Tag Archives: humour

The Dirty Smurfette Poem

Alright…I’m back, after far, far too long.  These things happen, and both you readers will have to forgive me.   I wrote and performed this one about three months ago, in a fevered state (quite literally, I think close to 102 degree fever), and I think it really reflects that.  But seriously, fever or no fever, who hasn’t wanted to bang Smurfette.

Don’t forget to order a custom poem from Poetry To Go!

Audio Transcript of that time I had sex with Smurfette.

(0:00-2:22 – Fumbling noises)

Oh, oh yeah.

Oh Willie, that’s good.

You make me feel so…so smurfy.

Take off my dress—oh yeah.  Am I the bluest woman you’ve ever been with?

Now smurf me.

You know how this goes.

Smurf me.  Hard.

Just like that.

You’ve been a naughty little boy—naughtier than Gargamel.

Yes, yes, yes, yes, yes, smurf me there.  Smurf me there!

(3:08 – sound of electrical buzzing)

Now smurf me with this!

Ah, yeah, ah yeah, smurf me harder!

Smurf me! Smurf me! Smurf me, Handy!

(3:47 – sounds of footsteps leaving.)

No!  I didn’t mean Handy—I mean Willie.  Come back.

(3: 58 – sounds of footsteps returning)

Smurf me, Smurf me, Smurf me, Smurf me

Jesus Smurfing Christ!

Smurf me in the ass, you mothefucker!

I’m smurfing! I’m smurfing!

Now Take it out and smurf in my mouth!

That’s good.  That’s s0 good. You are so much better than Papa.

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Tips for Surviving the Robot Apocolypse

robotdeathpic

Tips for Surviving the Robot Apocalypse

Of all the types of horrible possible futures,

The Robot Apocalypse scares me the most

Let’s face it, a zombie apocalypse would be the worst,

But it’s pretty straightforward, survival wise.

A)Grab shotgun

B)Shoot Zombies

C)Run out of ammo and die horribly.

This I can handle. It might even be fun.

Holing up in shopping malls

Shooting Zombie celebrity chefs and politicians.

BAM! I just shot Zombie Jane Goody.

That’s how we do it downtown!

And I’m content to push a cart to the sea after the nuclear holocaust,

With a pistol and despair, fighting cannibals.

But the Robot Apocalypse is the great unknown

Because we made them, for the love of god

WE MADE THEM!

This is why, after hours of research on the internet

And episodes of The Sarah Conner Chronicles

I share with you, dear friends,

Tips for surviving the Robot Apocalypse

Tip #1

DO know the difference between a robot and a cyborg.

A Robot is entirely mechanical,

whereas a cyborg is a mechanically enhanced human.

Number Five is a robot

The Six Million Dollar Man is a cyborg.

Always kill the robots, and win over the cyborgs.

Because, hey, if you get tired of him, you can always sell the Six Million Dollar man,

And that’s six extra million dollars

Six million dollars

To survive the Robot Apocalypse

Tip #2

DON’T sleep with human resistance fighters sent back from the future to save you.

It may be hard, I know.
They may look like Micheal Biehn or Keira Knightly

They may have a picture of you from the past and tell you a story of how they fell in love with it.

They may even tell you, We don’t need protection, baby, in the future everyone’s sterile.

It’s lies, all lies, and you’ll make a baby that will be

a fucking ridiculous time paradox conundrum.

And you may well feel cheap in the morning.

Tip #3

DO locate your nearest steel processing and metal crushing plants.

The robots will be so intent on killing you, they won’t notice when you lure them in

And then it’s a simple matter of pushing them into the melted steel or car crusher.

Those most concerned with the Robot Apocalypse should consider a move to the industrial North.

Sure, that’s bleak,

But then so is the ROBOT APOCOLPYSE.

Tip #4

At every opportunity, make sure to mutter profoundly

There’s a problem, with the robots.”

You may not sound quite like Will Smith

But you’ll still sound pretty cool.

Tip #5

Run diagonally. Robots hate that shit.

Tip #6

Carry a magnet. Point it at the robot. Not sure if this will work or not,

but it did a helluva job on my PC.

Tip #7

Lobby government robot making agencies to create robots with Apple Mac based systems.

PC’s are full of war games, which will train the robots to kill.

You can’t play shit on an Apple Mac, so instead, you’ll have a future of robots that are

GREAT at graphic design and video editing, but shit at exterminating humanity.

Tip #8

Make sure you have a geek on your survival team. Preferably one with a crazy mad scientist father.

