Category Archives: Family
10
It’s summer and you think I’m gonna rap ’bout somethin’ lotional
Today’s a little different, y’all, forgive me if I’m ‘motional
Let’s take a little breather, slow it down and maybe park it
Put away your kale from your co-op hipster market
Let’s gather like it’s Pesach, all my sisters and my brothers
While I tell you why this night is so much DIFFERENT FROM THE OTHERS
So let’s all listen up, just relax or take a pill
And I’ll tell y’all the story cuz this shit ’bout to get RIL
Ten years ago today, in his junior year of college
Was a Jewey little pre-med who was fillin’ up with knowledge
(And frat parties and beer, but like, he was young and bonery
and KINDA maybe KINDA SORTA just a LITTLE stonery)
And while the other kids at Michigan sang “Hail to the VIC”
He was singin, “HAELLL, you guys, I feel kinda SICK”
He went and got some blood tests and was soon faced with the answer
And headed to the hospital with motherfucking cancer
When you go off to college, you might worry ’bout bulimia
And OBVIOUSLY herpes, but for real y’all, LEUKEMIA?
He did chemo, radiation, and the outcome still looked narrow
The kid needed a transplant of like, ALL of his bone marrow
He comes from this great family, they’re there for one another
And luckily he found a match in his little brother
(On a side note, join the donor list, PREACH THAT, Doctor Oz,
It’s tough to match minorities like blacks and ASHKENAZ)
In the midst of this he met a girl, which might sound real alarming
He may have been all bald and sick but WORKED it, and was charming
They chatted on IM (You remember that? I’m old…)
And she was super awesome, or like, that’s what I am told
They counted down his quarantine, the hurdles and the hoops
Their first kiss sent him to the hospital–can I get an OOPS?
So she asked him how long it would be till he’s out of the wood?
And he said 10 years post-transplant would be like, REALLY REALLY good
Ten years seemed like forever, so they just went on with life
They finished school, started careers, and then the girl became his wife
If you measure life in love LIKE RENT, then they had lots of wealth
And were thankful every day, for each other, and their health
And the boy became a cancer doc, yea, that deserves some clapping
The girl became an actress and she dabbles in Jew rapping
And though you can’t say ten whole years ever goes by fast
The day they waited for so long is finally here at last
I’m jappy rappy, never sappy, but these years have been a whirl
I’m so grateful for this guy, and I’m so lucky I’m his girl
If the cheesiness ain’t too much yet, well, now I’m ’bout to ruin it
Know where he’s at work today? The bone marrow transplant unit
He says fate can gently guide you, but sometimes it’s a firm push
And he’s one hell of a doctor, and has one hell of a tush
I try not to rap too personal, I usually berate it
But when life gives you a gift like this, you have to celebrate it
Life is full of ups and downs, it comes with hope and doubt
And there’s times when you should have your cake and blow your candles out
Happy 10 years, my sweet love, you took cancer and you beat it
Today’s the day you’ll have your cake and motherfuckin’ eat it
So let’s all celebrate today, even just a sliver
Cuz I have got a cake I’ve waited ten years to deliver
word.
Equality, Bitch.
So I’m riding on the subway with my fellow Jews & goys
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.
Trust, Bitch.
Yo sometimes I leave town when I’m doin’ a show
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)Marriage, Bitch.
With Delaware there’s now eleven states in our great nation
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.
My Birthday, Bitch.
Yo–I had a special day, y’all–don’t just sit there i-dl-y
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.
Equality, Bitch.
So I’m riding on the subway with my fellow Jews & goys
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.
Menstrual Man, Bitch.
If you’re livin’ with a lady, then you know there’s nothing worse
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 marys 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.
Holiday Recap, Bitch.
‘Twas the holiday season, so I took a little breather
For New Years and for Christmas, (even though I’m no believer)
So everybody clap your hands and maybe shake a titty
And I’ll tell you ’bout my holidays RIGHT HERE IN NEW YORK CITY
The greatest city in the world, at the best of the year
Christmas day’s my favorite when I spend it UP IN HERE
I made some coffee in my Chemex which I bought at Sur La Table
And hopped aboard the train to see LES FUCKIN’ MISERABLES
The only tickets I could get required us to travel down
DON’T UNDERESTIMATE HOW MANY JEWS LIVE HERE UPTOWN
Now, this is real embarrassing, I am quite ashamed to tout
I had never seen the show, I never knew what it’s about
I know, I know, I’m sorry, on Yom Kippur I’ll repent
But for now, I saw the movie, SO I’LL TELL YOU HOW IT WENT
Jean Valjean stole what must’ve been some really damn good bread
Fantine becomes a whore because of her enormous head
She sings and cries real hard and it’s emotionally draining
And she let the cameraman fulfill his endoscopic training
I thought I heard a sheep with Parkinson’s, but that was just Cosette
And I felt bad for Eponine, so single, and so wet
The rebels fought on mounds of furniture, just asking for an injury
While Marius was hiding that he’s really rich and gingery
Javert falls real far to the water down below
And I kinda didn’t mind, I couldn’t listen to him CROWe
They all die and wave a flag and sing a big ol’ song
You should go, but bring a catheter, it’s eighteen hours long
And so we left the movie and the streets were calm and placid
And we made our way to Chinatown and each popped an antacid
As Jewish folk, we’re prone to acid reflux damn disease
And we’re also prone on Christmas day to eat some DAMN CHINESE
I thought we’d go downtown and celebrate Chinese ethnicity
So we went to Spicy Village, bitch, I’m all ’bout authenticity
We got the big hot pot of chicken from a waitress who was toneless
But it freaked my Jew boy out cuz HE PREFERS HIS CHICKEN BONELESS
Which brings me to the new year, bitch, you just would not believe
What it’s like to be in NYC on NEW YEARS FUCKIN’ EVE
You’ll pay a ton at shitty restaurants, fixed menus and bad food
Bitch, I wouldn’t pay that much for Daniel fuckin’ BOULUD
You could pay a ton for parties and before the bubbly’s popped
You’re surrounded by obnoxious kids whose own balls haven’t dropped
And you kiss someone at midnight cuz you think that sounds like fun
And you start the new year off with herpes simplex TYPE ONE
We totally were gonna go to a crazy rager
But my husband is a doctor, it’d be hard to hear his pager
So we stayed in our apartment, locked the deadbolt on the door
And we had our favorite new years, which I really do adore
We order tons of shitty tacos, the worst we can obtain
And pair them with a bottle of fantastic-ass champagne
And we eat and drink and get into a gassy drunken stupor
And watch some Kathy Griffin and a giggly Andy Cooper
I find the best of holidays are drama-free and braless
And spent with the one I the love most–these holidays were flawless
So there you have my full recap, from Christmas to the ball
And a very happy new year from Jap Rapper to y’all.
word.
Jap Rap 