And bitch, I miss my husband like, more than you know

Without me he’s so sad, he’s prob’ly home singin’ a ballad

And crying lonely tears into our FAVORITE TACO SALAD

And he’ll be sitting there confused and really feeling a loss

Cuz I’m the one who always orders extra SPICY YELLOW SAUCE

What if he’s so lonely he just takes up Dianetics?

I’m a worrier, bitch, THANK YOU JEWISH GENETICS

But I don’t worry ’bout him cheating, he’s too good to scratch that itch

And I hung posters ’round Manhattan warning I WILL CHOKE A BITCH

So all them ladies in New York know that they BETTA stay real far

Yeah, they know it like they know Dan Smith will TEACH THEM THE GUITAR

And though I’m doin’ MY thang, I just can’t seem to forget

All my worries that his needs aren’t bein’ mothafuckin’ MET

So the other day I’m worryin’ that he’s at home unstable

When my phone rings with an email from our friends at OPENTABLE

If you don’t use OpenTable, then yous GOTSTA be insane

Bitch, we NEED our reservations, we ain’t ANTHONY BOURDAIN

And the emails come to me, not because I am imperious

We’re just Jewish and we take our OpenTable points FOR SERIOUS

“Table for 2, Friday night,” a confirmation

With an email like that, one might resort to castration

(For me, it put an end to my past week of constipation)

And then my email rings AGAIN! Who’s it from? Bitch, are you curious?

Fandango.com! Two seats for FAST and FUCKIN’ FURIOUS

And fast and furious was I, all my trust flew out the door

My heart goes racing wildly, I’m gonna kill this whore

My hands shook as I dialed, cuz the news kinda impaled me

But it only rang through twice–OH NO HE DIN-UNT—HE VOICEMAILED ME!

So I sent that boy a text like, “MOTHERFUCKER–WHERE YOU ARE??”

Typing…Typing…he’s like, “DYLAN’S mothafuckin’ CANDY BAR!”

And my anger turned to sadness, this shit REALLY hurt my fillins

That’s our very special thing–PRE-MOVIE mothafuckin’ DYLAN’S

He knows the mix I like: gummies bottom, chocolate middle,

Topped with TONS of sour shit, and like, ONE Sour Skittle

He knows that once I dig in, I just giggle like I’m tickerish

When the perfect ‘mout of sour gets on that AUSTRALIAN LICORICE

And basically, he knows that when he makes that mix of candy

There’s 100% success rate that he’ll prolly get a handy

Just right then phone rang, it was him and I was seething

But I calmly said hello and I practiced LAMAZE BREATHING

(NO, Mom…no)

“Whatcha doin’ tonight?” He’s like, “A movie and a drinkler”

“OH YEAH??” “WITH WHOM? ” He’s says, “With FUCKIN’ Jason FUCKIN’ Finkler”*

 (*not exactly a direct quote I don’t think)

(AND BITCH, you BETTA know your WHO from WHOM–sorry for the pause,

BUT YOU GOTSTA KNOW use WHOM when it’s the OBJECT OF A CLAUSE)

“JASON FINKLER??” I said, and I felt like such a sucker

“JASON FINKLER!” he says, “IT’S A MAN DATE, MOTHER FUCKER”*

(*again, not like 100% sure that was the exact quote)

“Fandango and Dylans?” I say, “Those are OUR routines!”

He’s like, “I changed the mix cuz Jason really likes his JELLY BEANS”

“Did you get two separate bags?” He’s all, “No–we’re gonna share”

“We’ll just put it on the armrest of the MOTHAFUCKIN’ chair”

“And OpenTable for a man date? Dudes just go to burger joints!”

He’s like, “Baby, I am serious ABOUT MY FUCKIN’ POINTS”*

(*actually this may have been a direct quote)

So I told him, “Go have fun with Jason Finkler on your date”

“And call me when it’s over, and Aar–don’t stay out too late”

I then put down my phone, so ashamed I freaked and fussed

When I know I married my best friend, whoM I can always trust

And really, was I worried that someone would date and kiss him?

