Valentine’s Day, Bitch.

YO it’s fuckin’ February I ain’t Punxsutawney Phillin’

6 more weeks of winter, bitch, that groundhog he BE ILLIN’

(I be illin’ too, so you ain’t hearin’ my inflection

I got a–WHAT WHAT–RESPIRATORY INFECTION)

AND all this homophobia–it gets me all emoshi

So I cannot watch The Bachelor or STRAIGHT PEOPLE IN SOCHI

This ain’t no time for hatred, go and coz beneath your covers

Cuz it’s Februrary, bitch, and it’s for MOTHER FUCKIN’ LOVERS

It’s the time to get real lucky (like with peens or like, vagines)

Cuz it’s fuckin’ mother fuckin’ FRIGGIN FUCKIN’ VALENTINE’S READ MO, YO!

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

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.

222814_904360891545_1280311_n(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.

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

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.

I Met Bill Clinton, Bitch.

Yo I write the little raps, y’all, and oftentimes I feel

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 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.