Category Archives: Relationships

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.japequality

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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.

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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.

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Party Foul, Bitch.

Ho Ho Ho, bitch! ‘Tis the fuckin’ season

To throw a fuckin’ party for just any rhyme or reason

Time to take a vacay (or pretend and wear some bronzer)

And light all of the lights for Jesus, Hanukkah, or Kwanzaar

But before you head out and party with your friends or firms

I feel I need to teach you to spread CHEER and not your GERMS

I’ve rapped to you before ’bout how to keep from getting sick

But there’s one germy threat happ’nin’ at parties IN PARTIC

Now I’m not a fan of parties, though I know most of you are

I’d rather eat Chinese and watch The View on DVR

But I always end up going cuz I’m not a fuckin’ flake

I go to spread the joy, but bitch, I mostly go for CAKE

Actually I prob’ly should be slightly more specific

I could do without the cake itself, but FROSTING IS TERRIFIC

Open bars are nice, but bitch, ain’t nothing more enticing

Than a fuckin’ slice of cake with a WHOLE SHIT-TON OF ICING

And my husband won’t eat frosting! NOPE! The cake part’s all he eats

That’s why we got married, bitch, ECONOMY OF TREATS

He know’s all he’s got do if he wants to get some nookie

Is to let me make a bitch out of a BLACK & WHITE COOKIE (only the white side, duh)

And so I’m here to tell you all something that really makes me scowl

My number one all time biggest fuckin’ party foul

It’s an issue that dates back to when I was a lil’ child

When the coolest girl in school had this birthday that was wild

At that roller skating rink with the disco lights for Thriller

The coolest kids in school were there, the GOODIE BAGS WERE KILLER

And then her mom brought out the cake–it was white with chocolate drizzle

There was tons of fuckin’ frosting, bitch, this cake was off the HIZZLE

And her mom cut her the first piece, which of course I thought was fine

Do I really need to tell you who was fucking next in line?

And then the most horrific thing I had seen in my young life

Her mothafuckin’ mom LICKED the MOTHAFUCKIN’ KNIFE!

She put the knife back in the cake and my eyes were wide with horror

She cut me off a piece and my jaw dropped on the FLOORER

I watched her do it ever time, licking all that fucking frosting

And I simply couldn’t eat the cake, THAT SHIT WAS DISGOSTING

Which brings us to last week when I was faced with this aGAIN

Now I’m all adult and shit, toasting my champagne

When all of the sudden I got real enthusiastic

When they brought out a cake that looked FUCKING FANTASTIC

This cake looked so amazing, it looked like an utter dream

With tons of salted caramel fuckin’ buttercream

The bartender began to cut amidst my great emotion

And all of the sudden things just went into slow motion

He wiped the knife off on his hand and of course my gaze did linger

As he slowly sucked the frosting off of EVERY FUCKING FINGER

It was like a fucking crime, I shoulda called the dang police

As he went and stuck those hands in every motherfuckin’ piece

Pensively I took my slice, and perhaps it was the booze

But I knew cake was something that was just too good to lose

And that shit was so damn good, you guys, I swear I’d give fellatio

To the baker who decided on that frosting to cake ratio

And I’m glad I stretched my bounds a bit, this Hanukkah I grew

But this entire fuckin’ week I’ve had the mothafuckin’ flu

So simply to avoid this very tragic party foul

I urge you to use protection, wipe your knife off on a towel

And that girl whose mom was gross, well, she turned out kinda groovy

You can all see her this Christmas starring in that Les Miz movie

(Totally kidding, it wasn’t Anne Hathaway. But it would be crazy if it was, right?)

word.

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Harvest, Bitch.

