When this girl at the museum asked me who I liked better, Monet or Manet, I said, 'I like mayonnaise.' She just stared at me, so I said it again, louder. Then she left. I guess she went to try to find some mayonnaise for me.
Jack Handey in Deep Thoughts
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Related quotes
One of my favorite things is mayonnaise and I have to tell you that. I love mayonnaise, but I don't eat it any more. If I do I put light mayonnaise on it, which I know is still not good but it's a lot better than the other one and I don't eat it that much.
quote by Mike Ditka
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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That Sandwich
as you take that sandwich
i remember 1971
the ham, and mayonnaise
the purple sliced onions
and cucumber
that you slip between
a big sandwich which you
say is too delicious
that is not how i saw it in the 70's
you were too young then
to know the connotation of the word
or the metaphor of being sandwiched
between two warring forces
who wanted to win by killing each other
they were all civilians mind you
sandwiched between the armed and dangerous government
and the armed and more dangerous rebels
the ham, and mayonnaise
the purple sliced onions
and cucumber
that you slip between
a big sandwich which you
say is too delicious
in the 70's they were not delicious at all
they were maimed, and bloody, killed on the streets
and public plazas bombed and brains scattered
on the hot cemented pavements
people kept in hog wires and secret
detention places
brothers all but so insensitive to the
the roots of humanity
Cains and Abels
the ham, and mayonnaise
the purple sliced onions
and cucumber
that you slip between
a big sandwich which you
say is too delicious
when all i need is simply a bitter tasting coffee
without the sugar and cream
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
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Gentiles are people who eat mayonnaise for no reason.
quote by Robin Williams
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Emma Squeekmire
A childhood friend named Emma Squeekmire
Was a mean little girl who liked playing with fire
One day Emma set our Grade School ablaze
With gasoline, a match and a jar of mayonnaise
It was clear her brain had gone severely haywire
(ROTMS)
poem by Ray Lucero
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Love is like mayonnaise: when cut, should be thrown away and start a new one.
quote by Enrique Jardiel Poncela
Submitted by Dan Costinaş
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Europe's the mayonnaise, but America supplies the good old lobster.
quote by David Herbert Lawrence
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Mayonnaise: One of the sauces which serve the French in place of a state religion.
quote by Ambrose Bierce
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Eating Sandwich
she handed me
a sandwich
with tomato
and mayonnaise
filling
she sits beside me
we have hot coffee
and a view of the
sea
a fading sun
some seagulls
homing
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
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Something Wonderful
picking
strawberries from
the garden
choosing the
plump ones
dipping each
on mayonnaise
letting each
stay inside your mouth
sometime
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
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Midnight.....
somewhere
between two half slices
of a bread
a man slips in
with a mayonnaise
in his soul
the two slices close
him in
perfectly to make him
feel
that this is a world
of the burger
comforted
he waits for the other
to take the
best bite
all in his life
he simply
wants to be consumed
by hunger.
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
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Recipe For A Hippopotamus Sandwich
A hippo sandwich is easy to make.
All you do is simply take
One slice of bread,
One slice of cake,
Some mayonnaise
One onion ring,
One hippopotamus
One piece of string,
A dash of pepper -
That ought to do it.
And now comes the problem…
Biting into it!
poem by Sheldon Allan Silverstein
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Museum Of Idiots
They built this whole neighborhood out of wood, out of wood.
I guess I'll still be around when they burn, burn it down.
I will be standing around when they burn it down.
Here in the Museum of Idiots.
Honey, I'm there when you need me, please believe me, please believe me.
I'll still be right where you left me, if you manage to forget me.
Where we met is where you may forget.
Here in the Museum of Idiots.
If you and I had any brains, we wouldn't be in this place.
Chop me up into pieces if it pleases, if it pleases.
And when the chopping is through, every piece will say, "I love you."
Every piece of me will say "I love you."
Here in the Museum of Idiots.
