Tag Archives: Candy

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)
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Movie Date, Bitch.

I went on a date with my husband, yo

We wanted to stay in, but I told that fucker NO

We’re not staying home like a bunch of married suckers

There’s only one thing to do: MUPPET MOVIE MOTHA FUCKAS

So we set out on our date, and we’re lookin’ pretty posh

And we stop at Dylan’s Candy Bar cuz this bitch needs a NOSH

Five dollas for Twizzlers at the theatre is a curse

So I get my own shit and I STUFF IT IN MY PURSE

Dylan’s is real crowded–those sticky kids all verminy

But mama needs some CANDY CORN and gummy bears from Germany

I look over at my husband and I’m sure he’s getting randy

Watching me knock over kids to buy a pound of candy

We continue on our movie date, I can’t wait to begin it

My purse won’t even close because there’s SO MUCH CANDY IN IT

$12 for a ticket, bitch, that really is an oucher

But you can count on me to bring my LIVING SOCIAL VOUCHER

Going to the movies, bitch, can really make you broke

But $5 won’t keep me from a GIGANTIC DIET COKE

So we sit down to our movie date all ready to get jiggy

Cuz there ain’t nothing sexier than Kermie and Miss Piggy

This lady sitting next to me is talking on her phone

I wanna punch her face, but I just leave the bitch alone

If I wasn’t on this date I’d prob’ly poke her in the eye

When all of the sudden I hear a baby start to cry

I look to my left thinking someone must be joking

And I see a fucking baby, ok, now I’ll start eye pokin’

Now I really love babies, but this shit is uncanny

Either don’t come to the movies, or just get yoself a NANNY

Then I see a flash–I look up at the light fixtures,

But bitch, hold the phone, there’s a FELLA TAKIN PICTURES

He whispers “Smile! Say cheese!” and his daughter starts to squeal

And he starts flashin’ away–THIS SHIT CANNOT BE FO REAL

I grab my husband’s leg and I cough into my sleeve

PICTURES IN THE PICTURES, bitch, do you even BELIEVE?

Infants and flash photos, bitch now that should be illegal

‘Specially at films with Fozzie Bear and Jason Segel

Now, I’m a good moviegoer unlike all of these fools

I don’t add my own soundtrack, bitch, I all follow the rules

I was gonna say something, but I ain’t no complainer

I pitch in and throw my trash in the SPECIFIED CONTAINER

I walk out of the movie thinkin’ what a fuckin’ joke

(and I gots to stop and tinkle cuz of ALL THAT DIET COKE)

We start the long walk home and I gather up my pride

That’s what I get for seein’ movies on the UPPA EAST SOOIIDE

I’ll see the film again, and I’ll concentrate for real

(but now I gotsta wait for a LIVING SOClAL DEAL)

And for our next date, to avoid this same result

We’ll maybe see something that’s a little more adult

Perhaps we’ll see a porno, my husband’d prolly love it

I guess that would be funny–I’ll take a picture of it

word.

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Halloween, Bitch.

Yo yo yo it’s that time of year

When a little eight-year-old dressed as Golda Meir

Comes and knocks on my door and I fill her sack with suckers

Yo trick-or-treat, Bitch, it’s HALLOWEEN MOTHAFUCKAS

Halloween’s fun for the young and old

But as a kid in Ohio, it was mothafuckin’ cold

And as a damper on things for me and my brother

We had to wear our jackets, THANKS A LOT JEWISH MOTHER

This shit pissed me off cuz I couldn’t even gloat

‘Bout the kick-ass costume that was covered by my coat

And I’d look at my mom in pure disbelief

And I’d say “Fine bitch, I’ll wear that jacket UNDERNEAF”

While other girls dressed as sluts, and the boys as the deceased

I was happy to be warm and dressed UP AS THE OBESED

And at least all my neighbors were able to tell

I was the best fat Sally fuckin’ JESSE RAPHAEL

Now for the kids in NYC, these problems simply don’t exist

They just go through their halls to the apartments on their list

And they don’t need their coats and they look so much leaner

I give them candy and smile.

They can suck my Halloweener.

word.

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