Nah–truth is when I’m gone, I simply really fuckin’ miss him

And while I’m here it’s nice to know he’s taken care of by good friends

And Finkler, if you cared, perhaps some nookie when it ends

Jason, I’m just kidding you, you know I like to joke ya

(Cuz Finkler if you did, you saw the signs, I’D FUCKIN’ CHOKE YA)

And Fast and Furious? I’d NEVER, even if you paid me MILLINS

(Or I’d see it for a handy and two pounds from fuckin’ Dylan’s)

word.

(Names have been changed to protect the totally innocent Jordan fuckin’ Finkler)

To have legalized gay marriage, bitch, that’s cause for celeBRATION

And when it comes to marriage, I am TOTES the expert source

I’ve been married five whole years, so like, DUH OF COURSE

Now that so many more of us can enter wedded bliss

I’m ’bout to give y’all some insight BETTA LISTEN UP TO THIS

Now, I really love my husband, bitch, I’ve said it many times

We’re committed to each other (COUGH COUGH LeAnn COUGH COUGH Rimes)

But marriage is complex and really nobody explores

All the things be happenin’ behind closed married doors

So before y’all get hitched and go become co-haBITable

There are many things ’bout which you should make sure you’re compatTITible

Today I’m here to tell you ’bout just one point of contention

That has lately caused some stress on our here marital convention

See there’s one thing that my husband likes a VERY certain way

Whereas I prefer it sloppily and sometimes twice a day

I initiate and get it done most of the time, however,

He would rather do it rigidly and frankly, HARDLY EVER

Now, Im not intent to scare you or cause feelings of foreboding

But before you wed, you GOTSTA talk about DISHWASHER LOADING

This is a sad sad problem, kids, so go and grab your tissues

And thank y’all for listenin’ to my WHITE GIRL JEWISH ISSUES

This has long been a problem in our real humble abode

Though I get away with my way, almost every fuckin’ load

The only time is sucks is when my guy catches a glimpse

He thinks he’s the big daddy of DISHWASHER LOADING PIMPS

And he kinda is an expert on the loading of it since

He’s never EVER lived without one (he’s a pretty pretty prince)

We’re equals in our marriage, so bitch I don’t let him rule me

But when he sees my sloppy loading he can’t help but try to school me

His arrangement of the forks is always much better than mine

“You have to separate them so they’re  CLEAN BETWEEN EACH TINE”

(That’s what the spikes on a fork are called. BITCH)

I put the glasses on the prongs and he’s all, “NO! They’re there to NESTLE”

“And tupperware goes on the top OR ELSE YOU’LL WARP THE VESSEL”

He tries to be real tender as he flips over the knives

“Honey, you don’t realize this is endangering our lives” (they’re butter knives)

“And only put as many glasses in as the tray can take,

Overcrowding and vibrations gonna cause that shit to BREAK”

“AND separate the plates, it’s REALLY BAD when they are stacking”

BITCH, you know what’s REALLY BAD? FUCKIN’hydroFRICKINGfracking

But I always get the job done when I do it my own way

He’s like the mean coach from The Mighty Ducks and BITCH, I’M COACH BOMBAY

And truth be told, the tips he has are really kinda great

But he hasn’t loaded up that shit since TWO THOUSAND AND EIGHT

And he’s so smart it blows my mind, he never stops to think

How those dishes all get clean when he just leaves them in the SINK

There are famous sloppy loaders, take Korean rapper Psy or

Perhaps Elena Kagan or SONIA SOTOMAYOR

Ok, I made that up, but you get what I mean

If a tree falls in a forest, THEN THAT SHIT’S STILL FUCKIN’ CLEAN

But when he redoes all my loading and tells me that’s horrible

I can’t help but to smile cuz his OCD’s adorable

And each time we end up laughing, every time a little louder

As he tells me why the tablets are much better than the powder

So even with this issue, this problem SO domestic

Being married to your best friend bitch, really is majestic

I’ll go put away the dishes now, no reason to protest

There’s only two glasses to put away (cuz bitch, I broke the rest)

Word.

