Welcome to Week Three of the American Midol---If I'm Not Happy, Nobody's Happy Really Bad Poetry Contest!
3 New Entrants stepped up for the last round. Thank you all!
Next Monday, the top 10 finalists will battle for prizes. For rules, prizes, and other fine print, go here.
Vote for your favorite bad poet! The comments section is open until next Monday for audience participation in this round. The rules are as follows:
1). Each reader vote counts as 1/2 a point.
2). Readers may only vote once each round/week.
3). Anonymous comments/votes will not be counted and will be deleted unless the author provides their blog url with their vote.
3 New Entrants stepped up for the last round. Thank you all!
Next Monday, the top 10 finalists will battle for prizes. For rules, prizes, and other fine print, go here.
Vote for your favorite bad poet! The comments section is open until next Monday for audience participation in this round. The rules are as follows:
1). Each reader vote counts as 1/2 a point.
2). Readers may only vote once each round/week.
3). Anonymous comments/votes will not be counted and will be deleted unless the author provides their blog url with their vote.
A special welcome to our judges!
Mr. Fabulous
from
Annie Drogynous
from
It Puts the Lotion in the Basket...
Beki
from
Backwards in High Heels
Ma Titwonky
from
Now, on with the show!!
______________ .jpg)
Contestant #14
.jpg)
Contestant #14
WarCryGirl
at
Ode to Poop
Oh poop, with your ever changing color, changing like the seasons,
brown, green, yellow and the occasional orange;
Your creaminess and bouquet, sometimes tangy bringing tears to the eyes,
sometimes fruity yet always satisfying.
Poop you amaze me, with your textures, sometimes nutty, sometimes lumpy,
sometimes smooth as ice cream. How I love you, poop, yet sometimes you do not love me back, with the cramps and the ability to clear a room.
Why have you forsaken me, Poop!
And yet and I know no matter how long it has been since I've seen you,
I know you'll be back, making me wipe over and over and over and over,
like slowing down to gawk at a car accident. You don't want to look...and yet you do.
I will always remember you, Poop.
Ma Titwonky: This person has, with mere words, captured exactly the essence of Fuzzlenuts' eyes in line two. Add to that the powerfully odious imagery (it's almost like the writer is squatting next to me), and I give this one an 8.
Annie: Oh. My. Elvis. I can honestly say this is the shittiest poem ever.
My gag reflex was triggered several times while trying to read this. The
fact that you tried to compare your turds to wine make me ill. I'm giving
you a 9 because you made me lose my appetite not once, but many times today.
Mr. Fab: I don't think I want to know what someone has to eat to make them poop orange. If I'm being honest, this entry made me squirm. Ugh. I have to give it a 9. Wretchedly scatalogically icky.
Beki:
Oh poop, with your ever changing color, changing like the seasons,
brown, green, yellow and the occasional orange;
Your creaminess and bouquet, sometimes tangy bringing tears to the eyes,
sometimes fruity yet always satisfying.
Poop you amaze me, with your textures, sometimes nutty, sometimes lumpy,
sometimes smooth as ice cream. How I love you, poop, yet sometimes you do not love me back, with the cramps and the ability to clear a room.
Why have you forsaken me, Poop!
And yet and I know no matter how long it has been since I've seen you,
I know you'll be back, making me wipe over and over and over and over,
like slowing down to gawk at a car accident. You don't want to look...and yet you do.
I will always remember you, Poop.
Ma Titwonky: This person has, with mere words, captured exactly the essence of Fuzzlenuts' eyes in line two. Add to that the powerfully odious imagery (it's almost like the writer is squatting next to me), and I give this one an 8.
Annie: Oh. My. Elvis. I can honestly say this is the shittiest poem ever.
My gag reflex was triggered several times while trying to read this. The
fact that you tried to compare your turds to wine make me ill. I'm giving
you a 9 because you made me lose my appetite not once, but many times today.
Mr. Fab: I don't think I want to know what someone has to eat to make them poop orange. If I'm being honest, this entry made me squirm. Ugh. I have to give it a 9. Wretchedly scatalogically icky.
Beki:
Your talk of poo
makes me feel blue
and green
Your rhymes are crass
When talking of ass
and out of it
It isn't the worse I've seen
I'm being mean
I give it 5
Total for badness: 31 points
____________________________
Contestant 15:
Leon, Husband of Jennifer at A Rambling Canuck
"Vote for my poem you Limey jerk!
Don’t you have 4 computers at work?"
This is all I hear all day,
"vote for my poem, vote for it now."
Now I’m not one to complain about women and shit,
but just read her poem and you must admit,
it really is a pile of crap...
F#ck, I guess I’m sleeping on the couch tonight.
She thinks its so bad, being on the rag,
you should try being a husband and dad.
I think I may not be that bright,
I'll being the one bleeding tonight.
Anyway, she isn’t winning this contest, not wise,
So vote for me and I’ll give her the prize.
Jennifer from a Rambling Canuck.
And I have to sleep with that at night. F#ck.
Ma Titwonky: This one leaves me cold. Males responding to female angst always use the trite reference to sleeping on the couch. Where's the whining and groaning about the real issues of dealing with PMS AND a bad hair day AND ragged cuticles? This one simply isn't bad enough. I give it a 4.
Annie: Ma, this doesn't leave me cold, it leaves me feeling dry and
irritated...much like a yeast infection would. I'm giving it a 5 because I
just don't see the badness and then I'm taking 2 points away because I'm
tired of men thinking they have it so much worse than women! HA!
