Rhyme Nor Reason
I have no idea what this is supposed to be. I wish I did, because I love fun-tastic novelty underpants as much as the next guy, provided the next guy doesn’t particularly like fun-tastic novelty underpants.
Maybe I just need to see the cute little poem that comes with it, and then I’ll understand. I tried writing my own, but I couldn’t think of anything that rhymed with WHY IS THERE A CORN COB TIED TO YOUR UNDERPANTS.
Hey, I know! Why don’t you figure it out? Leave your best cute little poem in the comments, and the poem I like the best will win this box of shit.
I’ll be over here, counting my Vicodin.
June 14, 2011 at 1:33 pm
The essence in giving a ‘ga’g gift, is that the gag has to make sense and be funny.
I don’t understand this at all.
June 14, 2011 at 1:59 pm
I suppose the sense of humor is important because otherwise you’d just be confused and frightened
June 14, 2011 at 2:02 pm
Sense of humor or not, I’m still confused and frightened.
June 14, 2011 at 3:53 pm
Gee why? I’m sure any guy would love a bandaid included with a pair of beat up tighty-whiteys. Guys love bandaids on their junk.
June 14, 2011 at 2:46 pm
What exactly do you mean by “gag”?
…I’m going with c) THIS BALL GAG HAS TO MAKE SENSE AND BE FUNNY.
June 15, 2011 at 9:13 am
Exactly, this is just all kinds of “what the fuck”.
June 14, 2011 at 1:38 pm
Underwear, corn cob, band-aid and zipper,
I’d rather spend $14.99 on a hit of meth and a stripper.
I suck at writing poems.
June 14, 2011 at 1:41 pm
I have a feeling strippers and whores might be a running theme in these poems…
June 14, 2011 at 3:04 pm
This has the potential for a fantastic limerick…
June 14, 2011 at 3:17 pm
Where are you getting your meth if you’re getting change from $14.99 to spend on a stripper?
July 1, 2011 at 12:56 pm
Sorry for the delay, I’ve been in hospital. I thought it read $149.99. My bad.
June 14, 2011 at 3:35 pm
A Haiku For My Crazy Fun Underwear
Pockets on your gonch!
Don’t get dink caught in zipper!
Ooops! Bandaids are included!
June 14, 2011 at 1:38 pm
It’s so terrific! Men love gifts like this. Just in time for Father’s Day. Bandaid, whistles, corncobs, corks…. It’s all so funny! I can see the delighted look on my husbands face when he opens this.
June 14, 2011 at 1:39 pm
I don’t get the point
Of these frankly crap pants
So Vicsews, haiku!
June 14, 2011 at 1:59 pm
Missed a syllable! (stupid JDDC) it should be
I don’t get the point
Of these frankly crapy pants
So Vicsews, haiku!
June 14, 2011 at 1:40 pm
Oh look at these underpants
They’re really quite neat
I got them on Etsy
Aren’t they fucking sweet?
They’ve got zippers and bandaids
And wrinkles galore
This money would’ve been better spent
If I’d hired a whore
I know you’ll treasure them
From back to front
I’m sure it better than what your stupid mother got you
I hate that wrinkled old…bat.
The End.
June 14, 2011 at 2:09 pm
For some reason I read this to the tune of Part of That World from The Little Mermaid.
Thanks?
June 14, 2011 at 2:16 pm
I think its the “really quite neat” part. But yes, now that you mention it. Damn I should have done that instead.
Something like
Look at these underpants
They’re really quite neat
Wouldn’t you think
My insanity’s complete?
And I’m out of ideas now.
June 14, 2011 at 2:30 pm
I’ve got zippers and pockets aplenty,
I’ve got band-aids and whistles galore.
You want corn-on-the-cobs?
I’ve got twenty!
June 14, 2011 at 2:32 pm
Look at these knickers
They’re really quite neat
Wouldn’t you say
My fuckery’s complete?
Wouldn’t you say I’m the crafter
Who will make just anything?
I’ve got scrap fabric and corncobs a-plenty
I’ve got whistles and bandaids galore
You want tissues and corks? I got plenty!
And I’ll glue all of them to these pants.
I want to stick shit to other shit
I want to get, get my hot glue gun out
make a pointless piece of shit, and sell it on here!
$14.99! I’m having a laugh! This is crap with ribbons sewn onto it…
A wonderful world. I can sell this to fools- Only on etsyyyyyyyyyy!
June 14, 2011 at 3:13 pm
A perfect excuse for hipster Ariel
June 14, 2011 at 3:17 pm
I’m ready to blow what this whistle blows,
what are you doing with that corn cob
and why does it whats the word…
burn?
When will I learn
I shouldnt shove, shove things way up my bum
out of my mind
wish i could find
part of that cork
June 14, 2011 at 3:32 pm
Holy crow. I just sang it out loud. My brain did it without my permission. Holy freaking crow.
June 15, 2011 at 8:38 am
Never again am I going to eat while reading the comments here. I just choked on my breakfast laughing so hard. I love you guys!
June 16, 2011 at 2:58 am
Singing it to “part of that world” just takes this poem to whole new levels of amazing!
June 14, 2011 at 1:41 pm
The only thing missing is the poop streaks.
June 14, 2011 at 1:41 pm
June 14, 2011 at 6:36 pm
Where did it come from?
June 16, 2011 at 8:17 am
I would not mess with that thing…
June 14, 2011 at 1:42 pm
The band-aid’s decidedly useful
The whistle could clearly be fun
The tissue’s for when the fun’s over
The cork…I’m not touching that one
The zipper, I like for its access
(The size puts me into a trance)
But why in the fuck’s there a corn cob
Tied to these Hanes underpants?
June 14, 2011 at 1:45 pm
If you don’t win the Box of Crap, there is no justice in this world.
June 14, 2011 at 1:46 pm
Or….
What do you do to the lady
Selling corn cobs upon underpants?
(something something something)
I’ll Guilder if you’ll Rosencrantz!
June 14, 2011 at 1:47 pm
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June 14, 2011 at 1:48 pm
Yeah. Being able to write a full poem instead of just thinking of a funny rhyme tends to do that.
June 14, 2011 at 2:12 pm
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June 15, 2011 at 1:36 am
Namaste: It doesn’t mean what you think it means.
June 14, 2011 at 1:54 pm
i was going to enter, but this was just too good!
June 14, 2011 at 2:07 pm
Now I’ve got no chance. Farewell, box of crap. I give you to your rightful winner.
June 14, 2011 at 2:34 pm
Winner!!
June 14, 2011 at 4:26 pm
I’m reading this to a waltz beat like it was from “A Little Night Music.”
June 14, 2011 at 8:43 pm
A truly awesome poem.. I literally laughed out loud… And since I am work I got some pretty strange looks so I ahd to share the goodness of Regretsy with the rest of the office!
June 14, 2011 at 1:42 pm
And as for poetry, how about this?
A gag gift, for men
This gift is supposed to witty and funny
It’s even supposed to make sense
It’s all pretty and pink and girly and sunny
He’ll wince at it once, chuck it over the fence.
This gift is a load of tat tied on some briefs
I’d divorce my husband for wearing
$14.99 for some pink-zippered grief
And the memory of all your friends staring.
June 14, 2011 at 1:51 pm
Or, Non-Rhyming:
A zipper, neon pink
Marks the line of his love rod
I can barely breathe.
Mens town and country seat covers
with a cork, and a corn-cob
I can’t tell you where my mind is going
But it’s not good.
And the worst, Oh, the worst
Someone is charging money
for this ugly, twee, shit.
June 14, 2011 at 1:43 pm
Late to the party, because school sucks.
June 14, 2011 at 1:49 pm
Also:
There was once a sexy man
who wore the cutest underpants
with little pockets, polka dots
and easy access to his cock
June 14, 2011 at 2:23 pm
Also:
June 14, 2011 at 4:20 pm
That’s poetry, it really is.
June 14, 2011 at 4:52 pm
Now that pocket with the pen looks like a monocle.
June 14, 2011 at 5:45 pm
Monocle pocket automatically makes it “Steampunk” by etsy standards.
June 14, 2011 at 1:52 pm
I really like the way you blended the hairstyles together, actually. What a pretty blond Jesus that is.
June 14, 2011 at 1:44 pm
Well at least it is hanes underwear and not some cheap brand…
June 14, 2011 at 1:44 pm
I can only think of something for the cork:
There once was a man from New York,
Whose problem made everyone hork.
Whenever he’d sit
He’d let loose some shit
So he glued to his undies a cork.
June 14, 2011 at 1:47 pm
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June 14, 2011 at 1:50 pm
It’s called a Limerick.
June 14, 2011 at 1:55 pm
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June 14, 2011 at 2:05 pm
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June 14, 2011 at 2:06 pm
Oh my god I give up I clearly am just a moron today (replay = reply)
I am just going to run away from the computer, that’s the best option for everyone.
June 14, 2011 at 2:30 pm
I LOVE limericks! Great one!!!
June 14, 2011 at 2:50 pm
I’m reminded of the line from “Tommy” by The Who – “and you know where to put the cork.”
June 14, 2011 at 1:46 pm
Random household things
glued to perfectly good briefs
You are a retard
June 14, 2011 at 4:41 pm
ooooh haiku.
June 14, 2011 at 1:46 pm
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June 14, 2011 at 2:06 pm
…I regret that I have but one corncob for you.
December 16, 2011 at 10:46 am
I love this! Literally lol’d.
June 14, 2011 at 1:48 pm
Roses are red,
Violets are blue,
What the fuck is wrong with you?
June 14, 2011 at 1:56 pm
Nothing wrong with short and simple. It certainly say it all.
June 14, 2011 at 2:12 pm
Some are a lot more cleverly done but this one made me laugh hardest so far. ; )
June 14, 2011 at 1:48 pm
If you are going to make cargo underwear it shouldn’t be cute and it should come with more useful items. I want a utility belt type garment, not something that inspires crotch giggles.
June 14, 2011 at 3:03 pm
Batman Underoos for grown-ups? This would fulfill a lifelong dream of mine…
June 14, 2011 at 6:42 pm
kinky little devil!
June 14, 2011 at 1:48 pm
A haiku:
Whimsicle undies
Pretty pink pockets and bows
Why the fuck a cork?
June 14, 2011 at 1:48 pm
I like how the PEN IS on the front.
That’s all I got.
June 14, 2011 at 1:48 pm
The Cutest Little Poem
These crazy-huge ‘roos are the bestest, it’s true!
You’ll be so excited to wear’em.
Cause if your neighbor’s spawn won’t get off the lawn
You can take off your trousers and scare’em!
June 14, 2011 at 1:49 pm
Where do hipster corks
rest after use? Inside the
whimsicle butthole.
June 14, 2011 at 1:50 pm
I do like the idea of this for the passenger seat, the corncob up the ass etc will keep their mind off my driving. But what man drives a Town and Country minivan! She should try making these seat covers for pickup trucks.
June 14, 2011 at 1:50 pm
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June 14, 2011 at 1:50 pm
You blow the whistle when you get your franks n’ beans stuck in the zipper? Someone comes and hits you in the head with a corn cob, and then you can put a band aid on your junk? That’s the only explanation I can come up with.
The rest of the items in their shop (while not my style) look like they’re very well done.
June 14, 2011 at 1:51 pm
There once was a boy named Bob
He loved to eat corn on the cob
In his underpants
He sits and he rants
Why can’t I eat corn off my knob?!
So someone from etsy thought, “Oh!
How could I help Bob, I know!
I’ll make something silly
He’ll wear on his willy
And he will no longer feel woe!”
June 20, 2011 at 7:06 am
Yours rhymed the most beautifully
you’re all freaking geniuses xDD
June 14, 2011 at 1:51 pm
I dunno if I can make it rhyme, but it all makes perfect sense to me.
The zipper is for super quick access.
The bandaid is for when you’re a little too quick.
Your guy is apparently into cornholing.
And the cork is for fixing the inherent problem. Since he likes dick. THERE I MADE IT RHYME.
June 14, 2011 at 1:52 pm
why is there a whistle? I’m pretty sure that’s not what he wants her to blow when she’s down there…
June 14, 2011 at 2:05 pm
Still, his wife could have some fun with it if he ever rejoinders a reprimand with “Oh yeah? Blow me!”
June 14, 2011 at 2:13 pm
He wants her to blow a whistle for back-up…’cause it’s too big for just one woman? Or when he’s ready to come, he’s so practiced that she holds the whistle up to his penis and he causes it to whistle with…no, forget that.
I’m still puzzled about the cork, though. Maybe I’m not really puzzled; I just don’t want to think about it.
June 14, 2011 at 3:40 pm
It’s a rape whistle *derp* for when someone comes at him with the corncob.
June 14, 2011 at 1:52 pm
I don’t have time to compose a poem so hows about a haiku…
Bubbles from my ass
Tighty Whitey Fuckery
Oh fruit of the loom
June 14, 2011 at 1:53 pm
There once was a man from Nantucket.
Had a dick but couldn’t reach it to suck it.
Thought his goal would be quicker
if his drawers had a zipper
I know this isn’t a poem, but fuck it.
June 14, 2011 at 2:02 pm
*revised*
There once was a man from Nantucket.
Had a dick but he couldn’t quite suck it.
Thought his goal would be quicker
if his drawers had a zipper
I know this isn’t a poem, but oh well, just fuck it.
June 14, 2011 at 2:19 pm
Hate do be a dick but the last one ended closer to the right number of stresses. Somewhere in between would be perfect, maybe “I know this ain’t a poem, but oh fuck it”
Also, limericks are poems… sorry I hate myself now. *shame*
June 14, 2011 at 2:27 pm
You’re not a dick. I’m not happy with this, I typed the first one in about 30 seonds and knew it was wrong right away. I typed the second one and knew IT was wrong, too. So I took a ‘just fuck it’ stance.
P.S. I know limericks are poems, I was going on the idea that most people think that the only poetry is moon/June and iambic pentameter. (Shit, now *I* hate my own self!)
June 14, 2011 at 3:36 pm
Bajingo, I think most people think anything that rhymes is poetry. And I’m so easy to please, most regretsy user names feel like poetry to me
June 14, 2011 at 1:54 pm
Father’s Day is here at last,
was hoping for better gifts than past.
But manties with a whistle and corn cob,
Is not what I meant when I said blow job.
June 14, 2011 at 2:57 pm
Showed this to a friend, she didn’t know what manties were lol. So in case there is any doubt, manties = man panties.
June 14, 2011 at 4:46 pm
To this I say, “Duh”.
June 15, 2011 at 1:30 pm
When you’re alone and life is making you lonely
You can always wear…MANTIES.