It’s that time of year, bitch, IT’S ALLERGY SEASON

Now, I’m kinda an expert, cuz of course I get them too

Bitch, allergies are part of what it means to be a JEW

So I feel like it’s my duty just to lay out some terms

‘Bout how yous gots to be responsible with your fuckin’ GERMS

I can’t tell you how often I be yellin’ BITCH PLEASE

When y’all don’t cover up when you motha fuckin’ SNEEZE

You should be prepared, it shouldn’t come as a surprise

Lee Goldberg’s AccuWeather forecast says when pollen levels RISE

Ever since the Civil War, both the Rebels and the Yankees

Took a break from slaves and killing to catch sneezes in their HANKIES

And you bet drinking and schtuppin’ dont’ be stoppin Don Draper

From catchin’ his damn sexy snot in a piece of TISSUE PAPER

We’ve got new guidelines now, bitch you know what I mean

This ain’t the nineteen hundreds, this two thousand and THIRTEEN

So if you don’t have a kleenex, bitch, don’t act all naive

Simply sneeze in your elbow–yeah girl–your UPPER SLEEVE

Gone are the days of sneezin’ in your hand

That’s how cholera spread throughout many a land

Yes, your nasty-ass cough could wipe out the whole nation

Either that or put a damper on my POST-PASSOVER VACATION

You bet the girl on the plane wasn’t havin’ much fun

When a dude coughed and gave her herpes simplex TYPE ONE

And I heard about a chick who sneezed and touched the subway bars

Then the whole fuckin N train got mother fuckin’ SARS

And another time a mom snotted on her kid’s strolla

And all them kids in playgroup ended up gettin’ EBOLA

You betta believe it, all these stories are true

And the way we stop the germs, bitch, it begins with YOU

So sneeze in your sleeve, and then wash your hands real well

And then marry a doctor simply for the FREE PURELL

And now you know when you feel your nose itch

Take care of your germs, or else I will choke a bitch

Word.

Bitch, it ain’t no mystery, I made it nice and title-y

So don a little hat, have a lollipop or sucker

Cuz just the other day it was my BIRTHDAY MOTHER FUCKER

And as always on my birthday, while I softly celebrate it

I’ll tell you all a secret–well, I kinda fuckin’ hate it

This all dates back to when I was a tiny little Jew

The night was New Years Eve NINETEEN FUCKING NINETY-TWO

My parents had big plans to go out with their friends to dinner

And I was sure to make this New Years Eve a fuckin’ winner

My dad took me to Blockbuster and rented me The Witches

We picked up the babysitter IT’S A SLUMBER PARTY BITCHES

I cut up all my Tiger Beats, made three bowls of confetti

And defrosted some pierogies BITCH THEY’RE BETTER THAN SPAGHETTI

I then called up every single girl in my fuckin’ class

“I gots pierogies and The Witches –ANJIE HUSTON KICKS SOME ASS”

My parents overheard this and just rolled their eyes in shame

And prolly weren’t surprised at all when just one person came

But she was TOTES MY BFF, so I didn’t mind a bit

And she brought me sparkling cider MARTINELLI’S IS THE SHIT

She didn’t want to watch The Witches, but that was our only clash

(If she don’t like Ms. Huston’s work in that, I HOPE SHE DON’T WATCH SMASH)

We danced with hats necklaces that glowed up in the dark

Like a two-person Bar Mitzvah for our dear old love, DICK CLARK

We had more cider and more candy than quite possibly could feed us

A night like this I think gave Wilford Brimley diabeetus

As the clock ticked down to twelve we were screaming and a-hopping

(We hadn’t learned ’bout balls, or I’d have joked about them dropping)

We counted down to one and I sent confetti flying

As it fell I looked down at my friend, and she just started crying

“OMG What’s wrong??” I ran right up to her and asked

She said to me through teary eyes, “Time just goes by so fast”

In poor form, I popped a popper (it was begging me to pop it)

She cried, “The years go by so fast and really nobody can stop it”

I stopped through falling streamers and I let her words just chill me

“I gotsta dustbust this confetti or my mom is gonna kill me”

We cried through the whole night, gravely questioning our fate

(I should probably mention here that we were motherfuckin’ EIGHT)

We still joke about that night, our thoughts at eight were so severe

But I go right back to that place ’round my birthday every year

I get scared when I see birthday cake and even some gift wrappin’

And for some reason on my birthday week, awful things just happen

Throughout much of history, that week is hella shitty

It was the week of Columbine and Oklahoma City,

The San Francisco earthquake and the siege at Waco, Texas

One year that week I backed my car into my neighbor’s Lexus

The Titanic hit an iceberg, Jack and Rosie started sinkin’

‘Twas a bad week at the theatre for President Abe Lincoln

That week the BP oil rig exploded in the Gulf

Mrs. Hitler had a baby and she named him fuckin ‘dolf

The Revolutionary War began, shots at Virginia Tech

All occurred my birthday week, and it’s like WHAT THE HECK?

