Monday, July 16, 2007

Summer Vacation Poetry Competition

Come along and enter Infomaniac’s first ever Poetry Competition.

You’re eligible for fabulous prizes!

The Details: Compose a poem about what you think I did on my summer vacation and type it into the comments section. As none of you (well, maybe one of you) knows for sure how I spent my summer vacation, the prize will not be awarded for accuracy but rather for imagination and creativity. Enter as often as you wish!

Deadline: Wednesday, July 18, 2007. Midnight PST. (For you lot in the UK, that’s 8:00 a.m. Thursday, July 19. The rest of you in other time zones, figure it out for yourselves.)

Winners Announced: Thursday, July 19, 2007 at whatever time I’m good and ready.

Judge: MJ.

And now…the moment you’ve all been waiting for…


First Prize:

The best poem wins a little brown book entitled, “What’s Your Poo Telling You?”

With universal appeal (everyone poops, after all), this witty, illustrated description of over two dozen dookies (each with a medical explanation written by a doctor) details what one can learn about health and well-being by studying what's in the bowl. A floater? It's probably due to a buildup of gas. Now think back on last night's dinner, a burrito perhaps? . . .All the greatest hits are here: The Log Jam, The Glass Shard, The Deja Poo, The Hanging Chad . . . the list goes on. Sidebars, trivia, over 60 euphemisms for number 2, and unusual case histories all make this the ultimate bathroom reader. Who knew you could learn so much from your poo?

Second Prize:

Our runner-up wins a packet of HandzOff Anti-Masturbatory Gum.

We know Natures urges can arise at the most inappropriate times. Thats where Handzoff Anti-Masturbatory Gum comes in handy. When you've got the fire down below and you must say no – chew HandzOff instead!

Instant relief lasting up to 6 hours!

Let’s face it though. One packet is not enough for the likes of you wankers.

But wait! That’s not all!

The runner-up also receives a “Wash Away Your Sins Towelette.”

Right your wrongs with a wipe! Save yourself! Save others! Handy towelette with a light Easter lily scent and antibacterial action. Effective in cars, confessionals and motels. Perfect for the sinner on the go!

What are you waiting for? Get writing, bitches!


  1. Yay! First!

    * rushes off to compose pooem *

  2. From cocktails to cock
    MJ just can’t stop
    Ho'ing up the pub
    When she is in Dub-

  3. I ALREADY HAVE the poo book. It was given to me in a swag bag I received from a swanky charity gala thing. The charity was colon cancer screening. I keep the poo book in the bathroom with the magazines.

  4. Said MJ ‘I have a love of the Grays’,
    So she went to Roswell, New Mexico,
    Where a big spaceship whisked her away
    For a whistle stop tour of the Milky Way.

    Past Saturn and Pluto she whizzed,
    and gave a cheery wave to the Mekons
    And Plutons and three headed Zukons,
    Whose hair was frizzy and all of a tizzy.

    Will that do?

  5. IVD: How long does it take you to write a pooem?

    Are you composing the Canturbury Tales or wot?

    *checks watch*

    CYBERPETE: Yay for the first pooem.

    Unlike IVD, you don't require a day and a half to come up with something.

    GoBETTY: Well since you're the expert, what is YOUR poo telling you?

    GARFY: It pleases me to see that the Irish poetic tradition lives on in the gifted Garfer.

    The spirit of the seanchai is alive.

  6. EmJay spent her holiday
    Giving beejay to a deejay.

    And Cee when she was free
    was always seen on her knees.

    Info' was a nympho
    she's the bimbo in the window.

    While Kapi was the daddy
    getting wackey, catty and happy...
    with an Iraqi.


  7. Around the world in 80 days?
    No, MJ did it in a daze.
    Wrecked e'en more than New Year's Eve,
    Pissed away her annual leave.

    The seven wonders of the world?
    The contents of her stomach hurled!
    O'er the ol' Grand Canyon's edge
    And from the Eiffel Tower's ledge.

    Pissed in London, Dublin, Nice,
    At least we got some fucking peace!
    No Infomaniac for weeks,
    No cunts or cocks or spread arse cheeks.

    As much a holiday for us,
    But now we're s'posed to make a fuss!
    "We're glad you're back here on the scene,
    Our fragrant, wondrous Canuck Queen."

  8. 'Canturbury'???

    Fucking mong.

  9. MJ went on holiday.
    What did she do?
    I don't give a shit.
    Can't be bothered even to make a rhyme.

  10. KAPI: *trods on himbo Kapi’s tiny todger*

    GEOFF: You want that poo book badly, don’t you?