When you’ve got no friends, your life seems to depend on your tighty-white…MANTIES.
Just listen to the whistle blow,
I know you’re gonna love it.
And if you don’t like my corn cob,
I’ll show you where to shove it.
How can you lose?
Your pants will fit much better when
You can forget all your troubles, forget your depair
and wear MAAAAN-ties, things’ll be great
in your MAAAAN-ties, everyone’s staring at yoooou.
June 14, 2011 at 1:55 pm
Your skin glows like the Rape whistle, blossoms tighty as the whitey in the purest hope of spring.
My heart follows your rape whistle voice and leaps like a pink zipper at the whisper of your name.
The evening floats in on a great Etsy wing.
I am comforted by your man pants that I carry into the twilight of band-aid beams and hold next to my penis.
I am filled with hope that I may dry your tears of sperm.
As my scrotum falls from my boxers, it reminds me of your pubic hair.
In the quiet, I listen for the last fart of the day.
My heated ass leaps to my panties. I wait in the moonlight for your secret man panties so that we may shit as one, ass to ass, in search of the magnificent pink mystical zipper of love.
June 14, 2011 at 1:59 pm
Oh you the Byron of underpants poetry,you. I bet that you could get all the Etsy fucktards to love you with those glittery verses.
June 14, 2011 at 2:01 pm
But is it whimsicle enough?
June 14, 2011 at 3:40 pm
It’s so whimsicle that rape whistles are my new octopus.
June 14, 2011 at 2:57 pm
That is fucking hilarious!
June 14, 2011 at 1:56 pm
Here is my answer, not to be crass
He gets off with the corn cob shoved up his ass.
There’s nothing wrong with packing fudge,
If that’s what lifts your luggage, who am I to judge?
But I am not convinced to keep these on hand
There’s just one thing I can’t understand.
It might be a bad idea, even cruel
to put that huge zipper right next to his jewel….s
June 14, 2011 at 1:56 pm
F is for Fun_tastic Father’s day gift
A is for all my love
T is for tethered whistle
H is for He is a cut above
E is for every ass cheek these underpants shall bind
R is for remember to thank me later when you realize this is a find
…A Town and Country Seat Cover. The perfect gift for the father of a maladjusted ladychild.
June 14, 2011 at 4:10 pm
I read the ‘t’ portion as ‘withered testicle’ on the first time through.
June 14, 2011 at 4:33 pm
I think that’s what happens if you use the zipper.
June 14, 2011 at 1:56 pm
Oh, what could it mean
the cover of this men’s “seat”?
How can one decipher
bandaid, whistle and zipper?
And my confusion is multiplied
by the things I cannot find
A cork, a corncob, a tissue too
perhaps they’re vintage- “slightly used”
I do not know ’cause I can’t see
I think it’s Whimsicle Fuckery.
June 14, 2011 at 1:57 pm
But isn’t a gag gift supposed to make one gag?
(Take that anyway you want. You’d be right.)
June 14, 2011 at 1:57 pm
Into every pair of drawers,
a bit of stuff must fall
And it would take a rocket surgeon
to explain it all
A zipper keeps you chipper
when you get snagged with the teeth
But it’s no issue,
there’s a tissue hiding underneath
A whistle’s always neat to help you
pass the time at work,
But cork your blower afterwards,
or you’ll look like a jerk
The fit is so exquisite
you’ll make everybody horny
So when you do your victory strut,
just dangle out your corny
Some may regard you with disdain,
embarrassment, disgust,
But everybody knows a sense of humor is a must
So wear ‘em proud and high and tight,
and never be ashamed
At $14.99 these gag pants prices are ins-Hanes.
June 14, 2011 at 1:57 pm
Slob on my corn cob
Ugly zipper on my crotch
I need therapy
June 14, 2011 at 1:58 pm
I think haiku is the only way to go on this one:
Tighty whitey, BUT
What’s missing? My best corncob!
Tie it to my junk.
June 14, 2011 at 2:00 pm
Accessorized Hanes Brief,
Significantly Gains Grief.
June 14, 2011 at 2:00 pm
With high hopes I bought this
to keep us both horny
but now I can see
it’s pointless and corny*.
*in the most literal sense of the word.
June 14, 2011 at 2:01 pm
Tighty Whities,
Fresh and Pristine,
Corncob and bandaids
You know what I mean?
Really I don’t,
Because you are insane,
14.99 for these?
Better come with a chain…
To beat your stupid ass silly.
June 14, 2011 at 2:02 pm
Look at this! a zipper for his knob
And for his dirty ass, a dried corncob
His whistle beckons, he’s in a caper
For he hath sent the signal; He’s out of toilet paper!
The cork of course is for the noxious gas
That the mightiest of men must surely pass
The bandage I admit, has me at a loss
Perhaps for the hemorrhoids those tightie-whiteys floss?
Just look at the whimsicle pink that frames his junk
And the tag within, labeled “SteamPunk”
June 14, 2011 at 2:04 pm
Love this one
June 14, 2011 at 2:31 pm
It t’was upon a Summer’s Eve
And the feast of fathers was nigh
I spotted a pair of festooned knickers
A sure sore to the eye
The wind broke through the whistle
And the howling pierced by heart
As the cork meant to keep him popped
And he unleashed a resounding fart
Down, down the zipper tugged
Much like my own sinking soul
As he removed for the corn cob
To alleviate his coarse and aching hole
Out, out soft tissue
As he perused the latest issue of “ Backdoor Sluts”
A silent cursed formed on his breath
But he had readied a bandage for his paper cut
The brilliant white beribboned with pink
Paled and shamed the lovely moon
But twas I who walked away
Because they were not Fruit of the Loom
June 14, 2011 at 8:42 pm
*applause* Truly grand! I cried with laughter! *sniff*
June 15, 2011 at 12:09 am
My favourite! The feast of the fathers is nigh indeed…
)
methinks(hi BroncJune 14, 2011 at 2:02 pm
I hardly remember your name
I briefly put up with your game
My junk drawer I needed to clear
My blood stream was still full of beer
I made you this sweet little gift
And just so I don’t cause a rift
It clearly was meant as a joke
So don’t call me with a “Hey what the hell is this thing you sent me in the mail you dumb bitch it was only a one night stand and you really weren’t that good anyway and you threw up in my bathroom and didn’t even clean it up so why would you even bother to remember my name or my adress and send me some stinking craptastic piece of shit like this”
okey dokey
June 14, 2011 at 2:03 pm
I just really like “stream of concious” writing
June 14, 2011 at 2:29 pm
I do, too.
June 14, 2011 at 2:02 pm
OOOH! OHH! Or how about:
This set or drawers
is off just a bit
the corn is sewn on
‘stead of mixed in your s###.
June 14, 2011 at 2:07 pm
I give up. Nobody can top this.
June 14, 2011 at 3:33 pm
Dammit! “…OF!…”
Oh! and thanks, Rev = )
June 14, 2011 at 2:03 pm
A haiku to explain these pants
I need some quick cash
random shit: meet underpants
then sell on Etsy.
June 14, 2011 at 2:03 pm
Gag Gift for a Man
Giving a man some thing that’s pink
A funny little cover, or so you think
Great to use upon your tush
Great to feel the pocketed cush
If the zipper scares you off
Flip them over & there’s the cob
The cob is for something scary
For the man who is all hairy
Or someone who wants a divorce
Retribution for gifting these of course
A wondrous sight these are to see
Made by VicSews for you and me
A hilarious gift for the man in your life
Not the girl you call your wife.
(The first letter of each lines spells out “Gag Gift for a Man”)
June 14, 2011 at 2:03 pm
You douchebags don’t know nuthin.
Corncobs are hillbilly toilet paper.
Free verse, bitchez.
Now where’s my box of shit?
June 14, 2011 at 2:03 pm
To the tune of “If you’re happy and you know it”:
If you’re horny and you know it, unzip your pants
If you’re corny and you know it, check your pants
If you’re porny and you know it and you really want to show it
If you’re porny and you know it, use cork implants!
Tad-da!
June 14, 2011 at 2:03 pm
A Corncob hangin from you knickers,
& a zipper on your wee-wee,
will keep you from getting hungry,
when you feel the urge to pee-pee.
And the bandaids in the pocket,
those are for your pooin’,
when you drop a deuce so huge,
you need to bandage up your new one.
<3
June 14, 2011 at 2:04 pm
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June 14, 2011 at 2:04 pm
Whistle at me, I’ll come near
If you promise to unzip that fly
Bandage up my broken heart
Lift my spirits to the sky
Give me reason to smile again
Cork up my ever-flowing tears
Dry them off my face with tissue
Kiss away all of my fears
I could travel around the world
But in your pants I’d rather be -
Is that a corn cob in your butt,
or are you just happy to see me?
June 14, 2011 at 2:06 pm
I can’t write a poem… I just can’t get past assuming the corn cob and cork are organic butt plugs.
June 14, 2011 at 2:06 pm
Practical Uses: A Haiku.
Drunk in the bathroom,
He’s in front mouth wide open,
Zip goes the zipper.
June 14, 2011 at 2:07 pm
My contribution:
If within your goatse, this little cork fits
then you’ll have need for the rape whistle kit.
For wearing this piece of whimsicle fuckery
made in drug induced haze of muckery.
You will be sent to jail for a public display
with your underwear saying all that they say.
You will be locked up for indecent behavior.
Where the jammed pink zipper might be your savior.
You will make many friends with that corn cob
As long as you don’t mind spending time with the hillbilly mob.
Should you’re wife buy you this fun-tastic seat cover
Is proof that your sex life has now long been over.
June 14, 2011 at 2:07 pm
The whistle’s tied there on a string for when I need to call,
the bandaid’s on the other side for when I take a fall.
The cork is there for when I want to keep shit off my draws,
the corncob’s there for when I’m thinking about y’all.
The zipper in the middle’s there for whipping out my balls
and thinking about farmer john, in his overalls.
The tissue’s there to clean up all the mess upon the walls.
That’s the end of this here poem which should be writ in bathroom stalls.
June 14, 2011 at 2:08 pm
So much depends
upon
a blue cheap
whistle
tied with pink
ribbon
upon the white
undies.
June 14, 2011 at 3:40 pm
I love you! That made me pee a little.
June 14, 2011 at 4:50 pm
…thank you?
June 14, 2011 at 2:08 pm
Mission accomplished – I am gagging. I think that most of us here have a pretty good sense of humor but I’m willing to bet there are few if any sides hurting from laughter; not even a twinge. Perhaps it is the use of the word “fun-tastic” combined with a “cute little poem.” I have had my coffee so will not start frothing at the mouth, but I think most here know my opinion on cute. What a fucktard.
June 14, 2011 at 2:09 pm
Gag gift:
Meet Prop comic:
June 14, 2011 at 2:17 pm
UNNECESSARY. There is never any call for this. I hope you’re happy with yourself.
June 14, 2011 at 2:24 pm
I’m thrilled with me.
June 14, 2011 at 2:47 pm
Yeah, I guess I understand. Still, though. Shame on you, etc.
June 14, 2011 at 6:41 pm
Oh I get it- now it’s literally a gag, and shutting up creepoid there is a gift, so it’s REALLY a “gag gift”… (When people fail to laugh at my jokes, I usually dive into a long detailed explaination)
June 14, 2011 at 10:07 pm
I just figure if the Rev loves Carrot Top and enjoys a guy who isn’t all that funny it’s his/her right to tell me that I should be ashamed of myself for using “prop comedy” to express how I feel about prop comics and gag gifts.
Apparently Carrot Top should be treated with the utmost respect…
June 15, 2011 at 4:45 am
Actually, I suspect quite the opposite. That picture garnered almost the same response from me, because it is probably the most horrifying image on the internet. creepy clowns are creepy. No one should be subjected to Carrot Top against their will and with out proper warning.
June 14, 2011 at 2:09 pm
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June 14, 2011 at 3:07 pm
I gagged. You didn’t?
June 14, 2011 at 2:09 pm
A new piece of fuckery was featured today
with a combo of weirdness artistically made
a pair of tighty whities to cover one’s junk
a tissue to take care of leftover spunk
a zipper to provide easy dong access
a band aid for when one’s dick inevitably gets caught in that mess
a cork and a corn cob; butt plugs for fools
and a whistle you’re required to blow when you’re 300 ft. from schools.
Country Seat Covers are indeed full of win
they’ll at least get some laughs while the Vicodin kicks in.
June 14, 2011 at 2:10 pm
Zipper for the junk,
Cork and corn cob in the trunk
Do I hear banjos?
June 14, 2011 at 2:10 pm
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June 14, 2011 at 2:45 pm
feel free to down vote into oblivion.
It double posted. ^^b
June 14, 2011 at 2:10 pm
Zippers on crotches
and band aids quite yellow
pretty pink patches
on undies for a fellow,
a cork and and corn cob tied on with string
these are a few of the most heinous things….
When I’m snarky
When I’m butt hurt
When I’m feeling sad
I go to see Regretsy’s most Heinous Things
Then I actually feel quite mad.
June 14, 2011 at 8:48 pm
I’ll never see The Sound Of Music the same way again. I’ll probably enjoy it more, in fact.
June 14, 2011 at 2:11 pm
A Haiku.
Cheap Hanes underpants/
Garbage glued on? Fourteen bucks/
The skid marks are free/
June 14, 2011 at 2:12 pm
The poem won’t help
Any more than this one will
What the fuckery?
June 14, 2011 at 2:12 pm
father’s day present? hhmmm….
oh my dad loves to wrestle and play,
in his pink pocketed ‘seat covers’,
he’ll roll around with his friends all day.
if he should tumble and scrape his knee,
he always has a bandage handy,
and if it gets too rough and someone should bristle,
he can blow his handy whistle.
if a friend should cry because they have an issue,
you can bet he has a tissue,
and if that friend remains forlorn,
for no explainable reason, he has a plastic wrapped cob of corn.
yes my dad loves to frolic with his friends in his zipper front undies all day…
i do believe my day is gay.
June 14, 2011 at 3:06 pm
oh fuck! i can’t seem to ever comment on here without some kind of typo, even when i preview. since i screwed up the punchline here’s take two…
father’s day present?
oh my dad loves to wrestle and play,
in his pink pocketed ‘seat covers’,
he’ll roll around with his friends all day.
if he should tumble and scrape his knee,
he always has a bandage handy,
and if it gets too rough and someone should bristle,
he can blow his handy whistle.
if a friend should cry because they have an issue,
you can bet he has a tissue,
and if that friend remains forlorn,
for no explainable reason, he has a plastic wrapped cob of corn.
yes my dad loves to frolic with his friends in his zipper front undies all day…
i do believe my dad is gay.
