to return to my Catholic roots. I swear - it's the truth. And I owe a few things to you:

1) less room in my dresser drawer
2) A seething hatred for Grey's Anatomy
2) a two week prescription for powerful antibiotics


Thanks for the memories.

In Excess of Everything Stupid.

There are several things that could tear us apart:
1) Infidelity
2) Constant fighting
3) Lack of physical intimacy
4) An angry bear

But if I could actually make wine from your tears - I would suck on your face for eternity.

She was bald, not right.

It's been 7 hours and 15 days - I've had 135 hours of sleep, 16 breakfasts, 15 lunches and 15 dinners. Somewhere in there was a delicious, rare roast beef sandwich with blue cheese, frisee and caramelized red onions on a fresh baguette. I chased that beast down with a frosty pint of Guinness. That compared.

Roy Orbison wore prescription sunglasses.

Pretty Woman - I do believe you're pretty much exactly the truth. And to be honest, I've seen plenty other "ones" that look as good, if not better, than you.

Benny should've just left town...

Quite frankly, I would not walk 500 miles. And if I wouldn't walk the first 500, I most certainly wouldn't walk 500 more.