“How many girls here slept with Howard Hughes?” “I did” “I did”

Posted by Lizzie on 02/19/11

Just for your information: I don’t need children, husbands or fine jewelry. All I need to know is that when I am 39 and holding, pals Dionne Warwick, Shelley Winters, Teri Garr, Terry Moore, Teena Marie and some unidentified man will come join me on my pink plush set to film my exercise video.
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FILTHY I tell you. Filthy Chum!

Posted by Lizzie on 08/06/10

This is one of the fave piecs I EVER DID. In honor of SHARK WEEK, which I have so sadly not had a chance to watch yet, I present the encore edition of: ‘Jaws’: Celebrating Sand, Sex And A Really Big Fish :

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If you enjoyed this interlude, please figure out the HTML for the jump function?

Posted by Lizzie on 01/18/07

For reasons that may or may not ever become clear to you–not that we give a crap–we’re finally publishing a poem on our blog that also remains on permanent loan to our dearest friend Mr. Balk, as long as he wants it. (No, Alex did not make the poem up to make fun of us. He is much funnier than that.) We wrote this many years ago in college for a friend who was being dicked over by an evil, unkind mana 26-year-old. That man is now a dutiful, loving husband and father. See the power of poetry? Especially when it RHYMES?

There’s a jump in here for the old folks. Don’t jump, old folksThe "jump" function is missing from our WYSIWYG for some reason. You’re going to have to get THE WHOLE THING AT ONCE! (Rimshot! We love saying "Rimshot!".) If you are related to us, do not read past stanza 4. Everyone else–we don’t know why you even read this blog in the first place, so whatever.

Ballad Of The Love-Scorned Anywoman

Would it trouble you, at my behest,
to put a stuttering heart to rest?

This trouble’s neither great nor tall–
So look at me, at least, or call.

My number’s listed in the book,
and much is said with scattered look,

or not. Not operating, then
fling out that stevedore, and pen

a captive letter, deeply felt,
as lush and fired as African veldt.

God’s love, we never had a fight!
We Walked in Beauty like the Night!

or somesuch. As you used to say?
perhaps that was another day.

Perhaps you listed me along
with All Else In My Life That’s Wrong:

the idling sound that’s not quite sound,
the ruined roast, the basset hound

you wanted but never seemed to get.
And you had studied to be a vet!

Perhaps I’m left in flounced heap
with all else limitless and cheap.

Or backyard flung to sootwashed bin,
with other snot-strung cherubim.

But I digress, and I’m forlorn.
My hands are weeping, chewed-off, torn.

I’d send them to The One I Love,
If Hallmark made a helpful glove.

My needs are drippy, short and clear:
could you last lilt out, "My Dear?"

Can’t do? Be kind, if we’re to be free.
I sucked your dick; be nice to me.

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Back to Sloth

Posted by Lizzie on 01/03/07

We’re a little late on this–lust, sloth, gluttony, etc.–but Boldtype’s Deadly Sins issue is up.

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More Help For Search Strings

Posted by Lizzie on 12/10/06

fuck my ex boyfrined never loved him poems

Here you go!

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Pencils up

Posted by Lizzie on 12/08/06

Humorphobe Rachel Sklar’s apparent inability to grasp the comedy gold sprinkled like so much elemental pollen on all that Hitchens’ wand touches pains us, so much so that we contacted to the master to ask for a step by step clarification of one of his most side-splitting sallies:

I am talking about that real, out-loud, head-back, mouth-open-to-expose-the-full-horseshoe-of-lovely-teeth, involuntary, full, and deep-throated mirth; the kind that is accompanied by a shocked surprise and a slight (no, make that a loud) peal of delight—well, then, you have at least caused her to loosen up and to change her expression. I shall not elaborate further.

Get your notebook out, Sklar:




We’d hit that! Am I right? Am I right?

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More like “first base” mirth than “deep-throated mirth”, but call us anyway

Posted by Lizzie on 12/07/06

Why, this is the funniest thing we have read in years. [Via Maudie]

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You Searched, We Answered

Posted by Lizzie on 12/02/06

We are usually irritated by those search keyword roundups–“Someone got here by searching for ETHICAL DATIVE; can you BELIEVE it?” but December has brought a wave of plaintive entreaties we find we can actually answer. We will omit all of the search phrases you can imagine our name brings–except “pointed tits”, which we take as a directive–but, rest assured, we will tire of our mastery of site stats very soon.

lizzie skurnick
Yes! Well done.

macfayden knightley

what are some sites that get past pesky website blockers
It’s like you’re searching for porn with an English accent. Carry on.

im loving memory of an employee poems
We’re assuming, Boss Jekyll, YOU didn’t kill said employee with the file-hurling rage that is the corollary to this wave of regret and despair, right? What’s that you say? It won’t happen again? Not for the three months’ salary it’s going to take to pay the temp and conduct the statewide job search caused by your mid-level manager lack of impulse control, it won’t. But to get back to the question, the standard text for disposing of an employee in the parking lot is Hopkins’ “Spring and Fall.”

baltimore oh girls
Of course, now that we’re GONE.

sorche fairbank
Can you call us this from now on? Oh, you’re too busy trying to hold off on law school.

what do we know about the narrators name reaching dustin
Oh my god, we don’t know! How much are you going to NEED us to know? Is it like, his name is Dust– , and we’re hoping he’ll get there? Or does Dustin NEED TO KNOW who the narrator’s name is? What do you mean by REACH? We don’t know–AND WE DON’T KNOW WHAT WE DON’T KNOW!!! Jesus. We’re going to the next one.

eye elisions
We don’t know; eye is pretty short, champ–what are you going for, e’e? Did you have something to do with this Dustin thing?

ethical dative
We have pretended to know what this is in the past; we have no idea. Did our commenter help?

what do hag worms eat
God, is there something called a HAG WORM? It’s like, being a hag isn’t bad enough? Ahhhh…Google would like to know if you meant hagworm. Chump.

# of pages in mona simpson s paperback version of the lost father
558. And sucks for you, because it’s not the one where she has sex in the pool.

harold dieterle girlfriend


Seriously, we have no idea. But one of the few benefits of the bugaboo-wielding gauntlet we negotiate on our way to the F train is the occasional sighting of Mr. “I don’t understand why you did dessert. This is an amuse bouche challenge” himself. And, while we feel it is craven and inappropriate to actually report on semi-semi-celebrities’ real-world activities, we think Mr. Dieterle will not mind if we inform readers that, even before he LEAPT up to give his seat to one such Bugaboo-wielder the other day, HE WAS THE HOTTNESS.
Hold on a sec.


lindsay lohan problematic prose
Yeah. Cause THAT’S the problem.

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To say nothing of Tyra’s

Posted by Lizzie on 10/29/04

bra Victoria’s Secret is busting out with (sorry) a $10,000,000 “fantasy bra” for the holidays. How sad is it for the poor shmo who forks over the cash, then realizes he still doesn’t get to see his wife’s nipples?

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