There’s a chill in the air and it’s feelin’ pretty nice

And when you go into a Starbucks yous be gettin’ pumpkin spice

So break out that padded vest, put away them seersuckers

It’s my favorite time of year, IT’S THE HARVEST MOTHAFUCKAS

Time to go jump in the leaves and time to follow me on twitter

Time to pick some apples and then eat a frickin’ fritter

And boys, it’s time you find a bitch to take under your covers

Cuz I’m telling you, you heard it here, THE HARVEST IS FOR LOVERS

And to get yourself a lady you need tips, well boys, I got ’em

If you follow my instructions you will get some tail this autumn

The secret to make sure that you will get some harvest lovin’

It be right under your nose, right in your MOTHAFUCKIN’ OVEN

You don’t need no sexy music, you don’t need no water bed

All you need to know is how to make a PUMPKIN BREAD

Now if baking freaks you out and you normally eschew it

Don’t worry, mothafucka, I’MMA TEACH YOU HOW TO DO IT

First you take a cup a sugar, cream it with a stick of butter

Give your bitch a little wink and then her heart will go aflutter

Add a teaspoon of vanilla and two eggs and stir it well

(Maybe crack the eggs beforehand YOU DON’T WANT NO BITS OF SHELL)

In a different bowl add flour, like a whole cup and a half

(And verify your bitch is clean of STDs or STAPH)

Add a half teaspoon of salt and one teaspoon baking soda

And to get her in the mood just turn on Kathy Lee and Hoda

Mix all that shit together and then soon she’ll know what’s up

When to that you add some pumpkin ONE ENTIRE FUCKIN’ CUP

Now for my big secret that’ll really make her scream

To that you add a half a cup of fuckin’ SOUR CREAM

SOUR CREAM? You may ask? BITCH YOU CRAZY, MAKE NO SENSE!

But you betta believe–it makes that loaf so MOIST AND DENSE

Sour cream and pumpkin is a combo that’s climactic

It’s creamy and it’s tangy from the acid that’s all LACTIC

Now she’ll really want you but you gots to tell her “IN A MIN”

Cuz you gots to add a teaspoon of some fuckin’ cinnamon

And you make you lady wait, even though by now she’s beggin’

You need a half a teaspoon–you be gettin NUTEGGIN

And one last thing to make sure you be gettin in her hips

Stir in some fuckin’ semi-sweet CHOCOLATE FUCKIN CHIPS

Pour it in a loaf pan that you’ve parchmented or greased

Bake at 350 for an hour, brotha, YOURE A FUCKIN’ BEAST

Then go and get your freak on and a pumpkiny aroma

Will wake you up like Folgers from your fall post-coital coma

And I promise you there’s no way that that chick was even faking

Though I cannot guarantee she didn’t use you for your your baking

And if you think baking’s girly work, best for a maid or elf

I’ve got a BINDER FULL OF WOMEN telling you to fuck yourself

So go and get your bake on, don’t you think of hesitating

(This works especially well if she is fat or menstruating)

And when all is said and done you can go cuddle up beside her

And instead of cigarettes cool off with pumpkin bread and cider

word.

(recipe adapted from http://www.food.com/recipe/sour-cream-pumpkin-bread-157475)

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Bagels, Bitch.

YO every Sunday morning all we Jews go on a mission

Like Tevye told Lazar Wolf, “THIS SHIT IS OUR TRADITION”

You jump right out of bed (where you are practicing your kagels)

And you get your ass in line to get some MOTHA FUCKIN’ BAGELS

I don’t want no fancy shit, NO THANKS, BAREFOOT CONTESSA

I used to go to H&H but now I go to ESS-A

And fellas, if you want a bitch, before you go and pork her

Take her out for bagels, see if she’s a true New Yorker

You don’t need no background check, no need to check her references

All you need to know is in her FUCKIN’ BAGEL PREFERENCES

Yo don’t want a bitch who goes and orders a dozen

They’ll be bad in 3 hours, eat them HOT NOW, COUSIN

She’ll tell you she’ll just freeze ’em when she gives her big-ass order

Back the fuck away, you’ve found a FUCKIN’ BAGEL HOARDER

If she likes a lot of seeds, I’m talkin’ sesame or poppy

And gets ’em all up in her teeth, then you can bet that bitch is sloppy

You know she’ll be a downer with some deep, depressing ballad

If she orders MOTHAFUCKIN’ WHITEFISH MOTHAFUCKIN’ SALAD

Girls are fun and quirky if they order pumpernickel

She’ll be easy if she gets herself a BIG FULL SOUR PICKLE

Beware of cinnamon raisin, if you know what I mean

They may be real hot but they’re like, SO under eighteen

She’s real Jewey if she asks them, “Can you scoop it out please??”