The only good part ’bout my day is it’s Tim Curry’s birthday too

Without whom there’s no Frank-N-Furter, Home Alone, or CLUE

I try to see the good in things, we Jews don’t do the devil

But this year brought my birthday week down to a whole new level

Last week our dear ol’ country needed somebody to spare her

From hatred and from politics, from tragedy and from terror

Each day seemed to get worse than I ever thought it could

But through all the loads of evil, we saw ten times that much good

The goodness that came trough in itself was redefining

We saw new depths of darkness, but the brightest silver lining

We help each other run again, and carry those who fall

To be reminded of such goodness was the greatest gift of all

(Well, on the subject of great gifts my husband did get me a banjo

So to him I give my thanks and very possibly a hand-jo)

Now I think back on that New Years and my tiny worried self

And I think it’s time I take those fears and place them on the shelf

If we let our anxieties cripple and confound us

We miss out on the beauty that is right there all around us

I’m not sure what next year will bring, but I can guarantee

That I’ll be smiling on my birthday, with a banjo on my knee

And I hope you too will celebrate the good amidst the fury

And don’t do it for me, of course, but do it for Tim Curry

Word.

And sitting right across I see these gorgeous little boys

They were riding on the 6 train with this chick who was their nanny

(No, not cuz they’re Hispanic and this chick is Pakistani)

I heard her tellin’ someone she’s a nanny and a bassist

I didn’t make assumptions, bitch, I AIN’T NO NANNY RACIST

They were playing nice and quietly with little cars and boats

And dressed up so adorably in MATCHING MONCLER COATS

They were munching on some healthy snacks, a little veggie crudo

They looked like tiny 4-year-old MEMBERS OF MENUDO

As I looked into their gorgeous eyes and perfect dimpled grins

I whispered, “Motherfucker.  THOSE ARE RICKY MARTIN’S TWINS.”

Bitch, I’m well-versed in celeb kids (I once saw Bronx Mowgli Wentz)

And Ricky Martin’s on the East Side SO THE 6 TRAIN WOULD MAKE SENSE!

Of course I kept real quiet (didn’t wanna seem a dork)

Bitch, that’s just how you roll when YOU ARE FUCKIN’ FROM NEW YORK

(Well, I’m actually from Cleveland, but I’m sayin’ that’s how I WOULD in fact roll, if I was actually from New York) (bitch)

And speaking of New York, there is no place I’d rather be

Than where these two boys and their dads can be a fuckin’ family

I looked right at these happy kids, how nicely they were seated

And I thought about some news of late and got real fuckin’ heated

I promised long ago I wouldn’t make this blog political

But this shit isn’t politics–BITCH, I ain’t hypocritical

Keeping anyone from marrying just really gets me fumin’

I told ya, it ain’ politics, it’s simply fuckin’ HUMAN

Folks comparing beastiality to people who are gay!?!?

If anyone’s unfit to parent it’s the ones who think that way

Politicians cheering Chick-fil-a, all in the name of God?

And what if Track or Trig were gay?? Or (more likely)Todd?

The best thing we can give this world, so far and above

Is to let us all live equally and openly with love

I left train and smiled at Matteo and his brother (Valentino. duh.)

Who on earth would keep their dads from fuckin’ marrying each other?

Bitch, I fucking love my husband, our bond is crazy thick

I’d SO marry him again, even if he were a chick

Love is simply love, gay or straight, New York or Boca

And for two people in love to wed? That vida sure ain’t loca

I walked home and I thought about how much I find it bothering

How anyone could question love and question loving fathering

NPH and David Burtka, Ellen, Portia, Cam & Mitch?

