Wiggly, jiggly, big and bouncy or a champagne glass aesthetic,
But if you’re not happy with them you can get them done synthetic.
And if you are conversing, a girlfriend might think it rude,
If she’s talking with her mouth while you’re listening to her boobs.
Men think if they had them there really is no way,
They’d ever leave the house they’d just play with them all day.
My husband thinks they ‘re made for him so don’t tell him God gave me,
These wonders of creation so that I could feed a baby.


Napowrimo Entry #10

The White Trash Palette

Blogging is challenging because, not only do you have to write well, but you have to engage your audience.

I wrote this poem for my husband not too long ago. I, of course, thought it was HILARIOUS.  And then I asked myself, I said, “Myself, does anyone really care that my husband is worth his weight in saturated fats?” Probably not. But today is our 13th wedding anniversary. So this one’s for him. And if you like it, that’s cool too.

Oh, and don’t try to tell me I’m not romantic.

Some husbands got money,
Some husbands got talent,
I think I landed me the best,
When I got the White Trash Palette.

Don’t need no GPS for fast food chains,
He knows just where to go,
If he don’t know the locations,
He sniffs them out with his nose.

It’s like the golden gates of heaven part,
When we step inside,
Cause he’s the White Trash Palette,
And he does it deep fried.

He’s eaten more burgers,
Then the Earl of Sandwich,
Burger King is his servant,
Ronald McDonald is his bitch.

He’s hanging with Carls Jr.,
And he’s getting macho,
With Jack in The Box,
And upper management at Del Taco.

Don’t need to ask how to take my meals,
I know that he’s the boss,
He’s the connoisseur of french fries,
And he gots the special sauce.

And when it comes to lovin’,
We take that magic ride,
Cause he’s the White Trash Palette
And he does it deep fried.


Las Vegas, NV 4/28/2001


Napowrimo Entry #9

A Sunday Confession

I always try to be polite,

To hold the door and do what’s right,

All this but a masquerade,

For what goes on inside my brain.

Thoughts acted on would guarantee,

Crimes far worse than hypocrisy,

Superficial or filled with rage,

Not appropriate for one my age.

And for being so juvenile,

My thoughts should probably go on trial,

No other sentence serves me so well,

To be condemned to rot in hell.



Napowrimo Entry #8

Underachiever Seeks Employment

Every day I go to work and do just what I’m told,
But the challenges that await me I feel are getting old.
There’s nothing innovative that might engage my noggin,
So I spend a good part of my day on the computer blogging.

But today something happened, something awfully strange,
But what’s that in the air? I think I smell a change.
The boss says I’m doing great, with that much I am pleased,
But he says he knows of a way our income will be increased!

He talks of making more money so all our wallets will be fatter,
And perhaps he is expecting me to climb the corporate ladder.
Putting me in charge of people and if what he says is true,
We’ll all be livin’ large due to increased revenue.

A better life for all of us with income that is steady,
But for me to live the corporate life I don’t think I am ready.
If these changes come into play, think of all the stress,
So instead I will seek a job doing what I do best.

So please let me know if you hear of any openings for a job,
Where an underachiever like me can sit on my ass and blog.




Napowrimo Entry #7

Potty Mouth

When my children were born,
I tried to be caring,
And I swore I would.
Swear off swearing.

But my anecdotes,
Just wouldn’t work,
When I could call my boss,
No more than a jerk.

And the F word,
Couldn’t be duplicated,
In all it’s glory by using,

The stuff on the floor,
Became just that – stuff,
And the expression shoot,
Not quite strong enough.

It was difficult to give people,
Insulting one liners,
Capped off by calling them penises,
And vaginas.

So I’ll go with ‘fuck off’,
Rather than ‘beat it’,
And hope that my children,
Never repeat it.



Napowrimo Entry #7

The Blind Date From Hell

He said he resembled Brad Pitt somewhat
More like Nick Nolte in his mug shot.

And I wonder if that’s his real hair or his real teeth,
Or if he really likes listening to music and long walks on the beach.

He says his Rolls Royce is in the shop, and it’s just bad luck,
That we have to drive around in this Chevy pick up.

He said he was 34, looks more like 43
And if he’s rolling in the cash, why are we at Applebee’s?

And now he’s standing at the door, attempting a seductive grin
I suppose he’s hoping he’ll be invited in.

A door slammed in his face may be all that he deserves
But I think instead, “What the hell, I’ve done worse.”


Napowrimo Entry #6

An Ode To Marijuana Edibles

I don’t know if it’s the chocolate taste,
Or if it’s the tobacky,
Whatever it is, all well and good,
If it makes my husband happy.

It tastes great and reduces stress,
Some may say it’s healthy,
All that not accounting,
For the mounting of his belly.

And I really hope he’s being neat,
Cause if he’s making crumbs, We
will end up with some rodents,
Who are acting awful funny.


Napowrimo Entry # 5 

A Message To The Other Woman

I don’t think I can take it,
I really had enough,
You keep calling the house,
But when I answer you hang up.

My husband says you’re just a stupid kid,
And that you will stop soon,
But you never hang up on him,
Though sometimes he takes it in the other room.

I wonder if you’d just hold on,
For a great need has arisen,
And I have so much to say,
If you would only listen.

I’d tell you about my children,
They are healthy, they are happy,
And I would tell you how very much,
Those kids love their daddy.

I’d tell you how joyful we once were,
Such a perfect match,
And how everything will be better,
When we get over this rough patch.

I’d tell you how it feels,
To sit around and wait,
For him to come home,
When he says he’s working late.

I have faith in something bigger,
And I can still believe,
He wasn’t lying when he told me,
He would never leave.

I can tell you about the dreams we had,
And all the things we did,
But oh why would I tell you all that?
You’re just a stupid kid.


NaPoWriMo Entry #4