So she takes out this cardboard box filled with cute little homemade cards and a stash of these “coupons” that we used to make for her for almost every gift-giving occasion.

The coupons were for things like taking out the trash, doing the dishes, laundry, etc.

As I shuffled through about 20 of these coupons, one of them caught my eye. It had been given to her by my sister when she was about 12 years old.

Merry Christmas, Mommy!

I just about died.

“Let’s have some fun, this beat is sick. I wanna take a ride on your disco stick.”

Nothing could make my penis go flaccid faster than hearing a woman refer to it as a “disco stick.” Proper nicknames may be any of the following examples:

Lightening Rod, The Hammer, The Beast, Python, etc.

Ms. Gaga, I would love to play a “Love Game” with you: it’s called “erotic asphyxiation,” but you are the only one who is going to get choked.

From “So What” by Pink

“The waiter just took my table and gave it to Jessica Simps” AND

“Check my flow *bizarre grunt noise*”

Jessica Simps? Seriously? Say it with me now: Jessica SimpsON. Good! Lazy bitch.

And I’m going to assume that since Pink is a woman and clearly cannot rap, she is referring to her period when asking the listener to “check my flow.” I politely decline. I would rather not be face-to-gaping hole with her saber-toothed snatch.

From “You’re so Vain” by Carly Simon

“You‘re so vain, I bet you think this song is about you”

Correct me if I’m wrong Carly, but presumably you wrote this song about a certain person, and you wanted to express to this individual that they are indeed, vain. At what point does the subject of the song change? Who is the song actually about? Is there a person literally named “You” somewhere? No, there isn’t, because the words would then need to be “You is so vain, I bet You thinks this song is about you.” In such a case, You wouldn’t be vain because You believes the song is about someone else. Well I have have something to say to you Mrs. Simon:

“You’re so dumb, I bet you think this post is about one of your songs.”

What’s that? You don’t get it? Well that’s because this post is about one of your songs and how it makes no fucking sense.

From “Battlefield” by Jordin Sparks

“Why does love always feel like a battlefield?”

Such a deep lyric. Especially coming from a nineteen-year-old girl with no combat experience.

I might need to add to this list, but I’m out of time.

]]> http://www.bierstick.com/blog/index.php/2009/07/terrible-song-lyrics/feed/ http://www.bierstick.com/blog/index.php/2009/07/this-never-gets-old/ http://www.bierstick.com/blog/index.php/2009/07/this-never-gets-old/#comments Sun, 19 Jul 2009 03:01:25 +0000 Bill Sullivan http://www.bierstick.com/blog/index.php/2009/07/this-never-gets-old/

Like, literally.

Terminator Salvation

This dude needs to save this kid so the kid can go back in time and nail the dude’s mom, thereby conceiving the dude, so the dude can grow up and save his father and the world from machines with the help of a former cold-blooded killer.

Transformers

Vehicles turn into alien machines made up of 10 times the amount of metal used in the original vehicle to fight other massive alien machines over a cosmic Rubik’s cube called an AllSpark–not to be confused with AllSport.

AllSpark : Alien Energy Source

AllSport : Human Energy Source

Revolutionary Road (Also known as Worst Fucking Film Ever Made)

Two individuals, a male and a female, with very high opinions of themselves and their “potential” are completely insatiable regarding any detail in life and the female whines about everything imaginable until she whacks herself trying to abort her unborn child.

Benjamin Button

This guy is born as a tiny old man and progresses and regresses in size and mental capacity to become a tiny baby within a normal lifespan. At no point does he feel suicidal.

The Taking of Pelham 123

A “brillliant,” former Wall Street working, sociopath and his team hijack a subway train to instill fear and effect market gold prices all while offering some sort of twisted therapy to Denzel Washington (no matter who he portrays, all you can see is Denzel Washington). Innocent travelers are murdered in front of other travelers, but apparently the witnesses are unaffected by traumatic events and throw a small party when the train comes to a halt just in the nick of time.

My interpretation of this image is that the Chinese are choosing who will live and who will die from Swine Flu, which was recently declared a pandemic by the World Health Organization.

Ironically, the little girls that were likely failed abortion attempts are being outfitted to live–unless of course they already have swine flu; then they are simply being quarantined.

“Excuse me ma’am, but you have a little ketchup on your lip.”

“Hey, um, you’ve got that grandpa-mouth thing going on; you know the little white stuff in the corners of your mouth. Yeah, you probably want to take care of that.”

We’ve all been in a position where we’re not sure whether to tell someone if they have something embarrassing affecting their appearance, and often we’ve doubted that the action we decided to take was the right one.

So, I’m golfing today and the beer bitch comes over, very hot. She’s wearing these little white shorts that no doubt has most of the golfers on the course at least half-staff during their entire round (Rosie Jones’ included).