If anyone keeps them from marrying, I’ll fuckin’ choke a bitch

I got home and went online for just a little decompression

And I wrote this lil’ rap for you in true PASSIVE AGGRESSION

And I Google Image searched a pic of Ricky and his tots

And I found one from that very day!  I’M LIKE GONNA PLOTZ

He was walking through an airport, kids in hand and standing tall

And I zoomed in on the boys  AND THEY WEREN’T WHO I SAW AT ALL

They were acting like his kids, one on each leg so tightly latching

BUT IT JUST CAN’T BE SO! THEIR JACKETS AREN’T EVEN MATCHING

They had no designer clothes and no Evita paraphernalia

And they weren’t on the 6 train–THEY WERE FUCKING IN AUSTRALIA

So my boys weren’t Ricky Martin’s kids, as far as I can tell

But I’m sure they have gay dads–they just were dressed too fucking well

No matter who their parents are, why not let them wed?

I logged onto my Facebook, seems we all be seeing red

Other people’s love is good, please don’t be a hater

Don’t be a Scalia, be a Kagan or RUTH BADER

Let’s keep our fingers crossed that we will see the end of DOMA

And see some FAB new registries at Williams and Sonoma

And let’s all teach our kids to love, they hear what we’re impartin’

Do it for the greater good (and for Ricky Martin)

Word.

Reblogged from Jap Rap:

Than that one week of the month when she gets the fuckin’ CURSE

No matter what you say, there will always be a fight

For that week (and more) you’re wrong, I mean, ladies, am I right?

So don’t bother with affection, you’re just wasting all your doting

Cuz we’d rather be alone with our Chipotle, gas, and bloating

And though I do want that burrito, I’m not trying to brag

But I really don’t get moody when I’m on the fuckin’ RAG

Now, please don’t be mistaken, thinkin’ that’s so advantageous

Because lately I’m convinced that menstrual symptoms are contagious

I have lots of detailed evidence, I’m sharing just a kernel

I’MMMA publish all this shit in the New England fuckin’ JOURNAL

It’s a medical wonder, but to you I will confess:

That when I get my ladies, my man gets the PMS

I think the estrogen just floats around and does a little switchy

I get the zits and bloating and my husband GETS THE BITCHY

Don’t get me wrong, he is a dude, all manly and testicular

But on that one week he’s stubborn and he’s so crazily particular

He’s perfect all the other weeks, with hardly any flaws

So I’ll put up with all this shit UNTIL WE MENOPAUSE

I could tell so many stories cuz the instances are ample

But here is just the latest–I’M ‘BOUT TO GIVE YOU AN EXAMPLE:

Last weekend we went out of town to see our good friends marry

Our flight was Friday evening when the traffic can be hairy

We planned to cab it straight from work which was already quite darin’

But we couldn’t miss this wedding MAZEL TOV TO BEN AND ARYN

So Friday morning when he left for work, my guy knew he’d been meaning

To drop of his enormous load of dirty damn dry cleaning

‘Twas seven in the morning and of course he had supposed

That the cleaners would be open, but bitch, they were fuckin’ closed

Hong’s Cleaners is his favorite, whether April, June, or March

He goes there all year long because he LOVES THE WAY THEY STARCH

He passed by 5 other stores because their starch is “reprehensible”

So he brought that shit to work, he’s a doctor AND SO SENSIBLE

So the patients that were crying that their cancer really hurts

Were prob’ly thrilled to see their doctor AND HIS FUCKIN’ DIRTY SHIRTS

I should mention we’ve no laundry bag, so don’t misunderstand, NO

He had his shirts all free and loose: DRY CLEANING COMMANDO

But of course he came up with a plan, never once forgetting

That he wasn’t going home that night, but flying to a wedding

He’d hop right in a cab, we had a flight and we would catch it

He’d meet me with his dry cleaning and like a WIFE I’d fetch it

I drop it with my doorman who’s all, “Someone come and getting it??”

I yell back, “YEP,” jump in the cab, already regretting it

I say, “Let’s call the cleaners, not leave shirts there in obscurity”

And he’s like, “NO! WE HAVE TO WAIT ‘TIL WE GET THROUGH SECURITY”

I sigh, “OK” and didn’t say, “THAT MAKES NO FUCKING SENSE”

Cuz all these years have taught me YOU CAN’T REASON WITH THE MENSE

Now the best thing you can do is get a menstrual one some grub

Like the baller that I am I got us in the DELTA CLUB

At this point PMS was really getting kinda scary

So I go straight to the bar and get my man a bloody mary

When your man has PMS and he starts to get real colicky

Get him something spicy, pickled, and REAL alcoholicky

I snuck away to call the cleaners and I left my guy alone

(With 3 packets of Nutella and some HUMMUS IN A CONE)

So I go look up the number thinking Google’d be of help

But I couldn’t find Hong’s Cleaners there, NOT EVEN ON YELP

Nervously I searched and searched and then to my surpriser

HONG TEAM CLEANERS! THANK YOU SO MUCH, TRIP ADVISOR!