June 14, 2011 at 2:15 pm
I think we need a ” who wore it better?” on this…
June 14, 2011 at 2:15 pm
There once was a seller who thunk
Of how to make undies steampunk.
Add corncobs and Kleenex,
A cork butt plug comes next,
Then a pink zipper for over the junk.
It’s not advertised as steampunk, but isn’t everything on Etsy “steampunk,” after all?
June 14, 2011 at 2:16 pm
I *am* going to write a poem but first.
I’m not so sure the very worst poetry in the universe can possibly belong to Miss Paula Nancy Millstone Jennings of Sussex any longer.
June 14, 2011 at 2:18 pm
perhaps we can get a vogon to read these for us
June 14, 2011 at 2:20 pm
No! Under no circumstances should you ever let a Vogon read poetry at you. D:
June 14, 2011 at 2:24 pm
Clearly you are a hoopy frood what knows where his towel is.
June 14, 2011 at 2:16 pm
There was a dude in zipped drawers who I dared
To shove a cork or corn cob way up there
The whistle, he blew
As he wept in tissue
No bandaid helps the butt-hurt he bared.
June 14, 2011 at 2:16 pm
What is a whistle,
corn cob, tissue, zipper
bandaid and, oh god, a cork
doing on your underwear?
Corn cob butt plug?
Zipper hair tug?
Bandaid for the raw spot?
Cork there just for fun?
Tissue for the wet spot?
Rape whistle so I can run?
Funtastic underwear
makes me kind of sick,
and guarantees, for sure,
I won’t go near your dick.
You should’ve spent you money,
on something more productive,
all that crap on your Hanes,
is really obstructive.
Oh fuck it.
I’ll just go back to Regretsy,
for life I rep Club Fuckery.
June 14, 2011 at 2:16 pm
There once was a man from Cole,
Who spent so much time on the bowl.
His wife was so bitter,
Screaming as he visited the shitter,
“For God sakes, put a cork in your hole!”
FUCKING LOVE LIMERICKS.
June 14, 2011 at 2:16 pm
June 14, 2011 at 2:25 pm
Now put a pair on Moses and we’ll compare.
June 14, 2011 at 5:06 pm
Of fuck. Now I seriously need photoshop. That is a kickass image.
June 14, 2011 at 2:17 pm
Men’s home circumcision pants. The blue thing is a styptic pencil; the purpose of the Band-Aids is obvious.
June 14, 2011 at 2:18 pm
These undies, these undies,
all clad in pink,
are not at all odd as you think.
Zippers are great when you have to pee
whistles are great when you are three
the bandaid is because you’re a fuckin clutz
you’re a whiney little bitch, so here’s your tissue
you can take the corn cob and sick it up your ass then the cork to make sure it stays there
I HATE YOU.
Happy Father’s Day
June 14, 2011 at 3:14 pm
Is that you Homey the Clown?
June 14, 2011 at 2:18 pm
I received a pair of Hanes today
I consider them mighty nice.
There’s a nice textured corn cob tied to the ass
In case the cork won’t suffice.
There’s also included a fresh white Kleenex
For when I must blow my… nose.
And access is now a matter of ease
With this zipper as pink as a rose.
And if the corn cob is over-abrasive,
The bandaid on my wound I can slap.
The whistle’s been great for my forays into
Roleplaying as Captain Von Trapp.
June 14, 2011 at 2:19 pm
Anthony’s Weiner was hard as a rock
Which made Andrew Breitbart bristle,
But if it had been tied to his cock
Would Andy have still blown the whistle?
June 14, 2011 at 2:19 pm
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June 14, 2011 at 2:19 pm
With whistles and bandaids, my ‘whities have style
Pink zippers and pockets just scream “pedophile”
The corn cob is there for when I get lonely
‘Cause I can’t get ladies to ride my baloney.
June 14, 2011 at 2:20 pm
Ode to My Undies:
Oh, tighty whitey undies, why must you be so bland?
I think I’ll add a corn cob to play with in my hand.
Bandaids might be helpful, too, if I get the ‘beans above the frank’,
And we’re gonna need some tissues for the run-ins with those skanks.
Because I look so damn fine I need a rape whistle to protect me,
And pink pockets to hold it all will make me feel REAL sexay.
In MJ’s honor I’ll add a zipper, to remind me to “just beat it”,
And a random cork will balace out this fun-tastic piece of shit.
June 14, 2011 at 2:22 pm
Roses are Red,
Violets are Blue,
When I see random shit,
I think of you!
June 14, 2011 at 2:23 pm
God has a sense of humor
And gave you a small knob
Simply undo the zipper and
Insert the corn cob
This will enhance your
Less than manly bulge
And you should worry not
Your secret I will not divulge
In your pretty pink pockets
You will find cute little things
For those unforeseen problems
That hide in the wings
There is a whistle and tissue
When you blow yourself happy
Seal your ass with bandaid and cork
When there’s no toilet for crapping
I hope your multi-tool panties
Bring you plenty of luck
And get you out of those fixes
When you thought you were stuck
June 14, 2011 at 2:23 pm
You can use multipurpose
Like metallic boxes on a shelf.
I will not slob on your cob,
Blow yourself.
You can use multipurpose but
Bandaids won’t fix a black eye.
Fuckery, where art thou?
These hicks can’t open wine.
You can use multipurpose!
A tissue for make good clean.
Next time softcore sales are low,
Steal your stock and save esteem.
June 14, 2011 at 2:24 pm
Every pair of underwear
Needs this shit attached down there
The problem that is such a shock
Is that they wrote “cork” ‘stead of “cock”.
June 14, 2011 at 2:26 pm
There once was a man
With a cork in his hand
And a corncob stuck in his butt
He spent all his money
Trying to be funny
But his underpants just made him look like a nut
June 14, 2011 at 2:26 pm
A whistle with a very short string
Wouldn’t seem to help with anything
Unless the person on their knees
Plays a tune if she sees fleas.
June 14, 2011 at 2:30 pm
“She sees fleas”, now there’s a tongue-twister for you.
June 14, 2011 at 2:27 pm
When deciding on presents for dad,
I bought something that he’d never had,
he slipped with the zip,
and his bollocks went rip,
A vasectomy, boy was he glad!
June 14, 2011 at 2:27 pm
Man Panty Ennui
Whimsey dances about on pink pockets
For your man moods unzip and be free
From the chains of masculinity.
Embrace your prison fantasy.
June 14, 2011 at 2:27 pm
There once was a man from St. Midas
Who liked to wear tighty-whitehs
He had all his supplies
In pockets above his thighs
And in trouble would use them like this:
A zipper reveals his dick and a whistle gets his girl to come quick!
If she’s too slow he’ll take control and a tissue will clean up the mess.
If he goes number two and the roll is bare a corn cob will make a good spare!
If he scrapes his dear pole the band-aid will cover the hole and keep him safe from infection.
If diarrhea does come, the cork will stop up his bum and he’ll release the mess much later!
Clever underwear indeed, meeting his every need, all the men will be clamoring for a pair!
June 14, 2011 at 2:28 pm
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June 14, 2011 at 2:29 pm
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June 14, 2011 at 2:29 pm
The short version:
PANTS PANTS PANTS
That go under
FUN FUN FUN
Let no man put asunder
June 14, 2011 at 2:29 pm
A corn cob is rarely ever seen
In the back or in between
But if you lack enough TP
It might make you say “whoopee”.
(and have need for the band aid)
June 14, 2011 at 2:30 pm
Pink zipper slides down
Corn cob rolling in his hands
Marriage is now over.
Wait, that’s not funny. Let me try again.
June 14, 2011 at 2:31 pm
Well, I think I took too long to compose this, it isn’t terribly original now. But here it is anyway, in all its glorious wrongness.
Tighty-whitey briefs
Are Whimsicle Fuckery
With pink calico
Use caution camping
This useful camper’s outfit
May keep you from harm
Don’t use the corn cob
It will only end in tears
Tissue is better
Whistle can summon
Loving spouse from the campsite
to open tissue
Band-aid’s for when
Your wedding tackle gets caught
In the pink zipper
Use cork and drive to
Nearest Seven-Eleven
That is wild enough
And if you all think
That my haiku are lacking
Namaste, Bitches!
June 14, 2011 at 2:32 pm
I am not trying to spoil the fun I just got REALLY curious and did a little internet searching. “Instructions” for this
“hilarious” gag “gift” can be found here: http://www.partymerchant.com/gag_gift.htm
The sum total of the joke seems to be “Elderly men are incontinent.” The zipper is for easy access when dealing with sudden urges to urinate (caused by enlarged prostate? they don’t specify) the band-aid is for tending zipper inflicted injuries caused by hasty unzipping in an attempt not to soil yourself. The cork is for stoppering yourself in case you begin to shit uncontrollably, the whistle too … as you are supposed to blow it to alert others that you require changing. The corn cob and tissue/TP are for cleaning yourself up in case others are not available to change you.
It is all very humorous.
June 14, 2011 at 2:39 pm
Can’t talk now.
Brain hurt from so much laughing.
Also eyes full of tears, from so much laughing.
June 14, 2011 at 2:40 pm
Yes. Being an adult unable to control your own bowel functions is not a terrifying and distressing circumsance for all involved, but is, in fact, a hilarious reason to make these ugly, twee pants.
How droll.
June 14, 2011 at 5:03 pm
Isn’t this what Depends are for?
Oh, I forgot. They’re not whimsicle enough.
June 14, 2011 at 2:32 pm
my little screen name is having a fit
about where its innards are forced to sit
June 14, 2011 at 2:32 pm
I found this shit in an unused drawer
and couldn’t decide what it was for.
I sewed it all on these under pants
so you idiots would all do the Etsy Dance.
June 14, 2011 at 2:34 pm
No need to wish you
had
tissue
when your gal pal queefs…
Kleenex comes standard
with these steampunk briefs.
Are you a dripper?
Lower the zipper
to dry your Big Dipper.
So she won’t suck your missile,
she just might blow your whistle.
When your Valtrex runs out,
don’t pout.
There is no herpes outbreak so bad
that can’t be concealed by a Curad.
June 14, 2011 at 2:36 pm
I opened up my present and what a lovely prize!
So many extra trimmings some dangling to my thighs.
I wondered with all my wonderings what could they all be for?
But then I saw the corn cob and my amusement was no more.
It was bigger than my Peter. Much, much larger than my gun.
Then I knew the other bits were more than just for fun.
The band-aide for my hurt ego, though frankly its too small.
The tissue for my tears of shame as I curled into a ball.
The cork is for the butthurt to try and hold it in.
The titties hold the corncob, there’s a slit to slide it in.
With the pieces all assembled there is one last thing to do.
A blow to the whistle so the givers come see.
What wonderful friends, Happy Birthday to me.
June 14, 2011 at 3:12 pm
*tightties oops!
June 14, 2011 at 2:37 pm
Did anyone read her bio?
There once was a quilter from Colorado,
Whose crafts God inspired her to go sew,
She sold them on Etsy, got famous on Regretsy,
And now she makes danties for your man ho.
June 14, 2011 at 2:37 pm
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June 14, 2011 at 6:19 pm
Prison rape is like so funny.
June 15, 2011 at 10:48 am
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June 14, 2011 at 2:37 pm
I met some underwear from a gag gift land
Which said: Two wee and pink pockets of print
Stitched on the white briefs. With them, on the band,
Half stitched, a hanging cork does lie, whose pink
And ribboned lip, and bag of cob at hand
Tell that its maker well those seat covers read
Which yet survive, sewn on these zippered briefs,
The hand that stitched them and the heart that fed.
And of the cute poem these words appear:
“My name is Hanes Tighty Whitey, king of kings:
Look on my briefs, ye Mighty, and despair!”
Nothing beside remains. Round the decay
Of this colossal wreck, boundless and bare
The “men’s town and country covers” stretch far away.
June 14, 2011 at 2:38 pm
There once was a man who would rant
How he wants Etsy underpants
His wife went online
For that pair, oh so fine
Now he wears THESE with his skants!
June 14, 2011 at 2:39 pm
Few things will make you less chipper
than your dick being caught in a zipper.
You can whistle a tune
as you bandage the wound
and plot vengeance with a hedge clipper.
(Sorry, not much of a poet.)
June 14, 2011 at 6:56 pm
You should try it more often!
June 14, 2011 at 2:40 pm
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June 14, 2011 at 2:43 pm
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June 14, 2011 at 2:44 pm
Put this on your man’s seat, and his cushion will never have skid marks again when he has spent 36 hours playing WoW
June 14, 2011 at 2:44 pm
I don my pink-trimmed panties,
And then I zip the zipper,
The corncob slides where the sunshine hides
And now I’m feeling chipper!
But ow, I caught my penis-skin
Inside the nasty zip
And it’s getting frayed, but a large bandaid
Will cover up the rip,
But still it goes on bleeding,
I mop it up with tissue,
Must show my cock to a friendly doc,
So he can fix my issue.
The doctor comes a’running,
He heard me blow my whistle,
He said, “What’s wrong,” and I said, “My dong –
I’ve hurt my manly gristle!”
The doctor said, “This may sound strange,
But here is what to do –
Just chew this cork like a piece of pork,
And you’ll be good as new!”
I sewed upon my panties,
The things that helped explain,
Just how my prick got a little bit sick
And then was cured of pain,
I’m selling them on Etsy,
For whimsicle they be,
Please, all you whores, come buy my drawers
And share the fuckery!
June 14, 2011 at 5:05 pm
Brilliant!
June 14, 2011 at 2:45 pm
These panties don’t deserve a fucking rhyme. Go buy some damned Depends.
June 14, 2011 at 2:47 pm
Why is there a corn cob tied to your underpants?
I dub this monstrosity “tear-them-asunder-pants.”
And what of the cork that we can’t even see?
It may have a purpose, but what? Don’t ask me.
I’d rather not know. No, I’d rather not say.
Don’t the zipper and bandages get in the way
Of the town and the seat and the country you cover?
Are you looking to find a creative lover?
“Come slide my whistle, if you know what I mean,
For I’ve got some white fabric with shit in between.
Some of it’s pink, and some of it’s brown,
And all of it covers my country and town.”
June 14, 2011 at 2:47 pm
These undies are just so fun-tastic!
They’ll make your friends laugh themselves spastic!
“Why the corn cob?” you say
with a look of dismay-
I just hope your asshole’s elastic.