Rosie Jones, lesbian

Anyway, I order my usual 16 oz. aluminum Bud Light, she gives it to me, I pay her, and she proceeds to sit down in her cart to count my change. As she reaches out to hand it to me, she spreads her legs just right, and I catch a full on shot of her luscious, shaved vag. Awesome, I know. She has no idea what I have just seen, even though I was standing there in awe just staring for about three seconds. I tip her, she leaves, and I tell the other three in my group what I have just witnessed. Immediately, one of them, who we’ll call Bruce, says, “Well, did you tell her?”

I, along with the rest of the group, am baffled that Bruce thought I would even consider telling her. Well, according to him, it’s standard practice to tell someone in that situation.

Apparently he was working out at Gold’s Gym once when an old guy wearing some disgustingly short shorts was pumping out a few reps on the bench press. Midway through his set, he shifted a little and one of his testicles popped fully out of the bottom of his loincloth. Bruce, being very forward by nature, leaned in close to the guy and whispered, “Excuse me sir, but your balls are showing.”

According to Bruce, the man was very appreciative, thanking him for the heads up.

I explained to Bruce that yes, in his situation it was the right decision to tell the man, because, honestly, who at a Gold’s Gym, or anywhere for that matter, wants to see some old dude’s wrinkly ballsack protruding from his Stocktons?

John Stockton

Telling Grandpa saved a lot of people from that lasting, nightmarish image ingraining itself in their long-term memories. It was a public service.

I continued to explain that in my situation, it would be a slap in the face of the male race to tell her. Who knows how many men and box-munching ladies left the golf course today in a great mood not because they made a few birdies and chipped in on #10 for eagle (Ahem), but solely because they were graced with this glorious serendipity.

You should’ve seen this honey pot.

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There are certain people who possess genes that must die off. For example:

A gene known scientifically as “ugly.” Victims of ugly include:

Sarah Jessica Parker. Yuck. Women think she is beautiful, but that’s because they want to feel better about themselves.

DJ Qualls. This man was a model? He looks like the result of a bang session between Tobey McGuire and that creature from Harry Potter.

The gene “annoying” also needs to be eradicated:

Nancy Grace. Have you ever been innocently cruising through channels when you cross a manatee screaming at you on CNN? Well, that’s her. I’ve never seen anyone get off to human strife quite like she does. But that image gives me just the right plan to shut her up. I’ll give you a hint: it involves my penis.

This is the cast of The Real World - Denver, but they are on this post to reflect the cast of any MTV “reality” show. These individuals are the scum of the Earth. It scares me that our youth grow up wanting to watch these idiots whine about their “difficult” lives.

“Stupid”:

Plaxico Burress. The guy shot himself in the leg. ‘Nuff said.

I say stopping these people from creating spawn is justified by the Eighth Amendment to the US Constitution (cruel and unusual punishment). Fuck closing Guantanamo Bay, how about we close SJP’s legs.

Anyway…

To test the product before using it in the field (my girlfriend’s back), I dumped some water on the counter and attempted to wipe it up. Not only did the glorified towel feel rock hard, it smeared the water around about as much as it soaked. I’ve thrown tampons that hold more water at passing cars. Needless to say, I was disappointed as I believe everything I see on television.

What a sleaze that ShamWow guy is. Evidently one dissatisfied customer showed her displeasure by pretending to be a prostitute so she could bite his tongue off. I say “good for her.” And yes, I do believe she was pretending. That snake oil salesman got what he deserved.

You’ve navigated the seedy pages of Craigslist’s “erotic services” or “casual encounters” sections. You’re a bold-faced liar if you try to say you haven’t. Men and women looking for casual sex, borderline perverts looking for entertainment, real perverts, and apparently medical students looking for a quick buck have relied on the erotic services forum for years.

Who are the idiots that actually believe eliminating erotic services is going to mitigate prostitution? I have been notified by a friend, and erotic services aficionado, that the hardworking ladies (and men) formerly fueling erotic services have already began posting in the “casual encounters” section seeking “generou$ men”. Now watch the special interest groups get their panties in a bunch trying to crackdown on suggestive spelling.

Prostitution is the oldest profession on earth and it will continue to prosper, for better or for worse. The only “right” thing to do is legalize monetary-transaction-based-intercourse; then at least prostitution can become somewhat regulated and you can feel all cozy knowing you aren’t paying $50 to contract an infection or get your wallet stolen. Plus, what people do with their money and bodies behind closed doors is their own business.

I’m going to leave my closing comment to Chuck Sheen, hooker-lover.

“I don’t pay hookers for sex. I pay them to leave after.”

Fox, out.