The guy answers the phone and I can’t understand a word

English isn’t his first language IT’S HIS MOTHA FUCKIN’ THIRD

I say my last name and address maybe six or seven times

I’d repeat what he yelled back but THERE AIN’T NO WAY THAT IT RHYMES

We go back and forth for minutes and now both of us are yelling

Who’d be picking up our clothes? There really was no way of telling

The chances it’d be Hong you’d think are looking rather slim, huh?

But otherwise he would have brought his LAUNDRY TO A SIMCHA

I look back at my guy who was three bloody marries deep

We stepped aboard the plane and went to MOTHAFUCKIN’ SLEEP

We had a lovely weekend, danced and drank the wine of Bacchus

We celebrated Ben and Aryn, OMG you guys, SUCH NACHES

We got back home that Sunday, took the bus from LGA

And we walked home from the bus stop and passed Hong along the way

They are always closed on Sundays, but my eye did catch their awning

And my jaw dropped to the ground (but I pretended I was yawning)

Their phone number was on it, though the digits were quite small

I knew that wasn’t who I called–UM LIKE NOT EVEN AT ALL

The shirts weren’t at my building, so who had them was a mystery

But I would crack this case, THANK YOU IPHONE CALLER HISTORY

I snuck on my computer and I got the fuckin’ hookup

Hong “TEAM” Cleaners, THANK YOU REVERSE FUCKIN’ LOOKUP

Now as far as my guy knew, there were no problems all along

And I’ll never ever tell him that I got the WRONG HONG

Within two fucking blocks how many Hongs could there be?

Well bitch, I learned the hard way that the answer here is THREE

I tracked the cleaning down and the next day went and got it

I took the plastic off and swiftly placed it in the closet

And he never had to know about this tiny little hiccup

And I went back to his Hong and signed his ass up for FREE PICK-UP

He got dressed today and said, “This starch is weird”, OH?? IS IT?!

I just told him to back off because AUNT FLO IS HERE TO VISIT.

Word.

It’s a Jewish holiday, and bitch, I don’t mean Shabbos

You may not know don’t know the story, ‘specially if you vote Santorum

So that’s why I am here today to tell y’all ’bout PURIM

The story all began with the ancient Persian King

Celebrating with his bros and simply doin’ his king thing

When he called upon his wife, the hottie Queen named Vashti

To parade around in front of them–ABSOLUTELY NASHTY

Ladies, am I right? She’s a queen and not a ho

But shit got crazy awkward after my girl Vash said NO

So the king asked his advisors what they thought that he should do

(Achashverosh needs some help with a decision or two)

If they were Jew advisors then they would have fined and billed her

But Jewish guys they weren’t, and bitch, they MOTHA FUCKIN KILLED HER

So they’re all, “So that happened…moving on…end scene”

But Achashverosh be like, “Dudes, I GOTSTA FIND ANOTHER QUEEN”

There were just so many ladies, so like how they gonna pluck her?

So they did it in a contest, LIKE THE BACHELOR MOTHA FUCKER

So now lil’ Jewish Esther’s out there with her uncle Mo

Who thinks she could be Queen and he encouraged her to go

He told her not to say she’s Jewish, and the secret never leaked

(Thank G-d she was an orphan CUZ HER MOTHER WOULDA FREAKED)

And of all the many ladies from which Achashverosh chose

Little Jewish Esther got the FUCKING FINAL ROSE

Now he doesn’t know she’s Jewish here at this point now, however

This rose ceremony was the MOST DRAMATIC EVER

Mordechai, meanwhile, stayed real close nearby the palace

And warned Esther of an evil plot and saved the king from malice

His helpful advice really saved that king’s life

And the king is like, “Remind me to say thank you to him, WIFE”

Then the king made a bad move when he decided he’d be namin’

To the job of chief advisor this motherfucker HAMAN

This dude despised the Jews, he’d kill you if you had a bagel

(And gets approved more easily than former SENATOR CHUCK HAGEL)

Haman comes across our friend, or dear little Mordechai

And demanded he bow down, like he was pledging Sigma Chi

Mordechai’s like, “…no” and when Haman heard this news

He’s all, “Bitch I’m gonna kill you and kill all y’all Jews”

Haman told the king his plan and all his nasty visions

And the king is like, “Sounds good! Because I cannot make decisions!”

