The intellectual equivalent of a ham sandwich.

Posts tagged ‘Poem’

De Jour of the Week (2/7/11)

With some changes at work I have a new boss (my ‘tech lead’). He has a pony-tail! I don’t know why men with pony-tails make me giggle, but they do. He seems like a super smart, nice guy, so that’s cool. But that didn’t stop me from writing this dumb poem.

Ode to My Pony-Tail Boss

Life comes
and life goes
But your pony-tail
ever grows

Men may mock
and women gander
All the while the pony-tail
gets ever grander

Oh!
I picture you sprinting!
Hair flying behind
in the sun glinting!

Does your intellectual prowess
from there derive?
You’ve unlocked
warp-hair-speed drive

His and her sinks
his and her closets
Both you and your wife
make pony-tail holder deposits

I wonder
when you were a boy
Did you have a rat-tail
with dreams of pony-tail joy?

When morale is low
will you say with a smile
“I’ll do pig tails to cheer you up,
“Just for a little while”

Now this poem comes to a close
my boss is looking uncomfortable
I’ve been staring at him and debating
giving his hair a pull

De Jour of the Week (1/24/11)

I know I’ve already touched on this – but seriously it’s gross when people don’t wash their hands after using the bathroom. Especially, as one co-worker does, if they’ve just used the stall and don’t wash their hand.

People are Gross

It’s 230 and something’s the matter
And the matter is my bladder

At lunch, free refills on coke? I’ll take another round
My ability to stop could not be found

And now it’s 230 and there’s that pressing MATTER
Yes, it’s my grandpa bladder

Up, up, and away to the little boys room
An ‘accident’ at work would be office-talk doom

There’s Jerry, there’s Bob – the fellas sit a few cubes over
The urinals sing, red rover, red rover, send bladders right over

Sweet relief! I couldn’t be happier
I head to the sinks to clean my hands this day once more

There … goes … Jerry?
That stinking, disgusting, I never want to share a stapler, printer, office with … Jerry.

Homeboy doesn’t even LOOK at the sink!
He checked himself out in the mirror, but all I see is a fink.

And Bob. Oh, Bob. He rinsed his hands then ‘touched up’ his hair
(Though to be fair, let’s be honest Bob, there’s not much there)

Bob, it’s called soap
Learn it, live it, love it, you dope

Bob, you disgust me
Urine is gross, Jerry

Oh – I hadn’t even noticed Doug in the stall
And now Doug’s glancing at the mirrors … don’t tell me that’s all

I’ll end the poem here –
I’ve made my point clear

People don’t wash their hands, and that’s a fact
So the next time you go to shake hands, consider a retract

Ladies, and fellas, if you catch someone not washing their hand
Wait til they’re in public, then reprimand, reprimand, reprimand.

De Jour of the Week (1/10/11)

Motto

Tomato, tomah-to
Here’s my motto
Drink til you’re happy
Not til you’re sappy