What do you do when things go wrong? When your plans fall flat, what’s your back up? Around here, it turns out, we podcast. We had every intention to enjoy a night at the theater, and we paid our admission and parked our butts in a couple of aisle seats. But then calamity struck and the show got cancelled. Sure, we got our money back, but then what? Hit the strip clubs? Heat up quarters with a lighter, then throw them out the car window at passing hobos? Play canasta? None of those things! Instead we headed straight home and turned on the microphones so you wouldn’t have to miss one second of our pathetic butt-hurt. That’s the thing about self-pity: even though it’s all about you, it’s only any fun if you share.
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From Skullard’s Postcard Collection: Now here’s a charming couple. Is this supposed to be Archie and Betty? If so, Betty needs to dial back on the lip stick a little. She certainly seems to enjoy sucking cream from his straw. The way Archie is leering, he doesn’t seem to mind. Think he’s going to try and take her cherry? Okay, these kind of lines are too easy. Considering that Sunday the 18th is Bad Poetry Day, Skullard offered to write a bad poem about a postcard of Luka’s choice and this is the card she picked. What follows is the poem he wrote, destined to be included one day in an anthology entitled “Poems For The Lowest Common Denominator.”
From their very first encounter at the Walgreen’s soda counter
He knew he had to mount her so he asked her out right there
She didn’t seem insulted and his spirit was exalted
When she said, “Buy me a malted and maybe we can share.”
She acted fairly flirty and though she said nothing dirty
Just the way she filled her shirt he nearly came there at the sight
Her straw work was seductive making him feel reproductive
And he thought he might get fucked if he could play his cards just right
He wished he had a roofie to get this girly goofy
Because in honest truth he had no talent in romance
Instead he offered booze he hoped would make her far less choosy
So this soda-fountain floozie would let him in her pants
But she eyed him with a snicker. “Did you really think that liquor
would hit me like a brick?” Her tone suggested it would not
“Look, if you want to pair up, whoever did your hair up
Like some hemorrhoidal flair up should be taken out and shot
“And did your Mommy pick that sweater? If she did then you should get her
Nicer glasses that work better because that one is a miss
And if you want my diagnosis, the judgment of my nose is
That your chronic halitosis stinks worse than buzzard piss
“Plus I’m really quite disgusted how your pants are half-encrusted
And I’m sure your fly is rusted by the seepage from your schlong
And I don’t know who told ya you could buy a girl a soda
And just for that she owed ya something sexy, but they’re wrong”
After such a verbal beating he ended up retreating
Despairing how the meeting didn’t work out like he planned
Back home he sat and pondered on the chance that he had squandered
And through his mind she wandered as he gave himself a hand