    PIGGY: CUNTerbury, in your case.

    VICUS: “So farewell then” to Vicus, whose dickus ist nicht so biggus.

  11. Honestly, some of us have other things to do, you know...


    Our not-quite-a-lady MJ
    travelled abroad, a long way
    oversea to the emerald isle
    where the people did not smile.

    MJ asked them "Why so glum?
    Got potatoes stuck up your bum?"
    A nose-holding local shook her head "No, But
    you could attempt to keep your legs shut!"

    The eye-watering smell was strong.
    Far more of a stench than a pong.
    "Go back from whence you came, Canuck,
    And take that smell, now off you fuck!"

    Will that do? I'm working on a second pooem - It needs refining, though...

  12. IVD: What the hell were doing all that time? Dusting your broom?

    Keep my legs shut? Oh that's rich coming from the likes of you! You've got a turnstile attached to your lap and the lucky millionth customer has just clicked through. They're queuing up round the block as we speak.

    Working on a second pooem? Needs refining? Yes, you do!

  13. There was a young man from Wigan
    He had a surplus of jizm
    He got on a bus
    And bought a return ticket.....

    I like wine

  14. EDDIE: Bring that bottle over here.

    This young man from Wigan...anyone we know?

  15. MJ went off to the sun.
    la de da something about up the bum.
    She met with a tranny that looked like her granny.
    and came home and didn't post about it gi-janny.

    Now where the fuck is my prize?

  16. Knudsen - Now where the fuck is my prize?

    Apparently we are in a tie for the anti wanking gum. Wrestle ya for it

  17. KNUDSEN and EDDIE: Right.

    Clothes off. NOW!

  18. Old Knudsen he needed a shat, so he sat doon and took off his hat.
    He unleashed his hell it was a terrible smell and Eddie said, "that make me so horny long time."

    Where the fuck is my naked wrestling?

  19. I have a confession to make, "I am Eddie Waring!"

  20. I'm also Tickersoid but I'd rather you kept that one quiet.

  21. I'm also Inexpicable ah fuck it, I can't even say it never mind spell it.

  22. KNUDSEN: You're not Eddie Waring. His arse is much hairier than yours.

    I am First Nations. That slag tried to make lick the salsa off her tits. I can say what I like about her.

  23. KNUDSEN: No wait! FN tried to make me lick the salsa off her tits. That's what I'm trying to say. You confused me when you put on your sumo wrestling garb.

  24. Knudsen - I have a confession to make, "I am Eddie Waring!"

    Like fuck you are. I have been telling people that I am you. Maybe it's the wine, or maybe I am just tired but this is all getting a bit confusing now.

    If I am you and you are me then who the fuck is Captain Smack?

  25. KNUDSEN and EDDIE: I don't care if you're Siamese twins!

    Just take your clothes off!

  26. EDDIE: Hat? Is that code for a "french letter?"

    I'm keeping the gum for myself.

  27. Those cunts Knudsen and Waring have finally gone off to bed. Together most likely as the wrestling match was getting a little heated if you know what I mean.

    Let's get back to rhyming, shall we?

    I'll get a new pack of gum for the runner up as I've chewed it all up.

  28. * click click *

    * click click *

    One at a time. One at a time! No pushing!

    * click click *

    OK you two can go together...

    * click click *

    I think I can take my attention of that lot for a while, so:

    When MJ was on her holiday
    She did things that she will not say
    To a man, striped of shirt
    Who knew not what lurked beneath her skirt.

    He plied her all one night with drink
    Unaware she can hold more than a sink!
    She drank him under the table quick
    Where, upon her shoes he was violently sick.

    This is where my tale shall end
    Unless one hundred pounds you send

    To IDV.

    * click CLONK *

    Bugger. It's broken. And the queue's backed up something chronic.
    This is the last time a agree to a 'Have you picture taken with a dragon' event on my patio.

    What? You didn't honestly believe I had a turnstile entrance to my undercarriage, did you?!

    * click click *


  29. A poem for a poo

    To England and France
    Our MJ did prance
    Then Dublin she went
    to meet a fine gent

    An ale she did drink
    as she searched for the link
    But all that she found
    was a dirty brown mound

    A book about poo
    to put in our loo
    or a towel to cleanse
    as we beg for amends

    Around the world in 23 days
    MJ was in and out of the maze
    Instead of a broom she used a hoover
    And eventually ended back in Vancouver

    Best I could do at 5am?

  30. A haggard old cunt, called MJ,
    She travelled to lands far away.
    In search of the ultimate cock,
    Day, after day, after day.

