Friday, August 13, 2010


i have a laptop on my laptop.
don't ask me if i want a lap dance baby,
'cause i'm surfing the world wide web.
she walks away, giving me a look of disgust...
as she looks for more laps to bump-and-grind.
i lap up my beer and dream of lapland.
those finns really know how to live.
they drink vodka and have reindeer.
i wonder if santa claus ever had a lap dance?
i don't think so...
he must have exceptional moral fiber,
to do his job...
maybe mrs. claus sits in his lap.
i know children do.
i hope santa isn't a pervert.
i betcha' santa has a laptop and a gps,
to collect information,
and to find his way around this shrinking world.
maybe i should purhase a lap dog,
instead of frequenting tittie bars.
a lap dog might keep me warm,
and show me affection.
i will save money because:
i won't have to search for...
mascara-wearing droids, to give me half-hearted,
lapdances anymore.
as i lap up the rest of my beer,
i smile at the barmaid,
who has been waiting on me.
i leave a crumpled dollar on my table.
she gives me a look of disdain...
as i approach the exit.
she puts the dirty dollar in an apron,
which adorns her lap.
as i get into my car to head home,
i notice my lap is getting a little paunchy.
i've been drinking too much beer, i guess.
once i buy my lap dog,
i'll take him for walks in the park.
the exercise will do us both a lot of good.
i might even start running a few laps...
around the quarter-mile track that's near my house.
once i get in shape,
i'll get a smile from the girls who give me...
a lapdance.
a man has to have a plan!