Every piece of me will say "I love you, you you"
Here in the Museum of Idiots.
song performed by by They Might Be Giants
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Writing In A Way
writing in a way is like
taking a spoon of mayonnaise
and you brush it on one side
of a sandwich
and you take another
clean sandwich and you
join them together
into one edible sandwich
to fill your empty stomach
and then you
regret having done such
a meaningless routine
when you could have
talked instead to a friend
waiting for you at the
porch of your house
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
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Her Name.
Her name's Jane I think
said Jupp
standing beside you
in the school hall
as the girl on the school bus
went by with a slow walk
carrying a bag
over her shoulder
and her dark hair
flowing down her back
anyway he added
how are you getting on
with that maths work
chisel face gave us?
You watched
until she disappeared
into a crowd of other
girls and boys
like watching
the sun go down
on a fine summer's day
and entering
a dull night
huh? Said Jupp
how you coping
with the darn maths?
All Greek to me
you said
carrying the image
of the girl off with you
as Jupp and you
made your way
along the corridor
to double metalwork
and this metalwork
Jupp moaned
it really pisses me off
what do I care
about making
a frigging tea caddy spoon?
And passing by
a print on the wall
of some Manet dame
you thought
how you'd love
to have a print
of the girl
to carry about
or have pinned
to your bedroom wall
at home
huh? Said Jupp
what's with spoons?
I've no idea
you said
all part
of the brainwash
I guess
and did the girl
move you?
you asked inside
oh yes
oh yes
oh yes.
poem by Terry Collett
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Lorenzo De Lardy
DALILAH DE DARDY adored
The very correctest of cards,
LORENZO DE LARDY, a lord -
He was one of Her Majesty's Guards.
DALILAH DE DARDY was fat,
DALILAH DE DARDY was old -
(No doubt in the world about that)
But DALILAH DE DARDY had gold.
LORENZO DE LARDY was tall,
The flower of maidenly pets,
Young ladies would love at his call,
But LORENZO DE LARDY had debts.
His money-position was queer,
And one of his favourite freaks
Was to hide himself three times a year,
In Paris, for several weeks.
Many days didn't pass him before
He fanned himself into a flame,
For a beautiful "DAM DU COMPTWORE,"
And this was her singular name:
ALICE EULALIE CORALINE
EUPHROSINE COLOMBINA THERESE
JULIETTE STEPHANIE CELESTINE
CHARLOTTE RUSSE DE LA SAUCE MAYONNAISE.
She booked all the orders and tin,
Accoutred in showy fal-lal,
At a two-fifty Restaurant, in
The glittering Palais Royal.
He'd gaze in her orbit of blue,
Her hand he would tenderly squeeze,
But the words of her tongue that he knew
Were limited strictly to these:
"CORALINE CELESTINE EULALIE,
Houp le! Je vous aime, oui, mossoo,
Combien donnez moi aujourd'hui
Bonjour, Mademoiselle, parlez voo."
MADEMOISELLE DE LA SAUCE MAYONNAISE
Was a witty and beautiful miss,
Extremely correct in her ways,
But her English consisted of this:
"Oh my! pretty man, if you please,
Blom boodin, biftek, currie lamb,
Bouldogue, two franc half, quite ze cheese,
Rosbif, me spik Angleesh, godam."
A waiter, for seasons before,
Had basked in her beautiful gaze,
And burnt to dismember MILOR,
HE LOVED DE LA SAUCE MAYONNAISE.
He said to her, "Mechante THERESE,
Avec desespoir tu m'accables.
Penses-tu, DE LA SAUCE MAYONNAISE,
Ses intentions sont honorables?
"Flirtez toujours, ma belle, si tu oses -
Je me vengerai ainsi, ma chere,
JE LUI DIRAI DE QUOI L'ON COMPOSE
VOL AU VENT E LA FINANCIERE!"
LORD LARDY knew nothing of this -
The waiter's devotion ignored,
But he gazed on the beautiful miss,
And never seemed weary or bored.
The waiter would screw up his nerve,
His fingers he'd snap and he'd dance -
And LORD LARDY would smile and observe,
"How strange are the customs of France!"
Well, after delaying a space,
His tradesmen no longer would wait:
Returning to England apace,
He yielded himself to his fate.