June 14, 2011 at 2:48 pm
June 14, 2011 at 2:50 pm
Allen Ginsberg weighs in from the grave:
Moloch! Underpants! Naughtiness! Abomination! Pink zippers and unstainable Hanes! Christians screaming Just Say No! Mayboys sobbing in armies! Old men weeping in the sex shops!
Moloch! Moloch! Pink Nightmare of Moloch! Moloch the Bandaid! Corncob Moloch! Moloch the heavy cork up your ass!
Moloch the incomprehensible! Moloch the whistle blowing, blowing! Moloch the stunned ex-wife! She saw it all! The wild eyes! The crazed quilter! He jumped off the roof! Clutching teletubbies! Down the fire escape! Into the street!
June 14, 2011 at 3:28 pm
This. Is. Incredible. I’m a little ashamed at my effort, now.
June 14, 2011 at 3:47 pm
VERY fine! I salute you, Beat Parodist!
June 14, 2011 at 4:43 pm
So Ginsberg agrees with me that this is a load of Molochs…
June 14, 2011 at 6:53 pm
This made me giggle like a dork! I saw Ginsberg read. I bet he would LOVE this. He said he intended for parts of “Howl” to be funny. (I don’t think he hit the mark quite like you did!)
June 14, 2011 at 9:46 pm
i logged in to tell you that was wonderful.
June 14, 2011 at 9:51 pm
Ha! Outrageous! Thanks!
June 14, 2011 at 2:53 pm
If you’re reading this card, then i’ll save you
the confused and bewildered remarks.
Your Aunt Tilda was drinking cheap sherry,
on a journey she then did embark.
Her head began swimming — she’s tipsy!
Her hand then grabbed up the mouse,
she googled “gag gifts for a bachelor”
ignoring the fact you’ve a spouse.
Well trusty ol’ google then found her,
a list of relavant sites.
They showcased places like “Spencers”
but nothing she saw was ‘just right!’
So she gulped down some more cooking sherry,
and she stumbled and tripped down the hall
where the room full of glue guns was waiting
’cause ‘homemade’ trumps gifts from the mall.
But she found upon further inspection,
that her craft box was woefully sad!
A novelty bag of kid’s whistles,
some Hanes, and something in plaid.
(too long, continued in comments…)
June 14, 2011 at 2:53 pm
Well she pulled on her pink big-girl panties,
and decided the challenge was there.
She would make you something so daring,
so ‘risque’ that you’d just HAVE to wear!
But the Sherry kept flowing — I’ll be honest,
her crafting skills really do suck.
So when you open the box it’s okay
to answer with “What the fuck!?”
But you’ll thank her and laugh at her gag-gift
even though she’s still high as a kite.
She’ll be flattered and make sixteen others
to stick on this damn Hipster site.
June 14, 2011 at 2:56 pm
Dad now you’re old you’ll find this funny.
And a worthwhile gift clearly isn’t worth my money.
So here is a present just tailored to you
and the years of dementia I won’t see you through.
First is a tissue for your tears and nose,
that will flow once you are alone at the home.
Next is a whistle for when you fall,
though I won’t be the smiling face answering your call.
Next is a bandaid in case you get hurt,
not that you’ll have access to worse than a spork.
Then there’s a cork for plugging your shitter
Come on, get the joke?! No need to be bitter!
The corn cob has something to do with lost teeth.
Or maybe I’m just an idiot. What rhymes with teeth?
The zipper is my favorite little last minute stitch–
just to confuse you–your failing mind is my bitch!
Lastly, your underwear is where it all goes,
because you’re too senile to remember your clothes!
Before you’re offended by this ridiculous rap
Whatd’ you expect from someone who paid for this crap?
June 14, 2011 at 2:57 pm
I saw “corn cob” and thought of “Frosty the Snowman.”
Filthy the Pervert,
Was a jolly happy soul,
With a band-aid, whistle, and a cork
And a corn cob in his hole.
Filthy the pervert,
Was a fairy tale they say,
He was made of Hanes,
So we bleached our brains,
And wished he’d go away.
There must gave been some magic in those dingy drawers they found,
Cause they sold for fifteen dollars,
Yes, it’s bullshit by the pound!
June 14, 2011 at 3:06 pm
Thank you for this. I am SURE it will occupy my brain all Christmas season long, with much hilarity to follow.
June 15, 2011 at 6:03 am
This. Is. WONDERFUL. It’s begging for a second verse. Please?
June 14, 2011 at 2:58 pm
Whose pants these are I think I know.
I could buy them for my man to show;
He will not see me shop for them
Since I don’t want to spend much dough.
The seller must think me an ass
To shop without an ounce of class
Beyond the thought of underpants
That make the world all dark, and crass.
She gives my ribs a verbal nudge
To tell me I must love this sludge.
The only thing worse than the pants
Is the thought of her poem’s verbiage.
The pants are awful, rank, and lame,
But I have presents to attain,
And I can’t stop because of shame,
And I should buy them despite the shame.
June 14, 2011 at 3:02 pm
You’re kidding….shit. I think yours is better, too.
June 14, 2011 at 5:33 pm
I think it’s fantastic that three of us have provided three different versions within 10 minutes. We are obviously awesome!
June 14, 2011 at 5:59 pm
Obviously! Great minds think alike. I was just shocked when the page refreshed and I was right beneath another one.
June 14, 2011 at 3:12 pm
Good feces make good neighbors?
June 14, 2011 at 2:59 pm
What the zipper hides I think I know–
I don’t want to see it, though.
Perhaps you should just step away
Before I punch you in the throat.
That little whistle isn’t quaint,
And that is not my least complaint.
What do you need a pocket for?
To hide that order of restraint?
Take your drawers and go on home.
Don’t shop on Etsy anymore.
Or anywhere at all again–
I need to have a drink or four.
(With apologies to Robert Frost)
June 14, 2011 at 3:02 pm
A haiku:
Behold these manties
Pockets full of crap I found
Plus pink tail with cork
June 14, 2011 at 3:03 pm
Why is there a corn cob
tied to your underpants?
Did you get a house job
at Mike’s Neverland Ranch?
If so, no worries
we only judge furries…
That’s all I got.
June 14, 2011 at 3:04 pm
My underwear, white as an angel’s wings
Veratile like batman’s utility belt
Bandaids, tissues, and other things
soft as the nicest felt
I wish they had more useful things
Such as a match or a spork
I guess I’ll just never understand
Why the fuck my undies needed a cork.
June 14, 2011 at 3:05 pm
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June 14, 2011 at 3:07 pm
Stopping by VicSews’ Etsy Shop on a Snowy Evening
Whose briefs these are, I think I know.
She’s crazy, and she likes to sew.
If I bought these underpants,
This is how the scene would go:
My fiancé would think it queer
And ask, while reaching for a beer,
“Why’d you give me tighty-whities
With a cork that dangles from the rear?”
He’d give his head a little shake,
Tug at the zipper, which is fake,
Pull out a corncob and a Kleenex,
And dump me for being a total flake.
No, I will not buy this shit,
Although it’s whimsicle, I must admit.
At least there’s not a vulva on it…
At least there’s not a vulva on it…
June 14, 2011 at 3:15 pm
Something there is that doesn’t love three simultaneous versions of the same poem.
June 14, 2011 at 3:21 pm
Oh, shit, seriously! We must have all been typing at the same time.
June 14, 2011 at 4:20 pm
Weird. Does this mean that the three of us should buy lottery tickets, or hide in the basement?
June 14, 2011 at 3:27 pm
Robert Frost is not just spinning in his grave, he’s whirling like a drill bit!
June 14, 2011 at 5:11 pm
Whose briefs these are, I think I know,
On Etsy she is called “VicSews.”
June 14, 2011 at 3:07 pm
A touch of whimsy, it’s come to pass,
a fun-tastic cover for any man’s ass
From town to country and points between,
the wonder of these briefs just BEGS to be seen!
The pure cotton undies, a fiber so strong
form the base of this gift; a place for a dong.
A whistle adorns the pocket so cute,
to play a little jig for your skin flute.
Another pocket! A band-aid within,
practical, I guess, for accident-prone men.
The zipper, the zipper, strategically placed
Will hopefully elicit a smile on her face!
If not, well, no matter, there’s more in store!
These undies contain surprises galore!
A corncob, a cork, what else would you pick
to glue to your Hanes and dangle ’round your dick?
So this father’s day, if your gift is a gag,
Remember the polite response: “No, really, you SHOULDN’T have!”
June 14, 2011 at 3:11 pm
VicSews, being without friends or lovers
Invented Men’s Town Country Seat Covers
Which really were but low-rise bloomers
Over which fuckery and steampunk hovers
The pants were made, or so its rumored
To entertain the male consumer
But, joke, we all just seem to miss you
With these pants we are not humored.
Zipper, whistle, bandaid, tissue
With this shit I must take issue
Corn cob, cork – funny? not kinda
Its copyright tho, so she may sue you
Although it inflames April’s angina
She knows how to make this thing fin-a
Lacking one thing to make it art
Two simple words, “moustachioed vagina”
June 14, 2011 at 3:11 pm
Grandpa Undies
A giant pink zipper for your peter’s grand entrance
is only appropriate if it’s more than 10 inches
The band aids you’ll need, when grandma is done
cuz she left her teeth in and scraped with the fun.
The whistle is blown, when you can’t take the pain
And the tissue of course, for after you came.
The curious corn is your second defense
to throw at grandma, when her bites get intense.
The cork for your gas, to plug your butt up
so you don’t ruin the moment, when you bust your old nut.
June 14, 2011 at 3:13 pm
Forgive the entry of a long time lurker, first time snarker? I was inspired (or traumatized) and offer this humble attempt:
For Dad, From Me (and my Twisted Sisters)
For father’s day, Pater, I give you a riddle:
adorned with pink zipper for access to piddle;
equipped with a cork for to stop up your bung,
and corn cob to wipe, I from these as well hung.
Now as you have raised me a proper young lass
I’ve included a whistle to blow – I’m not crass
and that’s what you told me that charming phrase meant
when ‘splaining what Aunt Vixen’s texts you mis-sent
with the tissues you keep by your bed had to do -
but just in case, dad, there’s one of them too.
And after you look at this and realize
that it’s from your daughters and gouge out your eyes,
the bandaid’s right handy attached to these britches;
I hope you enjoy them – Namaste, Your Bitches.
June 14, 2011 at 3:15 pm
I see London
I see France
I see some asshole from etsy’s really fucked up
Underpants
June 14, 2011 at 3:15 pm
why is there a corncob tied to my underpants
you asked of me–
because i left the list at home and
forgot to buy T.P.
that’s also why i have the tissue
and i think i may now tell
i have the cork because last night
i ate at Taco Bell
my undies have a zipper too
because i like to dance
it gives me one more good excuse
to wet my underpants
i have a bandaid with me
because sometimes when i rush
the zipper is so small in size
my penis it doth crush
my whistle’s for emergencies
although i must admit
i’ve never ever used it
just to take a shit
June 14, 2011 at 3:15 pm
Jesus, why is it in pink? I would say the whistle is for when they fall and can’t get up, the cork for farts, the corn cob for when they run out of TP, the band aid because they obviously run into shit and bleed, and why the hell doesn’t the zipper work for real? If i pay $15 i want a working zipper.
June 14, 2011 at 3:16 pm
I’m waiting for the Dr. Seuss version.
June 14, 2011 at 3:25 pm
This puts a whole new meaning to “Hop On Pop”
June 14, 2011 at 4:29 pm
Will you wear these while you vote?
Will you put them on a goat?
June 14, 2011 at 3:18 pm
Oh! low-rise, slim-guys
Gift for fathers’s day I dream
Steampunk underpants
June 14, 2011 at 3:19 pm
Sing to the tune of Frosty the Snowman (and yes it’s a tad long)
Rusty the farmer
Was a ruddy hearty man
With a corncob toy sewn to his underclothes
And two pockets full of bran
Rusty the farmer
Is a crazy man they say
And he became quite mean
When the grass turned green
From a gift he got one day
There must have been some magic
Where his one-eyed snake was bound
For when he wore his Town and Country Seat Covers
He began to dance around
Rusty the farmer
Was shocked as he could be
And the children say
On a whistle he played
Just the same as Regretsy
Rusty the farmer
Had a big bandaid give a-way
Then he said we’re done
Now let’s have some fun
To keep the cupcakes at bay
Down to the forums
With a tissue in his hand
Ruining Etsy lives around the site
Saying mute me when you can
—This is Michelle. No call outs. I’m going to go ahead and shut this down now.
June 14, 2011 at 3:20 pm
A haiku –
My etsy penis
Is made from a corn cob
Please blow my whistle!
June 14, 2011 at 3:22 pm
What happens to a brief deferred?
Does it dry up, like a raisin in the sun?
Does it fester line a sore, and then run?
Does it stink like rotted meat?
Or crust and sugar over, like a syrupy sweet?
Maybe it just sags with a heavy load,
Or does it explode?
(I only changed two words. The Fair Use folks will be on my ass like a pair of underpants with a cork sewn in them.)
June 14, 2011 at 3:24 pm
Hidden due to low comment rating. Click here to see.
June 14, 2011 at 3:24 pm
The Acrostic Gag You Just Paid $18 For
When you think your sex life needs some zing
He will see these are just the thing
I think the key to pleasure is laughter
My undies will have him hitting the rafters
So lock the doors and unzip these
I’ll tell you how to please
Corn cobs in this kit near his no-no bits may seem odd
Let’s not forget the whistle first to keep him from screaming to god
Ending there will be a bit of a bore
Fun is in the cleanup- that’s what the tissue, cork, and bandaid are for
Usually people start wondering if they have bought right
Coming to the end, and nothing funny in sight
Keen on explaining these horrors, I’ll finish in a bit
Especially since I need to count the money I made on this shit
Really now, you should see the joke is on you
You should be smarter with your money, and if you have a problem FUCK YOU
June 14, 2011 at 3:24 pm
Redneck crossdresser
Doesn’t quite get the concept
Meth’s a crazy drug
June 14, 2011 at 3:25 pm
A poem I like to call, “Johnson Survival Kit”:
I love you dear and that is why
I wish you to be safe. And so
you’re graced with survival kit
upon your special place. Lo,
the zipper packages your
special, squishy tube, but
what that other shit is for,
I haven’t half a clue.
June 14, 2011 at 7:13 pm
This is wonderful. I’m not sure if I like the title or “special, squishy tube” better.
June 14, 2011 at 3:28 pm
And I thought my underpants didn’t make sense *shameless plug…available this month in the April’s Army Store***
http://www.etsy.com/listing/75688763/mr-mustachio-octopants-the-seven-legged
June 14, 2011 at 3:30 pm
I grow old… I grow old…
I shall buy these stupid undies ’cause I’m cold.