Haman builds Mo’s gallows where he plans to hang and yank him

King’s like, “That dude who saved me! I totes forgot to thank him!”

So the king asks his dude Haman, “Tell me, what’s a good reward?”

Haman’s like, “The nicest horse and robe that your ass can afford”

Haman thought it’d be for him, thinking he would do the riding

But as I said before, the king just NEEDED HELP DECIDING

At the banquet that night, Esther gave her big reveal

She told the king she was a Jew, sensibly, over a meal

He heard of Haman’s plan and so he sent him to be hanged

He gave Mordechai his prize, and he and Esther prolly banged

And now we read their story in our dear old Megillah

And we scream at Haman’s (AHHHHHHHH) name cuz he a CRAZY EYE KILLA

And we all dress up in costumes and sing some Purim tunes

And we Jews turned Haman’s (AHHHHHHHHH) hat into a cookie filled with prunes

And then you’re supposed to drink until you lose all of your clarity

And nosh that fuckin’ ‘taschen (prune ones help irregularity)

So put down that Sunday Times, you’ve had enough of the sequester

And molesters, and investors, and go hang out with Queen Esther

Y’all can dress as a queen–no matter if you’re straight or gay men

I go to my own drum and dress as Vashti or as Ham-AHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH

And there you have it, PURIM! From your favorite rappin’ blogger

So now go and shake that thang (AND BY “THAT THANG” I MEAN YOUR GROGGER)

I gots to trick you all and pull this fuckin’ big reveal

Like that time I made you think I was using toys for lovin’

When really I was rappin’ bout my BREVILLE TOASTER OVEN

Or just last rap I said I had this big thing to confess

And it was that I had flu, (but fo reals I was a mess)

I think some misdirection sometimes is a little nice

Bitch, I love me some red herring LIT-ER-ARY DEVICE

But today I’ll come right out, you don’t need no fuckin’ hintin’

I’ll just say it, OH EM GEE, you guys, I MET BILL FUCKIN’ CLINTON

I just had left the gym, didn’t shower, I just went

I’m all, “Who is gonna see me? Not my FAVORITE PRESIDENT!”

I rocked my Uggs and puffy coat, Lululemon up my crotch

There was funeral traffic, REST IN PEACE TO MAYOR KOCH

So I’m waiting for the bus, just three stops, but that’s just fine

I GOTSTA USE MY MONTHLY ON THE M79

The bus stops right outside this fancy vegan restaurant

But on this afternoon three Escalades were PARKED OUT FRAUUNT

I had eaten there before, I found it gimmicky and faddish

I ordered ravioli, bitch, they made it outta RADDISH

I don’t know about y’all, but when I order ravioli

I don’t like to go home starving and eat MIDNIGHT GUACAMOLE

But after he left office and left Hills to deal with Putin

Billy boy went vegan and he cut down on his GLUTEN

So I’m standing with this Asian woman and her little son

When a guy jumps out the Escalade and then another one

They walk up to the restaurant and open up the door

And then the thing happened THAT I TOLD YOU BOUT BEFORE

BILL CLINTON emerged, bitch, the whole damn world stopped turning

It coulda been my lack of shower, but my underparts were burning

He walked right out the door and the scene played in slow motion

There was just so much to say and I was filled with such emotion

This man was good for everyone, small business and big firms

Our country saw such surplus when Bill Clinton served his terms

He led us from a dark place to unheralded prosperity

He gives hope and with his intellect, he always sheds such clarity

He’s sensible and wise and he always sticks to facts

(He’s a vegan silver fox and he could play me like a sax)