    To Dublin. To Roswell. To 7-11.
    To find what would take her to pleasurable heaven.
    She found nothing, of course,
    Although she does sound a bit hoarse.

    With 'C' the sunkissed tranny,
    In tow to mop up the muck,
    The punters complained it was jammy,
    To which MJ replied 'Oh fuck!'.

    She's back now, to everyones dismay,
    With nothing to show but stretched chops.
    We did try to tell her before embarking,
    'The foreigners will say you're a crap lay'.

    A ruse to enable her to post less,
    'The readers will carry this hostess'
    Rhyming tales full of woe and humour,
    Continuing the wild, speculative rumours.


    Fucking poetry. What kind of shite is this? Why am I participating in this nonsense?

  31. IVD: Was that Tazzy and Piggy you were accepting two at a time?

    So it wasn’t enough that you won the Freakin’ Green Elf Shorts? Now you must have the poo book as well? You greedy little poof.

    PISSOFF: Finally. A Canuck enters the compo. If you win I won’t have to spend as much on postage.

    PIGGY: I don’t know why you’d want the poo book as you could have co-authored it yourself.

    Aren’t you the inventor of the Bristol Stool Scale? There was a period of time when we all knew the state of your stool from one day to the next.

    Oh, the good old days.

  32. An ode to a traveller

    As MJ & C toured 'round the
    An epic yarn of smut
    In Vegas they fed mammoth
    Of dimes and dollars to hungry
    Then through a canyon so large, so
    They skipped and frolicked hand in
    To Jamaica, Barbados as warm sunlight
    Down snorkelling backs to starfishes
    Mexico next to sample
    While old men in sombreros paid 5 bucks to
    feel her
    Back over the border and to the deep
    Awaiting was waiting to put six toes in her
    Toejobs and blowjobs in the US all
    They jetted to Europe, said so long to the
    In Dublin they landed, ignored Tazpig and
    Got pissed on cheap Guinness, those ignorant
    Over to London they sat on Big
    And waited, no knickers, for it to strike
    Swam in the Thames, naked, for a
    Came out all covered in bogroll and
    On to cold Sweden, groomed their pubic
    To improve the taste for all those
    Down to Amsterdam the filthy old
    Candlewax on the nipples, candlesticks up their
    Overused and abused, ignored me, ignored
    They went home again, home again for a slow comfortable

  33. I'd have needed a bigger CLONK if those two tried to squeeze in together.

    And I'm more interested in the towelettes. They'll come in handy should I ever be invited on a day trip to Heaven...

  34. Oh Captain! My Captain! MJ's fearful trip is done.
    She went down to Las Vegas, Nevada Two hundred bucks was won.
    "Hot Damn!" she cried, "I'll get a man, I'm off to the bordello.
    Hey Heidi Fleiss, I've got the price for a nice, big, studly fellow!"
    But oh his heart, his fragile heart!
    Once MJ's legs were spread
    the stud turned green, let out a scream,
    and fell there, cold and dead.

  35. MJ went on holiday
    Now she's back

  36. Short, and to the point, Connie.

    Now impale her on it. Hurry!

  37. STEVEY: Holy William Wordsworth! It’s smoldering!

    I’ve had to use the towelette to mop up.

    IVD: You’re too late for the towelette.

    See comment to Smunty Boy, above.

    PRU: What kind of girl do you think I am?

    CONNIE: For a first timer

    You’re a good rhymer.

    IVD: Do you want a chance at winning?

    Or not?

    Because I'm losing patience with you.

  38. My humbled offering:


    2007, A summer vacation.

    Travel with MJ, who loves domination.

    Along with her Tranny, yes "C" with the legs,

    And drink from high heels, their batter and dregs.


    A crack of her whip, and your hols would begin,

    Your clothes would be torn, as you fall into sin.

    Your gimp mask unpacked,a ball for yer mouth,

    Great North is too cold, I think they went South.


    Imagine the frights,imagine the stares,

    Of MJ and friend, as they showed off their wares.

    Croc shoes, unashamed, and lots of vibrators,

    Yes, it was South, but North of Equator.


    Now C, it appears, is ever so shy,

    With MJ as an escort, I never know why.

    Maybe she knows, what we all really fear,

    That her urine is used, for Canadian Beer.


    No, Jameson's the drink that gets her real pissed,

    And gets her all moist, like a Vancouver mist.

    No rain in this place, just hot and all Red,

    Which sounds like a night, with MJ in the bed.


    Her holiday break, no it wasn't a trek,

    I mean, how can you walk,with such a long neck?

    I guess it involved, just some lying in bars,

    And whoring about, in some fancy old cars.


