Daily Limerick Archives: November 1999
Contains Mature (and immature) Content;If You’re a Minor, Go Away!
NOTE: DL has not yet taken the time to put "anchors" into the archives. Translation: You're gonna have to scroll all the way through the long-ass documents (use your "find" commands, squatlicks)!
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Whatever the case, don’t worry—I am not selling anything. As limericks tend to be a little off-color, and considering that I’m certainly not looking for an extra helping of trouble, you MUST REPLY TO THIS E-MAIL AND REQUEST TO BE PUT ON THE LIST if you want to be a Daily Limerick “subscriber”! Again, below is a RANDY LIMERICK! Close and delete this message if that’s not up your alley! (If you have been e-mailed at your work address, and would rather receive this at home, please reply and say so!)
There once was a nerd-boy named Shag
whom many surmised as a fag.
Yet that was untrue—
though his women were few
he would picture them while he would jag.
I once knew a butcher, a klutz
who “oops”-ed one day, slicing cold cuts.
Don’t buy his salami
or his fresh pastrami
or you’ll end up sampling his nuts.
Is it in the heart or the eyes?
The place where your true beauty lies?
To find it in haste
glance below your waist
it’s there right between your two thighs.
One day when I had diarrhea
a dug a big whole by our tree-a
to poop out a heap
but it was so deep
that I took a shit in Korea.
If you’re a horned-up commie pinko
a hoping to brandish your dink-o
to a dame on your list—
your best bet’s to first get her stinko.
A rose’s thorns can be quite thorny
and flowers can be awfully corny
but chicks find them nice
and they’re worth the price
because they can make women horny.
I called a number I was told
would give me phone sex hot and bold.
Was hard in a jiffy
but soon lost my stiffy
the music was so bad on hold.
One the way to a menage a trois
I picked up some sex toys, oo-la-la!
Me and two girls had kicks—
and I enjoyed their tricks—
’til they found room for the third ben-wa.
I once found a leech in my hair
(of the public kind—life is unfair).
So I set it aflame
but then Triple A came
for they thought I had torch up a flare.
I once knew a fellow named Matt
who only liked chicks who were fat.
He got “lucky” one day
and found joy plus dismay
for he looked rather happy—yet flat.
A young mother and wild masturbator
had a son who put wires in a tater
for a science fair at large
causing electric charge
but his mom stole it for a vibrator.
There once was a lady named Betty
who went into work in a Teddy.
If you’re wondering why
work morale wasn’t high:
Betty looks a bit like Estelle Getty.
While crusin the seas in a sub
I found myself sportin’ a chub
threw it in my first mate—
she’s a dame who’s first rate—
and I guess I joined the Mile LOW Club.
There once was a virgin named Babs
who’d order her dildos from labs.
One was used—by a sleaze
in the lab with disease—
you could say Babs caught the hermit’s crabs.
There was a young nympho named Dot
who came ’cross a man in a cot—
rubbed his groin nice ’n’ flirty
’til his dreams turned quite dirty
then she straddled the man and did squats.
There was a young fellow named Clive
who tried to mount his new Zip drive—
it’s too bad ’twas too small
for he lost half a ball
after mounting a tight-fit bee hive.
There once was this lady named Flo
who swallowed a tank labeled “O.”
’Though her looks weren’t so hot
over her, the men fought
for she gave the most fabulous blow.
A young lass made love like a train
with an appetite that would not wane—
once she’d let you tear loose
and go at her caboose
you’d at some point derail in great pain.
There was a young girl from Toluca
who, during sex, puffed on a hooka.
One day smoke came puffin’
right out of her muffin!
Makes sense, I guess, sure was no fluke-a.
There was a young fellow from Prague
who’s pants sure did house quite a log!
There’s a story that’s told
how his cock knocked him cold
when he free-balled one day for a jog.
There was a young fellow named Dirt
who was horny, a near-constant flirt.
Then his boss’s slut daughter
who was named simply “Water”
took his bait—they made Mud ’til it hurt!
There once was a man from Mynmar
who’s penis looked like a cigar.
After much rum and coke
he lit up, for a joke
but his girl didn’t mind—’twas low lar.
There once was a chick on the run
whose buttocks were shaped like a bun
and a man, with a log
made his schlong like hot dog
—topped it all off with his mustard gun.
There once was a lady named Char
(on first dates she’d go rather far).
She did hump and howl
first time with “White Owl”
and then learned he was a cigar!
Sure horned-up Uncle Ted is quite jerky
but today we all have off of work-y.
So we’ll hope and we’ll pray
on this Thanksgiving Day
Uncle Ted doesn’t mount our poor turkey!
There once was a fellow named Floyd
who liked sex in the OTHER void.
When he’d start to get nude
and his wife lacked the mood
she’d say, “Not tonight—I’ve a hemorrhoid.
There was a pervert from Gurnee
who’d taken women over his knee
and ask, “Who’s your daddy?”
until he met Patty
who left, so his daddy was he.
There once was a man named Jose
who had a schlong made of clay.
Hung with Mr. Bill
a lot, well, until
Sluggo slapped his Johnson away.
There once was a horny young commie
whose girlfriend enjoyed hot pastrami.
Before him, she was chaste
now he’s altered her taste
and today she prefers a salami.
Now Batman one day, craving hole,
met Batgirl and he did cajole
her into his bed
by shouting, face red,
“Quickly, Batgirl, down the Bat Pole!”
WIN RIDICULOUSLY LAVISH PRIZES BY RECRUITING NEW DAILY LIMERICK SUBSCRIBERS! Due to demand (that is, NOBODY, NOBODY AT ALL has succesfully taken advantage of the offer), we’re continuing our membership drive into the month of November! (Until it becomes too difficult for me to fulfill—act now!)
THE OFFER: Recruit a subscriber—that is, have THEM e-mail ME and indicate that YOU referred them—and you get your own limerick from the Daily Limerick! Just give Daily Limerick the name, subject, etc. you want the limerick about—within reason—and you’ll be the laughing stock of all your friends!
The Daily Limerick was born in a mad poetric scientist’s laboratory as a way of trumpeting the All Limerick Poetry Slam at the 10th Anniversary National Poetry Slam festivities in Chicago, 1999! As host—and accidental champion—I was so appalled at the frightened screams of innocent passersby that I decided to continue the e-mail service for at least a year! It puts ridiculous constraints on my free time—and thus I don’t guarantee GOOD limericks, only DAILY limericks—but as long as the list keeps plumpin’, I’m a-gonna keep on pumpin’ (the limericks out, that is!).
©1999 John Henry Biederman. All Rights Reserved.
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(c)1999-2013 John "Sloop" Biederman. All Rights Reserved.