Mr. Fab: The best thing about this one is that he's being such a putz that I think I might have a shot at nailing his wife. That makes me happy. Ma's is right about the couch thing. Does that ever really happen? I give it a 6. I'm not a man-hater like Ma.
Beki:
Moaning husbands, what a drag
No wonder she refuses your right to shag
Be thankful you didn't wed another
Or worse still marry her mother
Off with your whining and get back to your work
Who are you calling a Limey jerk?
Men are led by their dicks
I'm giving this one a score of 6
Total for badness: 19 points
_________________________________
Contestant 16:
Off with your whining and get back to your work
Who are you calling a Limey jerk?
Men are led by their dicks
I'm giving this one a score of 6
Total for badness: 19 points
_________________________________
Contestant 16:
One Ear
at
Petroleum jelly of mine,
Golly gee you are mighty fine.
I wish I weren’t addicted
To your big, oily honey pot.
I would kill just to have
Your lubricating salve
On my hands that are constricted
On my regions blood-filled and hot.
Ma T: I'm kinda hung up on that "blood-filled and hot" thing. Is this about Bees or a subdural hematoma? I'm thinking the bees and the blood-filled, hot regions would simply get mucked up with the addition of Petroleum jelly. Maybe I'm too old for this one. In any event, I give it a 5.
Annie: One thing about this poem especially bothers me; the use of the
words 'honey pot'. It immediately makes me think of the truck that drains
the port-a-potties of all its "goodies". Because the author didn't know
that Astroglide works SO much better than Petroleum Jelly and forced the
image of poo being sucked out of those johns to be imprinted on my brain,
I'm giving you a 4.
Mr. Fab: Oh baby, now we are talking my language; an ode to a lubricant. This hits me right where I live. I give it a solid 8. Hey, speaking of a solid 8, look what just popped up here...
Beki:
You repugnant jezebel
You cheap flirt
Passing this off as poetry
When it's just dirt
Your filthy mind
Needs occupying
But I'll give you this
At least your trying
Painting a vile image
I'm prone to hate
So have some points
Here have 8
Total for badness: 25 points
______________________________
Golly gee you are mighty fine.
I wish I weren’t addicted
To your big, oily honey pot.
I would kill just to have
Your lubricating salve
On my hands that are constricted
On my regions blood-filled and hot.
Ma T: I'm kinda hung up on that "blood-filled and hot" thing. Is this about Bees or a subdural hematoma? I'm thinking the bees and the blood-filled, hot regions would simply get mucked up with the addition of Petroleum jelly. Maybe I'm too old for this one. In any event, I give it a 5.
Annie: One thing about this poem especially bothers me; the use of the
words 'honey pot'. It immediately makes me think of the truck that drains
the port-a-potties of all its "goodies". Because the author didn't know
that Astroglide works SO much better than Petroleum Jelly and forced the
image of poo being sucked out of those johns to be imprinted on my brain,
I'm giving you a 4.
Mr. Fab: Oh baby, now we are talking my language; an ode to a lubricant. This hits me right where I live. I give it a solid 8. Hey, speaking of a solid 8, look what just popped up here...
Beki:
You repugnant jezebel
You cheap flirt
Passing this off as poetry
When it's just dirt
Your filthy mind
Needs occupying
But I'll give you this
At least your trying
Painting a vile image
I'm prone to hate
So have some points
Here have 8
Total for badness: 25 points
______________________________
That's it for Week 3 of American Midol, When I'm Not Happy, Nobody's Happy! Really Bad poetry contest! The comments section will be open for voting until midnight next Sunday----vote for your favorite poem!
This is your hostess Attila the Mom reminding you to help control the pet population. Have your pets spayed or neutered. And pick up those socks! And sit up straight! And...
If you're fans of the original Idol, please visit the folks at American Midol the blog---a source for news, gossip and snarky good fun. They were gracious enough to allow me to use the title for my contest name instead of ripping my arm off and beating me over the head with it for not doing a blog search first. Many thanks to them!
If you're fans of the original Idol, please visit the folks at American Midol the blog---a source for news, gossip and snarky good fun. They were gracious enough to allow me to use the title for my contest name instead of ripping my arm off and beating me over the head with it for not doing a blog search first. Many thanks to them!
8 comments:
I'll give Limey (Leon) a symptahy vote...and for the record, he's never had to sleep on the couch. Couch sleeping just makes it harder to have makeup sex.
It was supposed to be a bad poem after all!! ... and for the record, my wife is the best, and I simply do not deserve her!
You like me! You really like me! I'd like to thank the academy, fiber and Charmin.
Limey and Jen---I thought it was adorable!
But I'm not allowed to vote. LOL
I think the poems are getting grosser as late entering contestants are finding they have to try harder. Like the Olympics there is grade inflation for the people who skate last.
The ode to poop is beyond stinky.
I wrote a non-poetic gross-out today. Attila you are inspiring me to go where no woman has gone before. Scary.
Would it have been worse if I had mentioned Iraq by name?
I rather liked Leon's entry. It brought back fond memories of my honeymoon.
I think I've been voting incorrectly since I've been casting my vote for the poem I like best.
If the vote is to go to the worst poem (the most gross) then Ode to Poop gets mine.
Thank you soooo much for giving me the opportunity to "judge" such very excellent train-wreck poetry. I had a great time reading and writing about the creativity. FINALLY some poetry I can both understand AND relate to.
I think I would like to begin a second career as a full time judge of whatever contest needs judging. Anyone know where to send my resume? Can I use you as a reference?
Great job Mom!
Post a Comment