    But now she is back,never spending the punts,

    Expecting a poem,from all of us cunts,

    So where is my prize, you filthy old lay?

    Or shall I fuck off, while you just moan... "EH?"

  39. SID:

    And so here he is
    SID, the Bard of the Bann
    Hands like a girl
    Yet the bald patch of a man

    His pooem is brill
    For his talent, others would kill
    The poo book would have been his, by heck
    Had he not mentioned my neck.

    Now bugger off and bring me my Jamesons.

  40. its not very good,i was sober when i wrote it........
    'once was a young lady called Infomaniac
    who would never travel down a cul-de-sac
    she got on a plane
    and didnt go to Spain
    and now she's returned a nymphomaniac

  41. OK, I'll try and be good. You'll notice that I didn't say anything horrid in the second from last comment - I was getting withdrawal symptoms by the time I left the last one...

  42. I went to bed and wrestled myself.

  43. TONY: Bonus points for rhyming Infomaniac and nymphomaniac.

    You can get high now.

    SID: I'll bugger you all right.

    IVD: You were talking about your big clonk.

    KNUDSEN: I went to bed and wet myself.

  44. you are NOT me. you may want to BE me, but then who doesn't?

    Mj went to paris france
    bought a baguette for her pants
    spread some garlic on her flaps
    slapped a french cop with her baps
    they kicked her out, she left that day
    sunning on the beach, UK,
    a car drove up her nether way
    I"m not the chunnel! she did shout
    as a loaded truck drove out
    'C' thought it best to take her west
    to show her mate off at her best
    but ireland proved our mj's match
    she WOULD keep saying 'down the hatch!'
    passed out cold from all the liquors
    she'd forgot to wear her knickers
    swilling cocktails in a pub
    all the paddy's saw her nub.

  45. Did I say I was you? I meant Maidy. I'm really Maidy. But without the stretch marks.

    Would you like to dip your clam in my garlic spread?

  46. Oh, that comment was meant for FN.

    Not the rest of you.

  47. MJ went away to sea,
    In search of the testicles three,
    They lived in a cave by the briny bay,
    And dreamed of the perfect BJ.

    That's enough poetry. My muse is exhausted

  48. GARFY:

    Is your muse
    Taking a snooze?
    More pooems please
    Or I'll hit the booze.

  49. Bugger off you dozy Canuck,
    Of this dopey drivel I've had enough,
    You see I dinnae give a fuck,
    If you don't like it that's just tough.

  50. Tell us the winner,
    You dirty old sinner,
    Your fetish for verse,
    Is worse than the Curse.

  51. GARFY & SID:

    Filthy dirty Irish fucks
    Both of you
    Your poetry sucks

    Neither one of you are winners
    Now off my blog
    Filthy Fenian sinners

  52. Oh praise the Lord, I haven't won
    Though the compo, has been fun
    Shove your prizes,you know where.
    And club your seal, with Canadian flair.

  53. SID:

    I'll take that club
    Not to a seal
    I'll bash it o'er
    Your trouser eel.

  54. I kinda like the poetic banter 'tween SID and MJ best.

    And no, I'm not writing a poem about your hols.

  55. My eel is far too long to hold,
    As you go clubbing in the cold.
    Maidy's right, she shouldn't prose,
    I'd rather see her thump your nose.

  56. MAIDY: No pooem?

    Having a baby has turned you into a lazy cunt.

    I’ll whip you into shape soon enough.


    Your eel has shrunken in the freeze
    Your tiny tent peg doth displease
    Soon so soon you’ll have a chance
    To watch me and Maidy do our dance.

  57. the clam is shouting 'no no no!
    don't let me near that cheezer ho!'
    and like the good muk that i am
    i always obey the clam.

    my tits say 'hi!'

  58. FN:

    No jousting for your yummy clam?
    Then how about a strip-o-gram?
    Raise your blouse above your pits
    Show us all your big ole tits!

  59. I am enjoying a brief respite from all of this tomfoolery and most certainly would not risk altering all of my positive vibes with some dirty poem..

    Mj went back to Kentuck,
    and pushed her luck,
    drivin' all the way in her three wheel truck.

    First stop Appalachians,
    to meet Irish relations,
    all inbred drunken crackers for over twenty generations.

    Commenced a'kissin cousins,
    Old ones, young'ens,
    got hitched to one with a
    purty nubbin.

    so no more bloggin,
    she's busy snoggin,
    in the hogswaller a'hootin and a'hollerin

    goodbye Morma Jean,
    what fun it's been,
    how soo-weeet it is to swaller yer cousin's genes!

  60. HE: Leave my kinfolk out of it.