The more insufferable the better. They may be awful, but you need somebody to tell you

If we can simply cross-denigrate the Central Processor Matrix, the ensuing ionic interference will be enough to disengage the robot’s datamatric manifolds!”

Tip #9

When he says that, nod.

Tip #10

Broker a peace between the pirates and the ninjas. It will be difficult, but you will need them. Pirates are death at sea, and ninjas are death on land, and together, you will have TOTAL ROBOT DEATH.

And finally Tip#11

Don’t ever, EVER, have a half-naked, strobe lit, techno dance party when you think you’re winning. This will not only irritate you and the robots, but also the people who paid eight pounds to see that piece of shit that was Matrix Revolutions.

And so, with that, I bid you good luck,

And hope surviving the coming Robot Apocalypse.

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Back from a break–and not one from my penis

Famous World Leaders, Alive or Dead, that would also be good nicknames for my Penis, if it wasn’t already named Juan Domingo Valdez

Vlad the Impaler

Dietrich Bonhoeffer

Herman Van Rompuy

O-o-oBAMA

(Igor) Chudinov

Ghenghis Khan

King Abdulla

Maxmillien Robespierre

Mizengo Pinda

Alaric the Goth

Sergei Bagapsh

Angela Merkel (for the ladies)

Geronimo (for the Native Americans)

Pope Benedict the 16th (inches)

Mr. Pushkin

Anerood Jugnauth

El Cid

Xenophon

Peter the Great

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Binary Love Poem (for when you care enough to compute the very best)

010010010010000001101100011011110111011001100101001000000

11110010110111101110101, girl.

010011010110111101110010011001010010000001110100011010000

11000010110111000100000011101000110100001100101,

the whole world.

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Superpowers I’d like to have, if all the good superpowers, like invisibility, were taken.

A telepathic connection to squirrels.

The ability to manipulate remote controls with my mind.

Disturbing preternatural knowledge of the rules of cricket.

Total resistance to guilt.

I can call on the aid of Ronaldo, my crime-fighting ferret.

Pan-dimensional Felching.

The awesome power to influence the minds of French People.

Thumbs that could be turned all the way around, and when released, spin repeatedly back into place, to comic effect.

Huge Super Balls.

An air of unbreatheable smugness

Secret button which, when pressed, unleashes a horde of Vikings, who sing a hilarious show tune, then KILL.

The power to reveal inconvenient truths to the wrong people at inappropriate times.

A barrage of unstoppable spider monkeys, with mischief on their minds.

Turning into a pony.

A suit of invincible body armour that also blasts the song ‘Tiny Dancer’ at my enemies on an endless loop, while we fight.

The ability to control humidity.

Bulletproof leg warmers.

I could smell into the future.

Total control of I-70, and all it’s Stuckys.

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Arcadeia: A Love Poem to my wife. And video games.

I love you very, very much, and I also love video games.

Probably you, more than video games.

But it’s pretty close.

Must the two be mutually exclusive?

For you, like video games, are a most glorious past-time.

You, like video games, challenge, amuse, and occasionally frustrate me.

And you, like video games, require a steady input of money to continue operating.

When I first met you, your eyes, two shiny quarters,

were full of love and promise. Like video games.

As we spent time together, our love grew to new levels,

Just like video games.

And now that we’re married, I find each day full of new, often dangerous tasks,

which I must fufill just to keep it going. Shit, girl, love is a lot like video games.

I love you more than Dig Dug loves dirt.

Let me be your Defender, you my Final Fantasy

Cause every day with you is Burger Time, girl,

For your love, I would fight monkeys.

Big ones. Big, angry monkeys,

Throwing barrells. Barrells of our love.

Which I smash with my hammer of…hammering.

I love you more than Q-bert loves jumping diagonally.

I would Joust for you over fiery lava pits,

Perfect my Falcon punch.

I would hop turtles and search sewer pipes,

catching coins to spread before your gentle feet.

Our romance has no Half-Life, you make me go Wii,

And in the Bedroom I’m your Mega Man, baby,

The laser of my love powering up steadily.

And I’ll rise to your Call of Duty, whatever the cost,

Avoiding any Pitfall, Quake, or Punch Out.

Baby, don’t fear the Ghosts and Ghouls

Cause I will go after that shit with my lance

Level after level after level after level

of the same goddamn thing.

Cause I’m just that committed to you,

And the high score.

Yeah…yeah…

It’s late, my love, but no Time Crisis,

I’ll be in bed soon, my dear,

Cause girl, you know I’ll love you for eveah and evah,

But…I just got to finish this one, last, level.

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