“I cannot go to work today!” said little Parry E., SHAWTAY!
I have girl cramps and a dry throat,
My pants feel tight, I’ve got that bloat,
My calves are tight from one gym class,
I’m real grossed out by my fat ass,
Last night one glass turned into four,
And not just small ones, Parry Pours,
This weather’s weird, should I wear socks?
Remember when I had green Crocs?
Seriously. I had green Crocs and wore them in public for several years during college.
My neck hurts when I do my hair,
Screw this milkmaid braid, I DON’T CARE!
I swore I’d wear a pencil skirt,
And iron that new stark white shirt,
But fuck that shit, I ain’t got time,
To waste on irons in my prime,
I’m ironed out from senior year,
When I worked at Cheesecake Factory and had to produce five fucking creases in my heinous all-white uniform (with matching clogs).
Instead I’ll throw on dark green jeans,
Baggy sweater (sniff) — Is this clean?
Studded boots and drapey coat,
Can’t … button … GODDAMN THIS LADYTIME BLOAT!
Grouchy, crabby, grumpy, BOO.
I hate Mondays. How about you?
And … what? What’s that you say? You say I get paid hourly so I should probably suck it up, grab a latte and get a move on? Wait. They increased the subway fare by $.25? When did that happen?! Does anyone actually read more than 3 full pages of AM New York? What a waste.
Shel Silverstein, eat your heart out.