I thought of all these things and I stayed calm with all my might

When before he reached his car, he turned slightly to the right

With security around to make sure no one had a bomb

He walked right to the bus stop, UP TO ME AND ASIAN MOM

I looked into his eyes, like a sea of baby blue

And I melted to a puddle of a little rapping Jew

He extended his hand, with the secret service flanking him

I didn’t know what I should do, so I thought I’d stick to spanking him thanking him

He shook my hand, said, “Nice to meet you,” so gentle and so kind

When all my English words quickly left my little mind

I couldn’t feel my face, I could hardly even hear

So I just smiled with my whole face, bitch, from ear to shining ear

He then shook Asian Mom’s hand and her son’s hand in the middle

And he nodded back at grinning me (I maybe peed a little)

And shaking hands with him, by proxy, probably would mean

That I shook hands with the President of 20damn16

He climbed into his car, and he went along his way

And I thought a lot about the words I never got to say

I just met the greatest leader that our lives may ever know

And I thank you, crosstown bus, for always being so damn slow

And thank you, Mr. President, I never will forget you

And let’s lay off Lewinsky, folks, cuz Monica, I get you

word.

No, I’m not “single,” sorry, Jodie frickin’ Foster

And the rumors aren’t true, sorry those who were hopin’

Though I have mad flow, I ain’t RAP BLOOD DOPIN’

But it’s time I come out and be reals witch alla you

WHEW, here it goes, OK, I HAD THE FUCKIN’ FLU

When it comes to making friends, I know this news ain’t advantageous

So I waited weeks to tell ya so I’m not at all contagious

I cannot believe I got it, since I’m such a germaphobie

But I had all of these symptoms (POP THIS SHIT UP ON ADOBE)

I always wash my hands, and got a flu shot as well

Bitch, I married a doctor simply for the free Purell

I’ll explain how it went down so that you can all avert it

This is how I got the flu, I NOW WILL PUBLIC HEALTH ALERT IT

It was just a normal night, I was feelin’ good and perky

On the phone with my mom, mackin’ on some TURKEY JERKY

My ma’s all, “Whachu eating?” And I’m like, “Jerkey, of course”

STOP JUDGING ME, MOM, “IT’S A GOOD LEAN PROTEIN SOURCE”

“Well, you sound a little sick,” my mother had to denote

“I just have turkey jerky ALL UP IN MY THROAT”

I tried to clear it out and then let out a cough,

“It’s the motha fuckin’ jerky! UGH MOM, BACK OFF”

She’s like, “I’m gonna hang up, but you’re sounding rather fluish”

And I’m like, “I’MMA HANG UP, YOU SOUNDIN’ MOTHERLY AND JEWISH”

So I put down the phone, took a breath and regrouped

And I turn on CNN “HEY SEXY LIL’ SANJAY GUPT“

He was talkin’ bout the flu and said, “The symptoms come on quickly”

And all of the sudden, bitch, I started feelin’ sickly

My body got real shaky and my muscles started achin’

I looked like Liam Neeson’s daughter’s friend in fuckin’ TAKEN

(the original, BUT PROBABLY TAKEN 2 TOO, BITCH)

My temperature clocked in at a hundred and TWO

BITCH I MOTHAFUCKIN’ HAD THE FUCKIN’ MOTHAFUCKIN’ FLU

I spent the next week in a little fetal tuck

It wasn’t the jerky, my ma was right, motha FUCK

And the rest of the week, this was pretty much my story

I spend entire days in my bed with Roma Torre

All the comics would make jokes about the flu and when they went, “So you’ve heard about this flu?”

I would eek out a “REPRESENT”

I had an awesome dream my bestie was Maria Shriver

And I dreamt they gave a talk show to that host guy from Survivor

I spent five days in bed and was all sweaty and dirty

I looked just like the tortured guy in ZERO DARK THIRTY

Most people’s flus went longer, but my symptoms started slowin’

That’s because I had a flu shot, THANK YOU DOCTOR BARRY COHEN

So the moral of the story is, it just ain’t worth the plight

Wash your hands, get a flu shot, and your mother’s always right

Although, I will admit, I felt relaxed and kinda thin

And probably the trendiest that I’ve ever been

And even though I lost a week and was feeling really shitty

I think we can agree that I looked real frickin’ pretty.

word.