LORD LARDY espoused, with a groan,
MISS DARDY'S developing charms,
And agreed to tag on to his own,
Her name and her newly-found arms.
The waiter he knelt at the toes
Of an ugly and thin coryphee,
Who danced in the hindermost rows
At the Theatre des Varietes.
MADEMOISELLE DE LA SAUCE MAYONNAISE
Didn't yield to a gnawing despair
But married a soldier, and plays
As a pretty and pert Vivandiere.
poem by William Schwenck Gilbert
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I'll be me
I wana be a pretty girl
one whos loved by guys everywhere
I wana be a strong girl
one whos not afraid to be hurt
I wana be a perfect girl
one that makes my mother proud
I wana be your girl
one your always around
but I guess I'll just be this girl
one who's barely noticed
I guess I'll be a random girl
one who's making faces
I guess I'll be a choir girl
one who's always got a song to sing
i guess i'll be this girl
one who is me
poem by Jasmine Thompson
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Beat Museum
I just went to the Beat Museum
These poets are obviously dead,
Sardonic, original, witty men,
Not fit for more than what they did.
I guess it's good they left something behind,
After all, most of the world needs some kind of sign,
How could we calculate variable pain,
Raising its head through motorcycle chain.
Strip joints surround the Beat Museum,
You get porno dust on your shoes as you arrive,
You can buy original copies of whatever they wrote,
And see a car, that looks like the car, Kerouac used to drive.
poem by Richard Jarboe
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I Dont Wanna Know
Well you followed me this far
Did you find out whats inside
Can you tell me what Im doing
Is it something I should hide
I dont know for sure
I dont wanna find out what I left there for
Im not scared and Im not lonely
Saving all my money or my breath
Im not looking for an answer
Or anyone to second guess no
You told me all your secrets
And I filled you up with lies
Now Im living honestly
Because I said goodbye
I cant go home anymore
I dont wanna find out what I left there for
Im not scared and Im not lonely
Saving all my money or my breath
Im not looking for an answer
Im not asking anyone to second guess
I was losing all my senses
I was losing all control
It was getting so offensive
Now you want me back for more
And I just wont go
If you think you know the answers
Youve got a lot of gall
Cause it gives you satisfaction
Knowing nothing at all
I dont care anymore
And I dont wanna find out what I left there for
What I left there for
Im not scared and Im not lonely
Saving all my money or my breath
Im not looking for an answer
Im not asking anyone to take a second guess no
Im not scared and Im not lonely
Saving all my money or my breath yeah
Im not looking for an answer
Im not asking anyone to take a second guess no
Take a second guess yeah
Take a second guess yeah
(hey)
Take a second guess yeah
(hey)
Take a second guess yeah
Take a second guess
(I cant talk to you)
Take a second guess
(yeah, yeah I know)
Take a second guess
(well I gotta go okay)
Take a second guess
Take a second guess
(over one billion served)
Take a second guess
Oh yeah
song performed by by Indigo Girls
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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The Girl Inside
the girl inside has a fear,
of what the girl inside holds so dear,
far from reality, but always in dream,
the girl inside is screaming althought it may not seem,
it grows louder and louder everyday,
just wondering why the feeling just wouldnt stay,
the girl inside more then ever wants to run,
just wanting to tell everyone that she is done,
the girl inside feels sick all over,
in her head she feels so drunk,
she just cant seem to shake this phunk,
the girl inside just wants to die,
even when the girl out side wond dare to cry,
the girl inside has a fear,
of what the girl inside holds so dear,
but the girl outside just wont let it near! ! !
poem by Michelle Guza
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Salad Poetry
neruda's chicken
nuggets
whitman's elbow
macaroni
william's mayonnaise
dickinson's olive oil
a little of elliot's salt
and robert's
frost, brautigan's
catfish, lowell's skunk,
sea canes of walcott,
bishop's broccoli
with armadillo meat
yeat's yeast bread
an afternoon of friends
in a party with
robinson
spring ice storm on
mountain road in the poconos,
as mayer says the grace.
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
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