Just Four Friggin' Lines is a daily, weekly, completely random series for people who have the attention span of a goldfish with Alzheimer's. People who have to cram their verse in between tweezing and waxing. Or mowing, as the case may be. There's no judgment here; after all, it's Just Four Friggin' Lines. You, your monobrow,… Continue reading Just Four Friggin’ Lines #8
Just Four Friggin' Lines is a poetry series by Miss Snarky Pants devoted to people who prefer to read Donald Trump's speech - announcing his run for the presidency - on the toilet. Now before you say, Hey, wait a minute! That's not Just Four Friggin' Lines, please note that I never indicated how long the lines… Continue reading Just Four Friggin’ Lines #6 – The Trump Edition
Just Four Friggin' Lines is a poetry series for people who insist on listening with their eyes. And in honor of those who scribble verses like sleezy phone numbers on their palms and wrists, I bleed Just Four Friggin' Lines of ink. Are you hemorrhaging words? Share your four lines in the Comments below and stop… Continue reading Just Four Friggin’ Lines #5
Just Four Friggin' Lines is a new poetry series by Miss Snarky Pants - okay, it's the only poetry series, unless you count my Big Bang Theory Haiku - written especially for people who like their poetry the way they like their flu shots: fast and painless. This might not be Shakespeare, but it's Just Four Friggin' Lines.
This is the third installment of Miss Snarky Pants' random poetry series, Just Four Friggin' Lines, written especially for you who get your poetry thang on while waiting at traffic lights. Read, enjoy, follow, share and contribute in the Comments Section below - particularly if you have a four-liner you'd like to pass along. After all,… Continue reading Just Four Friggin’ Lines #3
I enjoy reading The Huffington Post. It delivers my news in the crunchy-granola, tree-hugging, Obama-loving, non-homophobic, NPR-listening, organically-grown, Jon Stewart-worshiping, ballet-flat wearing format that makes me feel happy, informed and secure. If The Huff Post editors eat meat, I'm sure they feel guilty about it later. For years now, reading my news online delivered me from the hell… Continue reading Headlines From The Fluffington Post
I'm a terrible person. If Jennifer Aniston had married me (which would have been creepy because she doesn't have a penis), when we finally divorced and I posed for photos with Angelina Jolie (not nearly as creepy because I'm pretty sure she does have a penis), she would have told the press in that whiny… Continue reading Award Posts Make Me Want To Become A Ward Of The State Penitentiary