Shall I give them as a gift? You’ll think I’m such a peach-
I shall make my husband wear them, and walk upon the beach.
I have heard his buddies laughing, each to each.
I do not think that he will laugh with me.
(apologies to T.S. Eliot)
June 14, 2011 at 3:50 pm
In the room the panties ride so low
Waiting to hear the whistle blow.
June 14, 2011 at 4:03 pm
Nice! I didn’t have the energy to do the whole Love Song.
June 14, 2011 at 4:27 pm
My brain was not up to the task of “Prufrocking,” Delsarte, so I was thrilled to see your take. Well done!
June 14, 2011 at 3:33 pm
This day is all about you, Pops.
Which is why we pulled out all the stops.
No better gift to say, sorry for our fighties
Than a tricked-out pair of tighty whities.
The corncob is plastic wrapped.
Use it when you’re feeling zapped.
Say, is that a cork you have dangling?
Mom’ll be angling for some of that sweet jangling.
She never could resist a man with patch pockets…
June 14, 2011 at 3:36 pm
I just did three verses so far. Sorry about any formatting issues.
Once upon a mid-day sunny, while I tried to ponder something funny,
Over many a dumb and ridiculous volume of internet lore,
While I sipped, nearly napping, suddenly there came a crapping,
As of some one gently fapping, fapping, at my ‘puter screen,
“Tis some jack ass,’ I muttered, “Crapping on my ‘puter screen-
Now where is my Listerine?’
Ah, distinctly I recall, it was in the days of Fall,
And each dying dream I ever had, wrought its ghost upon the floor,
Eagerly I wished for the funds, -from my ‘rents I sought to sponge,
From my video games surcease of sorrow – sorrow for my etsy store-
For the bare and ineffective shop that is my etsy store -
Nameless here for evermore.
June 14, 2011 at 3:37 pm
And the cottony sad uncertain rustling of each rainbow curtain,
thrilled me – filled me with fantastic whimsy never felt before;
So that now, to still the beating of my heart, I stood repeating,
“Tis some jackass, with zipper’d skivvies, crapping ‘pon my screen’
Some silly jackass, with zipper undies, crapping ‘pon my screen’
‘Tis no reason to intervene.
June 14, 2011 at 3:53 pm
You’re doing Poe’s “The Raven”? Good show! Loving the first three verses so far.
June 14, 2011 at 6:47 pm
“We’re not worthy, we’re not worthy” ~ Wayne and Garth
June 14, 2011 at 6:57 pm
sorry i skimmed thru to check to see if the raven had been done, so i started one
June 15, 2011 at 12:54 am
Presently my soul grew stronger; hesitating then no longer,
`Sir,’ said I, `or Madam, truly your forgiveness I implore;
But the fact is I was napping, and so gently you came crapping,
’Tis surely that this crapping, crapping at my ‘puter screen,
‘Tis a silly mistake; a joke’ – here I gaped at my ‘puter screen; -
Still it remained, this thing obscene.
Deep into that darkness looking, long I stood there freaking, spooking,
Doubting, dreaming dreams no Regretsian should have to endure;
But the silence was unbroken, and the screensaver gave no token,
And the only word there spoken was the whispered word, `failure!’
This I whispered, and an echo murmured back the words, `failure!’
And there it sat-that etsy “couture”.
June 14, 2011 at 3:38 pm
The mind
It boggles
Not even
Beer goggles
Can help
June 14, 2011 at 3:40 pm
Shall I compare thee to Novelty Underpants?
Thou art more whimsical and multipurpose:
Rough wind may make the whistle bob and dance,
While Zipper’s use is strange and nigh to worthless.
Sometime too rough corncob scrapes the rear,
And oft frail tissue tears and fails;
Forget not hidden cork mayest interfere,
To change the size of myriad smells.
But thy eternal fuckery shall not fade
Nor lose possession of thy glittering tears;
Nor shall Taste brag thou wanderest in his shade,
When in eternal steampunk rest your gears.
So long as men can breathe, or eyes can see,
So lives Etsy, and this gives life to thee.
June 14, 2011 at 6:32 pm
And I ask you WHO would not swoon to be compared to novelty underpants?!? Effin’ Brilliant!
June 14, 2011 at 3:48 pm
The Secret Life of the American Etsian:
A Traditional Sonnet
Some panties are practical.
Some panties are skanky.
Some panties are were born from a woom*.
And some panties are brown and ranky.
But I have something you’ve never seen,
Where a sense of humor is a MUST.
I call them town and country seats,
And you may think that’s just.
But secretly I use them
For my sexy hootenanies.
You should blow your rape whistle,
Or I’ll smack you in the fanny.
The horses will blow their noses,
And the cow will groan and mutter,
Because we’ll dance away in the hay,
And then cork up all their udders.
And when I grab that corn to shuck,
We’re going to end with a Whimsicle Fuck.
*woom: the metaphorical combination of a womb and a loom, signifying the anthropomorphic birth of fabric coming into the world covered in its thready placenta.
June 14, 2011 at 3:50 pm
Actually this isn’t a sonnet. And I call myself an English major BWA.
June 16, 2011 at 7:34 am
I’m a sucker for humorous footnotes.
June 14, 2011 at 3:50 pm
A zipper with no function,
A cheap bandaid for that sore,
A whistle to draw attention,
Need I say more?
It’s got pink ribbons and pockets
Just for your special man;
A corn cob when he’s frisky,
A tissue when he’s sad.
Finally, a cork to block the flow
Of overwhelming love he’ll feel
The day you say,
“Hunnie, these underwear are for you!”.
June 14, 2011 at 3:51 pm
This gift you’ve been given is as tight as it is white,
and the person who gave it wants to spice up your night.
It’s the perfect tool kit for men who call the shots
with all supplies tucked behind pink polka dots
The whistle’s a signal, for it must be made plain
when its time for some ho to take a ride on your train.
The zipper provides free access to your shlong,
so you can get busy with your underwear on.
The cork is designed to be gingerly placed
in her complaining mouth. Shove it right in her face!
The bandaid’s for when she gets crazy as hell
and cuts your skin with a long fingernail.
You already know what the corn cob’s for, don’t you?
Umm… This is embarrassing. You’ll figure out what to do.
The tissue is perfect for when your night’s finally done
and you say, “Clean up and get out. I’ve had my fun!”
So head out with some roofies or grab a willing lover
and rock her world with this Man’s Town and Country Seat Cover.
June 14, 2011 at 3:51 pm
I’ve got something in my pocket;
I could use it on my ass.
I keep it very close at hand
Just in case I’m passing gas.
It beats a cork or stopper;
They just make me more annoyed!
So I’ll take it out and put it on:
It’s a Curad for my ‘rhoid!
June 14, 2011 at 3:52 pm
Another Bad Idea (Feat. Men’s Town & Country Seat Covers)
Toilet seat covers come in all kinds of shapes;
from Reusable Potty Safeguards©, to MaryJane leaves.
But what about covers you can sport on-the-run,
with band-aids and rape whistles and cork-tissue fun?
Now husbands can squat down without getting frazzled
And poop into undies that are corn-cob bedazzled
with useless pockets and cul-de-sac zippers –
stay tuned for my potato-velcro-patched-harmonica-slippers!
June 14, 2011 at 3:52 pm
Gag Gift
~a haiku~
Corncobs, underpants
What is this…I don’t even…
Whimsicle fuck’ry
June 14, 2011 at 3:56 pm
There once was a mad Etsy seller
Who needed a gift for her feller
So she thought it was fun
To get out her (glue) gun
And now WTF should we tell her?
June 14, 2011 at 4:06 pm
a whislte for when he is wanting
a zipper for easy access
a pocket for storing your band-aid
(the band-aid for when the zip sticks)
the briefs that he’ll love to open
in front his family and friends
the pink bows will set all to giggling
the corn cob? well that’s for…
the end
June 14, 2011 at 4:06 pm
There once were men’s undies with zipper
That turned out to be quite a nipper
So he used a band aid
For when he’s unmade
And now he’s equipped for Yom Kippur
June 14, 2011 at 4:11 pm
so much depends
upon
a little piece of
cork
sewn to pink
ribbon
beside my father’s
butthole.
June 14, 2011 at 5:25 pm
Ugh, this is what I get for just skimming through other comments instead of giving each one the attention it deserves. I didn’t see Mistletoe’s earlier comment. Ah, well.
June 14, 2011 at 6:19 pm
No need to apologize. Again, great minds tell each other they think alike.
June 14, 2011 at 6:24 pm
totally loving these William Carlos Williams “parodies.” What a great way to honor our high school English teachers who made us read these and make up meanings for them!
June 14, 2011 at 4:11 pm
Zippy Poopy
Whistle Blow
Bandage on my
no-no hole!
June 14, 2011 at 4:15 pm
“And Etsy marches on…”
Bring me your resellers!
Your talentless and unimaginative!
There is a venue for you all!
My children, My sunshine, My cupcakes,
The double rainbows
Have never shown so bright.
We must march on!
Stomp out the originals!
The handmade, one-of-a-kind army!
Strike back, you hand assemled masses!
We shall not hide in shadows any longer,
Stand tall!
Stand tall upon your steampunk mountain!
Today we conquer Etsy!
Tomorrow, THE WORLD!!
June 14, 2011 at 7:15 pm
cripes! *assembled
Thats what I get for typing too fast…damnit.
June 14, 2011 at 4:15 pm
Hidden due to low comment rating. Click here to see.
June 14, 2011 at 4:16 pm
This is Just to Say
I have eaten
the corncob
that was in the icebox
and which
you were probably
saving
for novelty underpants
Forgive me
it was delicious
so dry
and so whimsicle
June 14, 2011 at 4:33 pm
Plums in the icebox POEM.
My poetry teacher claims it was about sex.
I don’t think so, because last I checked I didn’t have any icy plums in my bajingo.
June 14, 2011 at 6:20 pm
Genius, dude, genius.
The White Skivvies
There’s no Depends
under
The fake pink
zipper
Appliquéd with thin
thread
Next to the blue
Whistle
(this isn’t an entry, it’s an homage to the genius who wrote the one above it.)
June 14, 2011 at 4:17 pm
If you want some fun time,
When you’re all alone -
Country men consult this rhyme:
Use these to work the bone.
An item anyone can blow
Is right inside these shorts,
As well as cobs and corks, you know,
For plugging other ports.
A zipper on the front you see,
For quick access to the sink,
And the tissues and the bandaids be
For the wankrash on your dink.
June 14, 2011 at 4:17 pm
A farmer’s butt did its business in pits
In the days of my farm girl Granny.
And since collards and grits make intolerable shits
They used wet corn cobs on that fanny.
June 14, 2011 at 4:17 pm
Who doesn’t want manties with fuck’ry galore,
Items dear dad needs, so he won’t be a bore.
Tissue to clean up a dirty love rocket
Stored right here in a pretty pink pocket
For something to blow, here’s a dandy whistle
As long as she don’t forget his cock missile.
A cork for his bum hole, if that’s what he’d like
A corn cob too, that he’ll ride like a bike.
A zipper down front for entry fast and quick
If it happens to catch, band aids fix the nick.
All of this might seem like a bit over kill
But all men would love to join in the thrill
This idea was mine, the copy right shows
Don’t think of stealing it, you skanks, tramps and hos.
Just give me your money, he’ll be way hipper,
I’ll send you used undies, some trash and a zipper.
June 14, 2011 at 4:22 pm
I don’t see a corn cob in that picture!
June 14, 2011 at 4:48 pm
Click thru.
June 14, 2011 at 4:49 pm
It’s quite small, and wrapped in plastic! Don’t ask me…
June 14, 2011 at 5:09 pm
This comment begs to be mis-applied to other things.
June 14, 2011 at 5:11 pm
Boxers, or briefs?
Whichever your beliefs,
Know this:
It’s quite small,
And wrapped in plastic…
Don’t ask me,
For ’tis Whimsicle Fuckery.
June 14, 2011 at 8:28 pm
Rana, I love you.
June 14, 2011 at 4:22 pm
Everyone loves novelty underpants,
It’s a Regretsy staple for amusing rants.
But what meaning does this crappy gift seek?
I’ll give it a shot, since underwear was newsworthy last week.
For a man with chronic constipation,
A band-aid may help after your bowl elimination.
Or maybe it’s diarrhea that’s at work,
And for that, we have a handy cork.
A little flap isn’t enough to hold your giant whipper
So don’t get that dick caught in the inconvenient zipper
But most of all don’t Tweet yourself in your tightie whites
It’s so overdone, may I suggest other lowlights:
Be a hipster and slap on a mustache,
Or use a butt plug for a certain panache,
Maybe forward you lover a nice penis cozy,
Made of fresh lavender and sweet purple posies.
But if your name happens to be Mike
Toss the underwear off and send us a nude shot
That’s something we’ll all like a lot.
June 14, 2011 at 4:23 pm
Corncobs for wiping my anus,
and corks for plugging it up -
I guess I should call Seamus
to let the sheep loose for the tup.
June 14, 2011 at 4:29 pm
WHY IS THERE A CORN COB TIED TO YOUR UNDERPANTS?
Is it so you won’t forget your turkey skants?
Does it keep you standing straight; not on a slant?
Would you wear this outside in the vineyards of France?
That’s the wad. If someone can work in lance, dance, prance, stamps, askance, stance, and/or romance — go for it!
June 14, 2011 at 4:37 pm
The Underpants Sonnet
I was wasting my lunch hour on etsy,
When I suddenly remembered it’s your birthday!
How, oh how could I forgetsy?
I’m hoping to find something not gay.
I started searching the net with out delay
And at the computer screen I started to blurt
Do you really need something that will puree?
I might be coming down with the butthurt.
I went back to etsy and started to squirt,
Pink shit, glued on underpants, no fucking way!
It was then I knew I had it pay dirt,
And found the perfect gift for your special day.
So just you be glad that I didn’t decide knit,
And instead bought you some damn special shit.
June 14, 2011 at 4:38 pm
I once knew a girl in Kentucky,
And I thought that with her I’d get lucky.
So I unzipped my zipper,
and whistled my whistle,
And offered her corn on a cob
But the girl that I knew from Kentucky
thought I was rude so she clubbed me
with a green bottle beer
and she corked up my rear
though a bandaid and tissue she left me
To this day i don’t know if I’m lucky
to have met this one girl from Kentucky
in that single harsh blow
I discovered that – oh! –
I love to get wild with my butt-y!
June 14, 2011 at 4:38 pm
Ahem, here goes:
There once was a man who would shave,
His pubes to the flesh in a cave.
