Victory Lap

Friends,

Today is my Dad's birthday. He's the ripe age of 55. I will write something else today about him to do this milestone justice, but right now, it's all about me, baby.

You see, last night, during my inaugural Limmerick performance at McGoff's...yours truly won the whole shebang, and I have the green t-shirt to prove it. It's kind of like the green jacket of the Master's, only for dirty, socially unacceptable, crude form poetry. And, sure, it may be a little snug, but I'll wear it like a scarlet letter goddamn it, unflattering as it may be.

I'm unsure which limmerick did it. Could have been the one about the Saudia Arabian woman with the 3 foot labia (one of two long labia poems that night). Might have been the one about Jenny's fingers smelling like the Caspian Sea. Or, possibly, was the one about the Holocaust.

I should admit that Holocaust isn't the easiest word to rhyme, and that after I got home from McGoff's I immediately took a shower. And yes, I feel guilty for it. But, I'm going to reproduce the poem below, but I can't find the original, so below is my best approximation of the limmericks I read. I apologize for everything in advance:

There was a woman from Saudia Arabia
who had three feet of dangling brown labia
and when stretched out beside her
to make a big slimy glider
She flew to see Joan of Arcadia

They say Jenny quit being a lesbian
but her fingers still smell like the Caspian
she could scrub all the want
but there's no riddin' the cunt
from there for the cheeks on her cranium.

People make a big deal about the Holocaust
But it's just as silly as erotic tree moss
It was just Jesus lovin
as he flicked on those gas ovens
And baked them to a nice Kosher sauce.

What. Is. Wrong. With. Me. I need another shower.

VIVA EL MUSTACHE!