Yeah, bitch, you’ll get real skinny once you fill that shit with CHEESE

If you wanna bag a shiksa, then you know that you’ll be safe

If she gets bacon on that bagel–LEMME HEAR YA SAY TRAIF

And a bitch who gets a flagel will be sure to take good care of ya

She maximizes overall POTENTIAL SCHMEARING AREA

A bitch who really knows the perfect schmear-to-bagel ratio

In my informal study, tends to give the best fellatio

She knows to spread it evenly, across the whole diameter

She even knows to rap it out in I-AM-BIC PENTAMETER (or really more heptameter…if she’s really awesome)

I can always tell a guy who had a bagel bitch come ova

To me, the smell of love is wholewheat everything and NOVA

And for some extra credit, after you go make your nookie

Forget the cigarette and have a BLACK AND WHITE COOKIE

So why are you still home? Go get some bitches up in here

Get your ass some bagels with some MOTHAFUCKIN SCHMEAR

word.

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My Sweetie, Bitch.

Yo just last week was our anniversary

And marriage, let me say, is everything I’d hoped it’d be

We’re partners and lovers, a team and best friends

We watch The Bachelorette and fall asleep before it ENDS

These past four years have truly been nothing short of heaven

He does wake up before me cuz he has to work at seven

And every day I wake up knowing just what I’ll encounter

When I walk into the kitchen and I look upon the counter

Although he leaves so quietly and doesn’t make a racket

HE NEVER FUCKIN’ THROWS AWAY HIS MOTHER FUCKIN’ SPLENDA PACKET

Ya see, we love our coffee maker, like I can’t even express-o

A morning ain’t a morning til this bitch has her Nespresso

He always makes his cappuccino from the comfort of our home

He knows just how to sweeten it and not disturb his FOAM

Two thirds of a Splenda, and he stirs in gingerly

I’M DOWN WITH OCD, YEAH YOU KNOW ME

He drinks his morning java and he cleans up the machine

He puts on that little stethoscope and flees the fuckin’ scene

So then I wake up about an hour or so later

And see some yellow on the counter next to the ‘frigerator

Believe it or not, he’s a doctor, not a trucker

BUT HE NEVER THROWS AWAY THAT SPLENDA PACKET MOTHA FUCKER

The trash can’s right below, it don’t require you to think

(We Jews all keep our garbage cans underneath the sink)

Now my husband is real brilliant, this fact I must admit

He not only is a doctor, but does RESEARCH AND SHIT

If you have a question, you can bet he’ll have an answer

I bet him a B.J. that he’ll probably cure cancer

There is nary a disease that he cannot diagnose

BUT HE CANNOT THROW AWAY THAT MOTHA FUCKIN’ SUCRALOSE

This problem used to take place only in our house

Cuz who would clean your Splenda up other than your spouse?

But the other day we stopped to get an iced coffee or two

At this little shop by us that does a mean COLD BREW

I knew he wouldn’t do it there, so I just took sip

But I turned around and saw that he had left out JUST THE TIP

Just the TIP of the Splenda, yeah–word to your mom

Just the TIP? It’s a coffee shop–not the fuckin’ PROM

It’s like my smart sexy man has this crazy presumption

That the world needs to keep tabs on his Splenda consumption

He can’t believe he does this cuz he’s usually so neat

And he always says he’s sorry cuz he’s NAT-U-RALLY SWEET

And he goes to hold my hand, and I feel his wedding ring

In these past four years of marriage, bitch, I wouldn’t change a thing

He says he’ll try to change next time, but really I don’t care

Cuz that little yellow packet lets me know that he was there

We just went out for coffee at this little cafe

He said, “Don’t you even worry, I know what you’re gonna say”

“It’s our fifth year of marriage now, so Baby, let’s begin it”

And he walked right by the garbage and he threw his Splenda in it on itImageword.

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