A nick he did scratch on the side of his ass,
And so a band-aid he craved.
There once was a man with a kink,
Who’d beat off quick as a blink.
Mess wasn’t an issue,
As he had a tissue.
There once was a lover of art,
Who would in the gallery fart.
They tried a cork,
But it didn’t work,
So a corn cob was stuck up his pork.
…can you tell I took a poetry class in college?
June 14, 2011 at 4:38 pm
Shove a corn cob up your
Blow the whistle when you cum
Clean your mess with a tissue
Stick the cork in your bum
Make your way to the loo
And release the air in your butt
If you nick your weiner in the zipper
Here’s a band aid for the cut
June 14, 2011 at 4:41 pm
You know. If you replace the corn cob with a lollipop, and the whistle with one of those vaporub inhalers (which is what it looks like anyway), you’ve basically made a candyraver costume.
June 14, 2011 at 4:42 pm
I see London
I see France
Let’s see you make
That corncob dance
…or…
The Town & Country
Pink seat cover
Is just for you
My lusty lover.
Zip it up
Or zip it down,
Blow that whistle
All ’round town!
Store those bandaids
In your pocket.
When your semen
Starts to rocket,
Use the tissue
To wipe your knob.
You’ll lose your marbles,
But not your cob!
And of course
That handy cork
Keeps farts inside,
Ya big ol’ orc!
June 14, 2011 at 4:44 pm
I see Paris
I see France
I don’t see you getting laid
In these underdpants.
June 14, 2011 at 4:47 pm
If you find your man in these knickers be sure to take issue
Once you’ve cried tears of pain in the accompanying tissue
It’s certainly about time that you blew the whistle
What’s he hiding behind that zipper – his misguided missile?
A bandaid? A cork? What the hell is it all for?
These drawers have it all. Can there possibly be more?
And just when you think they can’t get any better
What’s the corncob for? Becoming a trend setter?
June 14, 2011 at 4:48 pm
O, underpants of dubious origin,
Say why hast thou a zipper on the junk?
Is it to speed the wanton way to sin?
And harass many others with thy spunk?
Perhaps the zipper’s meant to catch thy dick,
The tissue and the band-aid’s staunch thy blood,
The whistle’s meant to call aid for thy prick.
The corn cob’s meant to bone thy cornhole good,
The cork to plug the sphincter’s steaming hole,
Pockets store the anal lubrication.
These sexy whitie-tighties take their toll
Upon the sanity of all the nation.
A funny gag gift they indeed may be -
Thou art like to gag when worn to see.
June 14, 2011 at 4:50 pm
I call this “Happy Father’s Day”
Think he has everything?
Well you thought wrong!
Get him some underwear,
But not a thong!
Get him the only underwear
That are fun to wear!
With a zipper in front
And a cork in the back,
This is a gift that he’ll
Never take back!
Corn cob’s and whistles,
Band aid’s and tissues.
If he really likes this
Then you know he has issues!
June 14, 2011 at 4:55 pm
Upon the cork
the unerdwear set.
With pink dots, and zippers, and tighties so white,
the etsyier let,
the whistle blow,
Down. Down. Down.
Rape resistant undies,
For country, field, and town.
A pill in the pocket,
a shot glass in the flap.
I fill my mouth with vodka, and glory, and stout
the reader wept,
on bandaid flesh,
Bled. Bled. Bled.
Cork in my mouth,
I’m drunk, amused, and high.
June 14, 2011 at 4:59 pm
The way to spruce up Hanes
For a person with no brains
Is pink fabric with some polka dots so tiny.
When some pockets you have made,
And you’ve huffed a can of Raid,
Add some random things to liven up his hiney!
For what ass won’t break a sob
If it’s lacking a corn cob?
And what shit can be completed without tissue?
And what butt can’t use a stopper
When you’re dying for the hopper
But the lack of nearby bathrooms is an issue?
And a zip for when you piss’ll
Go so great beside a whistle
For who doesn’t like some music while they pee?
If you get caught in the zipper
Don’t be mad, stay nice and chipper!
There’s a band-aid right beside your injured wee!
Though it’s dumber than a hammer
Get your wallet out and clamor
For this super magnum opus of the whimsicle.
Let the fuckery advance,
Clap your hands and do a dance
For this fine Regretsy covering of the testicle!
June 14, 2011 at 5:04 pm
There once was a girl from Peru
Whose tastes were sadly askew
she glued crap to some briefs
and to her disbelief
it was a whimsicle fuckery debut.
June 14, 2011 at 5:05 pm
Bah I am not creative: ( I know it sucks lol)
F is for the fucked up shit they give you
A is for the alcohol you’d rather drink
T is for the trash bin they will go in
H is for the hopelessness in what they think
E is for the emotions they will shed you
R is for the randomness of this item semi pink
S is for the sewed on zipper and whistle
D us for the dipshit ideas that do stink
A is for the afterthought of the cork and cobb
Y is for the “Why do you buy this shit on Etsy” Wink
That spells Father’s Day, Father’s Day, Father’s day
For crap gifts and ideas to give, instead give alcohol instead
June 14, 2011 at 5:05 pm
Gift for my stupid sister’s boyfriend
So I bought you fugly underpants
Because you’re so hard to buy for
I even wrapped it up so pretty
In a plastic bag from the fat guy store.
You like that fat guy store so much
I could really not help myself
I don’t see what my sister sees in you
But your ass is as big as a shelf.
So anyway here’s your awesome gift
You big disgusting slob
I hope you trip your drunken ass
And fall on that stupid corn cob.
June 14, 2011 at 5:12 pm
There once was a man from Nantucket,
Who’s lust for cornholing was epic,
He rigged up his shorts (for parties of course!)
Too bad the old skeez got the sepsis.
June 14, 2011 at 5:12 pm
There was an etsy seller named VicSews
Who didn’t know where a man’s wang goes
Sewed up some drawers that really blows
poor old little VicSews
June 14, 2011 at 5:16 pm
There once was a laddie from Cork
who carried bandaids for his dork
he tripped on a thistle
and fell on his whistle
and lost a few trips from the stork
June 14, 2011 at 6:03 pm
rofl, Props! Simple & sweet!
June 14, 2011 at 6:23 pm
THAT’s how you do it!
June 14, 2011 at 5:19 pm
So you got your ‘bit’ stuck in the zip?
Blow the whistle! Blow the whistle!
The bandaid will help, cover the welt,
Don’t rip it off! Don’t rip it off!
And if you bite, too much curry tonight,
Use the cork! Use the cork!
Then use the corn, to ease the burn,
Rectal fire! Rectal fire!
June 15, 2011 at 12:32 am
I can’t believe this is my first ever comment on regretsy…can only go up from here, right?
June 14, 2011 at 5:19 pm
Rime of the Men’s seat cover
Farewell, farewell! but this I tell
To thee, thou Etsy-Guest!
Who prayeth well, who crafteth well
with zip and pen and whistle.
Who stitcheth best, who gluegun best
All things so whimsical;
For the dear Mod who bringeth us,
great fuckery for all.”
The Underpants, so tighty white,
Who is lacking in decor,
Is gone; and now the Gag Gift Pants
are brought unto the fore.
I went like one that hath been stunned,
And is of sense forlorn:
A sadder and a wiser man,
But I’m not sure about the corn…
(not sure how much sense it makes, but I had fun
)
June 14, 2011 at 6:05 pm
Rockin’ awesome!
June 14, 2011 at 10:21 pm
nah, it makes sense, it’s wonderful.
& me, i am truly having a wonderful time reading all this wacked out literacy.
yow.
June 14, 2011 at 5:24 pm
Is this the real life
Or is it fuckery?
I’ve got a corncob
Tied to my man panties
Why is it there
On my underwear
We’ll see…
I’m just a sad dad
This father’s day’s shitty
Because my whimsicle wife and kids
Spent money on this stupid shit
I’ll hang myself with them you see…
You’ll see….
June 14, 2011 at 5:27 pm
This is the perfect piece of underwear,
for any occasion.
Whether it’s on a dare,
Or fun on vacation.
Then man in your life,
will love the objects enclosed.
As a gift from a wife,
He’d be totally hosed.
There is fun galore, in these underpants
A bandaid for cuts, The whistle for fun,
You can grab them quickly, in a pair of skants.
The tissue is for when you are done!
For things such as the corn cob and the cork
There is no explanation.
I think it has something to do with pork.
And a possible connection with castration.
This gift is meant for any man,
Your husband, brother,
father, or that hippie in the van.
But please, for sanity’s sake, don’t give it to your mother.
June 14, 2011 at 5:29 pm
Try my magic underwear,
(No, not the Mormon kind!)
Something this special and rare
Is truly an Etsy find!
Get this great deal, if you dare,
Just $14.99!
This little poem explains it all,
A sense of humor is a must.
Got a good friend to appall?
A special someone to disgust?
Have some fun, contain your balls,
Laugh ’til your sides bust.
Hey, don’t be so high and mighty!
My Etsy shop is legit.
Crap stuck to tightie-wighties,
Bonus points if they fit.
Hope your man is not too brighty.
Else you’ll hear, “What is this shit?”
Workmanship is just so-so,
And its purpose is a bit confused,
But this gift is always apropos,
Your friends will be amused.
But just one thing you need to know,
These skivvies, they are used.
June 14, 2011 at 5:41 pm
When zipping these manties be wary,
Especially if “Willy” is hairy.
But if you get caught,
It’s not all for naught,
The bandage and corn will make merry.
June 14, 2011 at 5:48 pm
Wear oh wear have my Hanes done gone?
They’re corn cobbin’ with your BVD’s in Hong Kong!
With a whistling pair of Victoria Secret,
And her corky thong friend from Kievit.
Clinging tissues and sticking band-aids,
They’re Fun_tastic antics are their tirades!
You’re sure to see them with buddy Playtex
As they nearly always practice Safesex,
Even when they are “seated” ‘tween Glenn Beck’s slicks,
Or flossing (no) Country (for old) Men’s sticks!
So zipper – up your mates pink derrieres,
Glue pockets up front with loving care,
Then strut though the ward with pen on a string,
Shouting my address for HK’s shitty box of something!
June 14, 2011 at 5:52 pm
If you are ever in an accident
and you are black and blue.
These underpants will be so great
to those who rescue you.
After they cut your trousers off, they will find every thing they need.
A bandaid is in a handy pocket to mend a cut that bleeds.
If your injuries are of a kind more masculine,
EMTs can use the zip to tuck your balls back in.
And if you die, you’re dead, kaput,
Your name they’ll write upon your foot.
June 14, 2011 at 5:55 pm
I left out the corncob and the cork.
June 14, 2011 at 7:54 pm
and the whistle.
Oh, crumbs. My poem was as stupid as the underwear!
June 14, 2011 at 5:55 pm
Little pink pockets with small polka dots,
Hold some junk that seems there for no reason;
But since you’re wearing them under your pants
They are perfect for every season.
On warm Summer days, you’ll cause quite a craze
If you pull out the blue whistle slowly,
And hold a sign with an arrow which points
Coyly downward and simply says “Blow Me.”
In the Fall, if more than leaves should descend
And you find that you land on your bucket,
While you are sore, you can just unpack your
Corn cob pipe and then sit there and suck it.
When Winter winds blow, and chill out your junk
so your temperature’s out of ratio,
Just the smart gals can skip the faux zipper
To offer the warmth of fellatio.
Alas in the Spring, when everything
Is sprung and growing, and all is cockade,
You are prepared for what sucks or might sting,
‘Cause you’ve got handy dandy bandaid.
June 14, 2011 at 6:25 pm
Either I’m getting more
drunktired or they’re getting better and better.June 14, 2011 at 5:58 pm
Could it be this this pink-adorned rag
Comprises all pleasures in one grab bag?
“Since there’s many a slip ‘twixt ‘cup’ and lip
(even when there is no zip)
a bandaid” thought the Etsy dip,
“in a a handy pocket on the hip!”
“A whistle to measure heavy breathing, for
when he blows his top, I’ll be leaving!
Better his emission in a tissue;
swallowing is not an issue!”
A cork is there for nether action.
A corncob provides the larger traction!
Or is this an Etsyier’s date time-saver?
A gift for a lad who has captured her favor?
If he doesn’t think these bedizzened drawers cute,
it is unlikely that the relationship will bear fruit!
June 14, 2011 at 6:01 pm
How about a haiku?
Undies from Walmart
Worn once but you will not know
Why these did get made
And a short poem in the mannerisms of my brother’s Russian construction boss.
Why for you put piece on side
Of undershorts men no wear on this site
For many wedgie come
No tear from my eye if you cry
June 14, 2011 at 6:03 pm
The man who sports these underpants
Will cause all the ladies to glance
While he may be a hunk,
With these wrapping his junk
He’d be better off wearing some skants
June 14, 2011 at 6:08 pm
Not much of a poet myself so I looked to the best for “inspriation.”
She Crafts in Lameness
She crafts in lameness, into the night
Of corncob & tissue, these undies for guys,
All that’s best of pink and white
Meets in zipper, whistle & cork surprise;
Though are dingy, still count as white
While her lack of skills she still denies.
June 14, 2011 at 6:16 pm
Once upon a work day dreary
as i pondered drunk and weary
Over many a quaint and curious page of etsy porn,
While I sat there boredly lurkin, suddenly there came a merkin,
On a pair of panties, panties on my monitor.
`’Tis some fuckery ,’ I muttered, `shining on my monitor,
these where created for french whores’
Ah, whimsicley I swooned it was in the month of June
And each separate etsy listing made my head bang upon the floor.
Eagerly I searched in despair – vainly for a pair of under wear
from which corn cobs hung from derriere – dangling from the derriere
For the zipper there and pockets pink. Sewn on there, for ever more
searching here for evermore.
( to be continued)
June 14, 2011 at 6:51 pm
Presently my rage grew stronger; i could take it now no longer,
`GRRR,’ said I, `beaver dam, truly i could take this shit no more
But the fact is I was needing,something causing anal bleeding,
im reduced random tweeting, pleading for some underwear,
That I scarce could believe my luck’ – here I found the underwear
curads there, and nothing more.
June 14, 2011 at 10:39 pm
After all the brilliance in these comments and all the belly laughs, it was rhyming “lurkin” with “merkin” that brought me to tears. Thank you. Best rhyme ever.
June 15, 2011 at 9:17 am
i was giggling to myself as i did this, much to the dismay of my hubby
June 14, 2011 at 6:18 pm
Don’t get caught
with your underpants down
When there’s a new guy
who likes corn-holes in town.
