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”


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


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


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.


Learn the Trade, Bitch.

Yo New York City is that kind of a town

With lots of places to go when you feel like gettin’ down

They’ve got lounges and bars and clubs with bottle service

But slutty girls and sparklers make me ITCHY and NERVOUS

The drinks there are expensive and the bathrooms always dirty

I prefer somewhere clean and much more Hawaiian shirty

So when I wanna hang with my bitches and hoes

I grab my canvas bags and I head to TRADER JOE’S

I walk in the door and I get the party started

There’s no bouncer, but a GREETER and he gets me SHOPPING CARTED

I get on my way and I tell my husband SEE YAS

Cuz mama’s gotta get some fuckin’ whole wheat tortillas

The guy stocking yogurt is kinda a putz

I’ll come back and get it later and I’ll stock up on some NUTS

Then this little Jew girl really thinks she’s seein’ Jesus

When I get to the wall of AFFORDABLE CHEESES

Then the snack food aisle makes all the bitches horny

I get peanut butter pretzels and all CRAZY KETTLE CORNEY

There’s shampoo for your hair, for your feet they’ve got pumice

But the real shiznit is that HORSERADISH HUMMUS

Yogurt! There you are! I will come and I will get you!

Don’t you DARE think for a second that I’d ever forget you

I get all the new items cuz I love me some change

Then get a dozen eggs WHAT WHAT FREE RANGE

The fun doesn’t stop even when I’m in line

A pound of dark chocolate for A DOLLAR NINETY-NINE

And so I wait my turn and I’m admiring my load

And they ring their little bells


We get up to the front and I jump and celebrate

And they wave the little flag and tell me LINE 28

We go to check out, the guy scans my chicken patty

And my husband rolls his eyes cuz this dude’s OVERLY CHATTY

He talks about each item and it kinda takes forever

But I don’t mind a bit, thank you, TRADER JOE’S TREVOR

The bill is so cheap and my husband is stoked

Bitch, I need a cigarette and I ain’t NEVA even smoked

So we got enough food to fill an auditorium

Bitch I’m never goin’ back to fuckin’ Food Emporium


Love, Bitch.

Yo, flowers and chocolates and really good food

Are just some of the things that put folks in the mood

Some look at porn whenever they’re able

Or watch Robin Byrd (cuz it’s on basic cable)

Some get turned on when they meet girls at bars

Or buy blow up dolls, like that real girl with Lars

Now I love my husband, he knows I adore him

Cuz I know exactly the thing that does it for him

And if you’re good, I’ll tell you my tip

Nothing turns a man on like a GOOD COSTCO TRIP

At only 5’7 he feels like the Hulk

When my man is able to buy his shit in bulk

Shampoo, paper towels, 3 flip cam recorders

My apartment looks like it’s a scene out of HOARDERS

We’ve got 35 yogurts with fruit on the bottom

100 super tampons? OH BITCH, you BET I got ’em

Got a liter of Gold Bond for when your balls itch

Don’t cut me for samples, cuz like, I will choke a bitch

My guy’s got a swagger unmatched by Don Draper

With 84 rolls of 3-ply toilet paper

(that’s like 252 1-ply rolls, BITCH)

So whenever my man is feelin’ real beddish

I gladly give in to his WILD Costco fetish

Please heed my advice, I find it applies

Especially well to like, ALL JEWISH GUYS

So forget the champagne and the horse-drawn carriage

And head up to Costco,

Hells yeah, bitch, that’s marriage.