With these whitey tighties
You’ll be prepared
A whistle and zipper
will ease all your cares.
The band aid’s for boo boos
What else would it be?
To prevent anal seepage
While at tea with the Queen?
Remember, dear friends,
as you go ’bout your day
When you don’t get corn-holed,
You’ll have more time to play.
-Fin-
June 14, 2011 at 6:22 pm
Prison can be such a terrible place,
But you can get through it with a smile on your face.
Just put on your panties and all ’round will see,
Nothing can bug you, you’re chock full of glee.
But should you get down and your ass it does hurt,
Remember this poem and to always stay alert.
This whistle’s for calling the jail guards for help,
And should it not work, just remember to yelp.
The corncob and cork are for keeping things out,
Just plug it right up – don’t forget not to shout.
A zipper to show you are not down to fuck,
A band-aid to protect if you’ve ran out of luck.
Now take out the tissue – let’s all have a cry,
For you’re now in prison – PROTECT YOUR BROWN EYE!!!
June 14, 2011 at 6:57 pm
Wish I could give this one 10 thumbs up!
June 14, 2011 at 6:34 pm
Craftard of Etsyland
I meet a craftard from Etsyland
Who said: — Corncob and band aid with a cork
Belong on underpants. Near the tragic BVDs,
Half assed, a shatter’ d man sighs, whose frown
And trembling lip and lack of any command
Tell that carftard to feelings of shame was dead
And continued on to adhere these lifeless things,
The whistle, tissue, and pink trim, not red.
And in the front, a zipper appears,
A “fun-tastic” garment for Queens, not kings.
Look on my work, ye tasteful, and despair!
June 14, 2011 at 6:35 pm
Shit in my pants has a whole different meaning
I pick things up when I’ve been cleaning
A band-aid, a tissue, a cork and a zipper,
Add a whistle and it couldn’t be hipper
One more addition is some corn on the cob
People will “gag” when they think it’s you knob.
June 14, 2011 at 6:40 pm
“your” knob. Shit, I’m drunk.
June 14, 2011 at 6:47 pm
Oh my, what is this?
A gift for your man
I had hoped for a hentai porn
Straight from Japan
A zippered crotch on the bulge
And pink pockets hand-sewn
Thanks, honey- I guess
I would have rather been blown
And band-aids-gee, thanks
Will I be needing their use?
Are you planning on biting
Through my Hanes underoos?
June 14, 2011 at 6:54 pm
A Highly Cute (Inappropriate) Poem:
The family shared a laugh
when dad saw these underpants.
It reminded us when we were remiss
to realize he was The Rapist,
And not a Therapist.
The bandaid because he cared
The whistle because he teased
A zipper in the front
For his quick, non-consensual ease.
Tissues were essential
The cork to keep “things” shut
The corn cob was a special
Item for the butt.
June 14, 2011 at 7:06 pm
D is for da many gifts you gave me
A is for the apple of my eye
D is the dancin in your skivvies
D is for da golf clubs or a tie
Y Why because you refused to treat my paranoid schozophrenia when I was younger and now I’m reduced to selling novelty underwear to pay for the swedish fish that Orthon the purple Schnauzer demands as tribute.
June 14, 2011 at 7:09 pm
Dear TS Elliot: Please forgive me for what I am about to do.
I. The Whitey Tighties
UNDERWEAR is the cruelest undergarment, drooping
Limply with slack elastic, mixing
Hilarity and incomprehension,
With just a touch of gingham.
Zipper keeps things zippy,
Covering man parts in delightful pink,
Making us think of dried tubers.
The whistle surprised us, coming over the pocket
For no apparent reason
With a bandaid and a tissue, and corncob
Just barely visible in the Hofgarten
Its pockets slack and lifeless, it seemed to say:
Bin gar keine Russin, stamm’ aus Litauen, echt deutsch.
And just when we were thinking
WTF? We realized we had been dreaming
Of such rubbish to come into our lives,
Looking into the heart of light, the silence.
June 14, 2011 at 11:00 pm
You should get three English credits for that.
June 15, 2011 at 9:12 am
And they said I would never use my English Lit degree!
June 14, 2011 at 7:14 pm
Should you ask me, whence these undies?
Whence these zippers, whistles, Band-Aids,
With the odors blocked by corn cobs,
With the “dew” sopped up with tissues,
With the clockwork charm of steampunk,
With the sadness of the hipsters,
With their frequent hairy armpits,
And their ugly trash “upcycling”
And their Chinese junk reselling?
June 14, 2011 at 7:15 pm
Wow – three “Stopping by Woods On a Snowy Evening,” two “Ozymandias,” two “The Raven,” and two “Prufrock.” This is one literate group of whimsicle fuckers!
June 14, 2011 at 8:40 pm
That is why I love us, Mapleleaves.
June 14, 2011 at 9:21 pm
Somebody needs to bust out the Chaucer. The first three lines mention “April” and “liquor,” for fuck’s sake!
June 15, 2011 at 9:35 am
I truly wanted to do a Robert Burns ode to a mousie, but i was to drunk to do the brougue
June 14, 2011 at 7:16 pm
Something about William Carlos Williams just screams out for parody:
this is just to say
I have decorated
the underpants
that were in
your drawer
with a zipper,
corn cob,
whistle,
band aid and cork
forgive me
I had a glue gun
and tons of
whimsicle fuckery
June 14, 2011 at 9:04 pm
In highschool, I had to write a 2 page, single-spaced analysis on that poem because I hadn’t picked a poem beforehand (smartass teacher :p)Two pages isnt a lot, but that poem doesn’t have a whole heck of a lot to it either
June 14, 2011 at 11:38 pm
WCW is one of the few poets I actively hate. Others I might not like, but him I’d love to punch in the throat. Taking a sentence and cutting it up into several lines does not a poem make. Also, who the fuck raids a fridge for plums?
June 14, 2011 at 7:28 pm
The whistle says: Come across, try me; see how good I am.
The corn cob in the back says: Look at me; learn how to stand up.
The white briefs say: I go on; around, under, over, I go on.
A kneeling, scraggly cork says: I am here yet; they nearly got me last year.
A cute little poem slides by on a high wind calling: I know why; I’ll see you to-morrow; I’ll tell you everything to-morrow.
(based on “Potomac Town in February” by Carl Sandberg)
No, not funny at all. But I had to find a poem no one had used yet.
June 14, 2011 at 7:45 pm
Are you kidding, Mapleleaves? Multiple points for using Sandberg, and for the first line alone!
June 14, 2011 at 8:11 pm
(All I could have thought of with Sandburg was fog and little cat feet…and I don’t know how I would have worked tarted-up Hanes underwear into that.)
So, yes, yours was very funny!
In case my last post wasn’t clear.
June 14, 2011 at 9:25 pm
The fuckery comes
On little flouncecat feet.
It sits looking
over the front page
with a fake mustache
and then keeps calm and carries on.
June 15, 2011 at 7:10 am
Well, there ya go! Little flouncat feet….yes indeed!
June 14, 2011 at 8:44 pm
Not funny?
Butcha ARE, Blanche, ya ARE!!
June 14, 2011 at 9:52 pm
this is also wonderful, particularly {to me} the upstanding cob.
June 14, 2011 at 7:35 pm
I think that in this instance, it’s “gag” as in “to choke or cause to retch” rather than something entertaining.
However, I think the most appropriate response would be a third meaning of the word, “to restrict use of the mouth of by inserting a gag”. I have this cob of corn tied to my underwear for just such a purpose…
June 14, 2011 at 7:44 pm
On Etsy, there is this weird chick
For the men, she has quite a trick
Pube zips and pink pockets to wear
Town and Country for his derriere
And she wonders why he’s such a prick.
June 14, 2011 at 7:50 pm
Because I would not stop to shit
My girlfriend bought for me
This pair of tighty whities
With added fuckery
The cork is for my wowhole
The zipper for my junk
The corncob wipes the brown stuff
The tissue’s made for spunk
They’ve also got a whistle
Which I can loudly blow
If I need some assistance
When to the can I go
And last there is a band-aid
I’m not sure what that’s for
But I love my gag gift manties
A stranger made for me!
(apologies to Emily Dickinson)
June 14, 2011 at 7:52 pm
aw fuck! I totally botched the last verse. Seriously, I lost track of my edits and…it was gonna rhyme, I swear it.
Well, there goes my shot at the Box of Random Shit. *sigh*
June 15, 2011 at 9:31 am
The carriage held just he and I,
And whimsicle fuckery.
One of my favorite poems. Thank you.
June 14, 2011 at 8:08 pm
The joke is on you
Shorts. Pink pockets and zipper
and this damn haiku.
June 14, 2011 at 8:35 pm
i don’t know what this says about me but..
Cork is obvious
Tissue is obvious
Whistle is to alert someone for the need of TP if said tissue is not enough
in some places/times corncobs were used as TP
the bandaid i guess is for if he hurts himself with the corn cob..
AND the pockets can probably hold a condom too…
he is ALL SET.
June 14, 2011 at 8:41 pm
I’m too tired to tackle a poem about these. . .
but seriously, the seller totally missed an opportunity here. They should have dubbed these things JUNK DRAWERS!
June 14, 2011 at 8:53 pm
Ugh… I can’t post my poem
June 14, 2011 at 8:56 pm
After Hours
I entered the room and he followed behind.
A true Adonis; and our tongues intertwined.
As passions grew strong, our clothes fell to the floor.
A pair of white manties was all that he bore.
Trapped by a zipper, his jewels longed to be free.
So he unpacked his treasures- quite literally.
A cork, bandaid,and whistle were in his collection .
Lastly, a corn cob I’d mistook for an erection.
Allergic to latex, condoms hurt him for weeks.
So the cork was for after (to curb any leaks).
The bandaid, he used as a make-shift mouth-gag.
Then he picked up the cob and gave it a wag.
He slathered it with lube. The brand was Boy butter.
He turned away from me next. I felt a shudder.
The next move was on me. To please this rare god-
To please him completely till he shot his wad.
He wanted it bad. That was easy to see.
But did he want the cob or was this for me?
I decided to do it; inserting my missile.
Guess he wanted the corn, ’cause he blew his rape whistle
June 15, 2011 at 1:18 am
That’s awesome and nasty. Haha.
June 14, 2011 at 9:09 pm
Craftard Sews
In Cupcake Land did Craftard Sews
A bizarre gag gift decree:
Where underpants remade for man
With cork & corncob that should be banned
And pink zipper to set willie free.
So tighty whitey was fertile ground
For band-aid, & whistle to be girdled round:
And there were additions of bright pink sinuous frills
That looked so odd a man in public could not pee;
And here is fuckery as high as the hills,
Even for Etsy, it’s some bad scenery.
Not quite Xanadu, but I couldn’t resist one more.
June 14, 2011 at 9:24 pm
Roses are red,
Corncobs are yellow
Open the zipper,
And play with my fellow.
June 14, 2011 at 9:26 pm
Sunshine, squeals and sprinkler sprays
Coffee, cake and chats
Walks on sunny, summer days
Bad haircuts and hats
Some things just go together
Like cold hands in a glove
Like sea shells rest on soft warm sand
Like mens underwear, corn cobbs, a zipper, a whistle, a tissue and a cork
June 14, 2011 at 9:26 pm
I refuse to even attempt to explain this thing with delightful rhymes, but DAMN I really want to know what’s in that box.
June 14, 2011 at 9:37 pm
There was a young man from County Cork
Who had a corn cob next to his dork
With the whistle, bandaid, tissue and zipper
He said,”This makes me the Irish Sad Hipster.”
June 14, 2011 at 9:39 pm
Corn cob and zipper
Heighten the attraction.
Her gift was a gag,
And so was his reaction.
June 14, 2011 at 10:54 pm
Nice!
June 14, 2011 at 10:34 pm
Wow! I think we have a book here. We definitely could if the vulvaroos got equal poem time. I know that some of us did this for fun (like me) and/or to be a little raunchy, but some of you loser bitches have talent!
June 14, 2011 at 10:39 pm
Since no one seems to have figured it out (after 224 comments? really?), here’s my 2bit.
First, the zipper symbolizes the bajingo.
The items shown in the pockets represent the “feminine needs” products, the whistle being a tampon and the bandaid being a napkin, which are placed in their respective pouches as commonly found in underwear targeted for girls fresh out of red tent.
Still trying to figure out the tissue, corn cob, and cork. Their posterior placement gives rise to an eerie theory that they stand for anally derived pleasure. Corn cob for a vibrator, cork for a buttplug, and the tissue for to wipe thine tears of farewell to virginity.
June 14, 2011 at 11:04 pm
Quick, get out of those wombyn studies classes before it is too late!
June 14, 2011 at 10:45 pm
“Gag Gift for a Man”
A poorly written Limerick
There once was a Gag Gift for a Man
That one crafter bought for her husband Stan
The biggest kicker
Was not the pink zipper
But the skidmark upon its can
June 14, 2011 at 10:52 pm
Why is there a corn cob
tied to your underpants?
There’s gonna be a lump
When you’re kickin’in your skants.
June 14, 2011 at 10:58 pm
If this already posted, please ignore, but I think I overshot the character limit the first time, so I’ll try it in two installments.
In Etsy-Land did Helen K
A box of shit as prize decree:
To whosoever proves that they
Can tell in verse why Father’s Day
Deserves such fuckery.
For underpants for sale she found
With pockets pink were girdled round:
Where therein corncobs lurked and bandaids too,
And tissues peeked from polka-dotted square;
Their purpose no one but the seller knew,
The function of the cork she did not share.
June 14, 2011 at 10:59 pm
But oh! That enigmatic zipper which slanted
Down the fly front athwart a ribboned whistle!
A savage gift! as thoughtless and unwanted
As e’er beneath a sagging paunch was haunted
By woman gagging on her husband’s gristle!
And from Regretsy, with ceaseless snark and mocking,
Her minions writ their verse both droll and shocking,
A mighty fount of fuckery did burst:
And though some lines and rhymes were badly forced,
Huge fragments evidenced more win than fail,
The Etsy Cupcakes at our brilliance quail:
And ‘mid the craftards selling gifts that gag,
We proffer flounce-cats or ‘shop Christ in drag.
June 15, 2011 at 5:11 am
Utterly superb. Coleridge would have been proud to have inspired such a poignant tribute to all that is whimsicle.
June 15, 2011 at 9:27 am
i heard this in John Houston’s voice to the dwarf song of treasure
June 14, 2011 at 11:47 pm
A cute little poem
Couldn’t ever excuse this
“Gag gift” for a man
June 15, 2011 at 1:01 am
Your britches of shame,
With pink ribbons and bows,
Have a whistle, a wine cork,
Why the zipper? Who knows.
But I know that you
Will hold them true to your heart
Because of the time you shit out a corncob
When you thought you would fart.
June 15, 2011 at 1:12 am
Go ahead, pull my zipper.
What do you see?
A “corn cob pipe”… or is that just me? ; )
Put your mouth on my whistle.
Stop!!!
Please don’t suck like a Bissell.
Wait!!!
That Band-Aid there
I think it’s stuck to my hair!
This “hilarious” gag
Is getting to be a serious drag.
Tell me, what use do I have for a tissue and cork?
When you know damn well, I just want to pork.
So send these Hanes back to Etsy.
Woman, you are incredibly ditsy!
June 15, 2011 at 2:29 am
Instructions:
You may need some help with this little project -
Since you will experiment with foreign objects!
You see that zipper? It’s made for your crack!
Since the back is the front and the front is the back!
Before your day starts, simply unzip then kneel
Then prepare yourself for what you will feel.
A whistle to signal the corn’s deep enough-
(A “safety word” sound for when playing rough)
The cork is then used to keep the corn cob in there
And tissues if you cried through this affair.
Then be sure to check that your taint didn’t tear!
If so, then don’t worry, here’s a band-aid to wear!
Now start your day off, and have fun at work!
Just attend all your meetings with a secretive smirk!
Enjoy this new garment, I’m sure it’s a first-
Try some new items, like links of knockwurst!
My email is here if you wish to converse
**(No drycleaning charges will be reimbursed!)**
June 15, 2011 at 3:28 am
Father’s Day is here with a gift for my rod
Its manties and a whistle and a cork for my rear
the zippers in front with a cob for the ass
and thoughtful little tissues to dampen with wad
so come and sit on Daddys big lap
and Ill tell you what I really want for Fathers Day next year…
June 15, 2011 at 4:41 am
Much like something borrowed, blue,
Akin to something old and new,
These fun-time undies hold the clue
To why no one will have sex with you.
A little whistle provides the basis
For funny bulges in hi-larious places.
Joyful pink is always aces
For flashing schoolgirls with neon braces.
And if she offers some resistance,
She can blow your whistle for assistance.
June 15, 2011 at 4:46 am
English is not my first language, so in advance sorry for any mistakes.
The Lady of my heart
had brought to me this pack
and said: ‘just let me explain,
before you shout what the f**k!’
The cob is here for you
to make a bowl of popcorn
spread butter all over your chest
we’re going to shot some food porn.
The cork is a wine bottle stopper
but also can be a grat gag
and if you’re feeling quite frisky
we’ll use it as a butt plug.
The whistle can also be useful,
don’t put it away on a shelf
and if you ever feel lonely
you can just blow yourself.
The bandaid is for the bruises
and all your minor cuts,
but please be careful when tearing it off
if you have hairy nuts.
The tissue is quite obvious but
remember what I found out:
first blow your nose, then wipe your sperm
and not the other way round.
And then finally a zipper
why pink? You might want to ask
because your parents always wanted
for you to be a lass!
June 15, 2011 at 6:42 am
Dearest Father,
The time we had was joyous
So I got you these briefs
There’s a zipper for easy access,
I know how much you love being a priest
Remember that wonderful occasion
When you fell on that corn,
And it became lodged in your anus?
No? Well that must have been me, whose butthole was torn.
Enjoy these fun-tastic band-aids,
for I know how you love to party
at that Dominatrix club on 5th
and how you never are tardy.
Take this cork
and use it well
for we both know
That your son makes shit, on Etsy to sell
June 15, 2011 at 7:02 am
Ode to Gag Gift for a Man (otherwise known as Rhyme nor Reason, in which the ode is shorter than the title)
Hot
They’re not.
June 15, 2011 at 8:20 am
oh i LOVE ogden nash
June 15, 2011 at 7:50 am
Here is a gift
special for you
it’s whimsical fuckery
and steampunk too
the pink accents say you’re my bitch
the corn cob proves it
so bend over big guy
and alchemy your shit
you’ll be cute as a kitten
dressed in this fairy toolbelt
drop the zipper and make like a unicorn
mystical and heartfelt
So dance for your crafting queen
and never forget
that whimsical fuckery is
the only fuckery you’ll get
June 15, 2011 at 9:02 am
Ode To A Greasy Urine Holder:
I wandered lonely as a cloud
As lone upon my eighteenth year
But love has pitched his palace in the place of excrement
The dead bell the dead bell Somebody’s done for
When I consider how my life is spent
So much depends on a red wheelbarrow
In the forest of the night
Esso Esso Essssssssso
Two roads diverged in a wood and I
I’m nobody, who are you?
The pilgrim soul in you
The world will not end with a bang, but a whimper
June 15, 2011 at 9:05 am
(Keats, Wordsworth, Bronte, Yeats, Plath, Milton, Williams, Blake, Bishop, Frost, Dickinson, Yeats, Eliot.)
June 15, 2011 at 9:38 am
You’re always going on rants,
So I sewed some shit to your pants.
Don’t call me a witch-
Stop being a bitch!
Just be thankful I’m not making skants.
June 15, 2011 at 9:56 am
I was a child and VicSew was a child,
In this kingdom by the sea,
But we laughed til we cried and thought we would die,
Over whimsicle fuckery.
With crap that the winged seraphs of heaven,
Would take one look at and say, “enjoy hell, devil.”
June 15, 2011 at 10:56 am
ah annabelle lee
June 15, 2011 at 9:59 am
“WHY IS THERE A CORN COB TIED TO YOUR UNDERPANTS?”
Because sometimes toilet paper just can’t reach.
June 15, 2011 at 11:42 am
WHY IS THERE A CORN COB TIED TO YOUR UNDERPANTS
By KrazieKorie
I was shopping on Etsy and what did I see
But the perfect pair of underpants, just for me.
It was all that I needed and so much more,
I couldn’t buy it quick enough from VicSew’s store.
There was a zipper in front and a two pockets of pink,
And a whistle, band aid, cork and a corn cob, I think.
The corn cob was best part of this wonderful find,
How better to remove pooh stuck on my behind.
Toilet paper works good if that stuff is still mush,
But when it has dried, it become very stuck stuff.
With a tool like that, a few rubs will get me quite clean.
Then confidence is what I’ll have when I arrive on the scene.
No dingle berries, no hidden pieces of black gold.
My rump will be so clean and I’ll feel so very bold.
I’ll be free to dance and carry on like a fool.
All thanks to the addition of that wonderful tool.
June 15, 2011 at 12:02 pm
Who says you guys are talentless losers?
I think as a bonus the winner should receive said poem stitched on a sampler.
June 15, 2011 at 12:13 pm
My metrosexual underpants.
On lazy days, the pink zipper helps me to pee
The corncob’s for when I’m out of TP.
Bandaids for the corncob wounds to my ass,
And pink polkadot pockets just give it some class.
Should I be concerned about my last ass missile
I’ve always got my emergency whistle.
Pink ribbons can hold more stuff for my bum.
So I’ll be prepared for whatever might come.
June 15, 2011 at 1:30 pm
If you’re out alone and you’re scared
Just reminder that down there
you’re equipped and prepared
If someone is chasing you down the street
Just pause your tired feet
And give your whistle a loud tweet
If no one hears your cries
just reach down to your thighs
and zip up your man-surprise
After all is said and done
If you still haven’t won
You’ve got a bandaid to put on
‘cuz HAAAANNNNNEEES is your motto
be prepared, at full throttle
yes HAAAAAAAAAAAAANNNNNNNNEEEEEEES will keep you safe
And with with our enhanced features STILL won’t chafe.
Choose Hanes, maybe even save your life.
June 15, 2011 at 1:31 pm
The Wasteband (continued)
What are the pink zippers that clutch, what whistles blow
Out of this Hanes rubbish? Son of Photoshop Jesus
You cannot say, or, guess, for you know only
A heap of derp where the Goatse smells
And the corncob gives no shelter, the bandaid no relief
And the porcelain vaginas no sound of water. Only
There is old menstrual blood under this red rock
(Come in under the shadow of this reusable Vampire vag-pad),
And you can View It In A Room a cutout ginger cat different from either
Your ginger cat at morning striding behind you
Or your ginger cat at evening rising to meet you;
I will show you fear in a handful of pixie dust.
June 15, 2011 at 1:44 pm
O thoughtful is He
who designs underpants accessories.
Is my whistle wet?
It will be.
It wasn’t hip when You who forgot to tell me that the trick to a quick zip is tighten your grip and don’t snag the tip.
But when I do…
You’ve given me a bandage for that.
Why is there a corncob tied to my underpants?
I’ll never tell.
June 15, 2011 at 1:44 pm
My wife asked me to post her poem ‘cuz she can’t do it from her state job. The tyrants limit internet access. I imagine they think people will waste time surfing…can you believe it?
Here it is, I take no credit:
Is your life so darn hard you must settle for this
A peculiar concock-tion that Vic calls a gift
With zipper and bandaid – it all seems so wrong
What next? A drumstick for banging your dong?
I must pass on this gift of a seat cover fright
And hope that I win Helen’s box of delight
June 15, 2011 at 1:56 pm
Your dong has become all sad and dangly.
In pubes are a dark gloomy grey
You can shelter your knackers
In patched-pink under crackers
Happy fuckety fathering day
Though your whistle is blown only rarely
And your corn cob remaineth* unshucked
The cork in your ass
Will add great gravitas
Happy dad’s day you fucking old fuck.
A tissue to dry up your sad single tear
As you pump, lonely, in your clenched fist
Mind you don’t catch your clipper
With the featured pink zipper
It’s father’s day. Smile, you tit.
*as the great Molesworth would say: “peotry”
June 15, 2011 at 3:07 pm
‘gag gift’
never have two words meant so much,
or so little.
June 15, 2011 at 3:22 pm
A piece of underwear, zipper, whistle, band aid, tissue, corn cob, and cork…
When I think of such a combination I feel like a dork…
Who’s only wish is to learn to use a knife and fork…
to cut open the belly of the stork…
who delivered me to create such a folly!
June 15, 2011 at 4:19 pm
Roses are red
Violets can’t dance
WHY IS THERE A CORNCOB TIED TO YOUR UNDERPANTS?!?
Best I could do on 1/2 a bottle of chianti and a teaspoon of cough syrup.
June 15, 2011 at 5:50 pm
The zipper’s sew in
the most alluring place
And it let’s you know where he
would like your face.
The whistle is there
so after he finds his tape
It’s located conveniently
to help you call “rape!”
The corn cob gets put
in his back door
Keeping it in
is what the cork is for
The tissue and band-aid
are for when it’s all done
Then he’ll yell to his wife
“Git over here now, it’s yer turn for fun!”
June 15, 2011 at 6:18 pm
The Wasteband, Part One
April (yeah her) is the cruelest butthurt, breeding
Men’s seat covers out of the Dead Things, mixing whimsicle fuckery, stirring
tissue and cork with Bajingo Juice.
Winter skants kept us warm, covering
Earth in forgetful gloves that
Are just fingers.
Summer idealized us, coming over the Glockcock
With a shower of sperm bullets, we stopped at the Urinal Dress
And drank fake juice for reborn baby dolls
“Ich bin kein Russe, sondern ein fettes deutschen Frau, die Deckchen macht aus kaute Kaugummi.”
And when we were hippies eating kale and not shaving our armpits at the arch-duke’s,
my cousin’s, he took me out on a facebook cushion
And I was steampunked.
He said Martha Stewart, Martha, hold on tight. And to jail we went
In the fae dwellings where you find sticks
I surf the web most nights, drinking Pinot Grigio and knit Mittens with a bear in winter
June 15, 2011 at 9:17 pm
roses are red
and whimsicle when plastic
this ‘gag gift’ is a MUST
because its fun_tastic
June 15, 2011 at 10:32 pm
To everyone who wanted to buy a zany gift for your Dad this Father’s Day:
A surprise I have for father’s day
For the man who nurtured me.
One crafted with love and whimsy
And no concept of hilarity
Sense does not make the present
For in my case the thought does sorely count.
So bare these proudly my barer,
To cover your manly mount.
Thru cobs, and zippers, and band-aids,
one thought in your mind is stuck.
For the man who cared to raise me,
I mustn’t give a flying fuck.
June 16, 2011 at 9:11 am
Pink Polka Dots.
Zippers leading nowhere.
Hey, is that a corn cob in your underpants?
Or do you just need a band-aid? Gatorade?
No, I only have this whistle.
Wait. My sides are splitting.
June 16, 2011 at 11:28 am
Corncob on the ass, alas.
June 16, 2011 at 9:18 pm
These undies I find pretty slick
I’d wear ‘em if I were a chick
I’m not sure of the tissue
Though here lies the issue:
the zipper gets caught on my dick.
But fourteen ninety-nine I have paid
and a kind soul on Etsy has made
I’m still not sure why
I’m an outgoing guy
but now I can’t seem to get laid.
June 16, 2011 at 10:15 pm
A Cute Little Poem
I told my man he was a dad
because we owned three cats,
he said, “I am not a dad
and that is that!”
But Binkles brought him
a dead mouse
and Krinkles peed
in the house
and Fluffy-Ballsack
my favorite cat
brought him a signed
baseball bat–
how we do not know
but cat’s got connections
though.
But I was left with just one thing
to give my man today
this underwear was made
for a man twice as gay
The fact that he loved them
might have made me cry
if I wasn’t into guy-on-guy.
June 20, 2011 at 1:56 am
My true love waits in a dim lit room,
Gripping his corncob,
As it bulges through the zipper on his handcrafted fruit of the looms.
Seeing me pretend not to notice as I walk past,
He tempts me with whimsicle fuckery,
And slips the whistle in his butthurt ass.
Overcome with passion in the hall my knees shook
I herpderped in my cork embroidered skants
as he beckoned me in for a closer look.
Wielding a human hair butt plug I plundered him from above,
My lover munched my kale,
As my hands trembled in my fingerless potholder gloves.
In post-coital bliss, from his pink undie pocket
My lovah drew a tisssue
And wiped the pearl necklace away from my steampunk locket.
June 24, 2011 at 3:33 pm
A Gag-Gift’s Explanatory Poem:
Just WHISTLE for me and I’ll drop that ZIPPER in a hurry,
And if your knickers nick you: here’s a BANDAID—so do’t worry.
Before we start, use this organic CORNCOB toilet paper,
And forget expensive butt-plugs, an old CORK has the same taper.
Augmented UNDERWEAR! A perfect aphrodisiac,
Now put on your whistling HANES, my dear, and meet me in the sack.