Friday, April 08, 2005


The twins are coming out, through my halter top, two raisin points are going to shout
No bra and panties on, not even a tampon
Not a ho, just going commando.
Feel the warm air, just makes you want to go bare.
Got skin that just wants to sin. Make the boys look and read me like a book.

I feel the wind light whisper as I walk and talk on my cell phone more guys stop and gawk
Looking to the nights when light leaves late. Don’t hesitate, go on a date.
Sunbathing, rollerblading and just plain escaping. All in Central Park. Be still my heart.

Minks and UGGs back in the closet. I want my warm weather deposit.
Break out the Daisy Dukes splashed with BoHo juice.

Not stiff and covered up, no more of that stuff.
Wearing a skirt so loose it shows my Jewish Caboose.

Winter is gone. Time to get my Spring on.

Hitting B8


Anonymous Anonymous said...

What the . . . ?

9:50 AM  
Blogger J.Green said...

That is a very bad poem. I'm sorry. I try not to be critical, but that was just bad.

3:08 PM  
Anonymous Anonymous said...

I think it's a very adorable poem, PP...I love it almost as much as I love you! Won't you marry me, baby?! PLEASE!

4:52 PM  
Anonymous Anonymous said...

Whatup girl! I didn't see you at B8 Friday night!

7:15 PM  
Anonymous Anonymous said...

Dude. "two raisin points are going to shout
No bra and panties on, not even a tampon" You are nasty! Why do I feel like you have a smelly vagina?

11:36 PM  
Anonymous Nikki said...

Just.... eww.

9:23 AM  
Anonymous AppleBlossom said...

Why go on someone else's blog and make fun of what they wrote? PP is obviously enjoying the warm weather and having fun. It's a Blog people, not a literary journal. Loosen up. Even if this is all a joke, the character is becoming more and more fascinating.

12:00 PM  
Anonymous Anonymous said...

The only thing worse than reading that horrid excuse of a poem is picturing your huge ass in daisy-dukes.

I bet it's like an enormous garbage bag filled with cottage cheese.

2:04 PM  
Anonymous The Writer said...


I guess it had a beat to it? Sort of? ........

5:54 PM  
Anonymous other said...

Has it not occurred to anyone that she didn't actually write this?

7:57 PM  
Blogger Pradaprincess said...

I did write this. And I am really pissed.

8:42 PM  
Blogger Ole said...

Hard time I may have given you in the past few months, but big-ass jokes are beneath even me.

Sounds more like song lyrics than poetry, honey. Might I make a suggestion? It doesn't have to rhyme to be poetry, you know.

3:32 AM  
Anonymous Anonymous said...

I'm starting to think that there may just be a career for you in the music industry after all, PP.

5:54 AM  
Anonymous Anonymous said...

PP, why do I get the feeling you are a nasty-ass fat ho who leaves little to the imagination? the men are staring because they can't get over your rolls and cratered butt. ew.

yes, her vagina probably does smell.

7:29 AM  
Anonymous Anonymous said...

it's a JAP RAP song you bunch of fools.

9:49 AM  
Anonymous Anonymous said...

What the hell is jap rap?

7:33 PM  
Anonymous Anonymous said...

Now I know this is a fake journal.

7:36 PM  
Anonymous Anonymous said...

JAP RAP is Jewish American Princess Rap, dude. And as a matter of fact I think she did a brilliant job of it. Go PP!

8:38 PM  
Anonymous Anonymous said...

Dearest PP,
I have been reading your blog for quite awhile now, and this is the conclusion I have come to:
In your interior self you actually possess a real depth of mind, heart and spirit. However, because of your upbringing it has never been recognized or nurtured.
Your parents suffocated their own sensitive interior selves, and they have attempted to do the same to you.
I think they will have failed, though, in their attempt to crush your spirit, if you keep writing, thereby allowing yourself to expand the parameters of that tight little psychological space they tried to squeeze you into.
Keep writing your songs, keep exposing your thoughts, keep stretching the bars of that golden cage.
Don't give in to their demands, their threats, their guilt trips. Don't be like like you...the real you, the one who keeps crying to get free.
love you,PP!

8:50 PM  
Blogger Ole said...

That last comment makes me feel physically sick.

9:17 AM  
Anonymous Anonymous said...

You're a serious a-hole, ole! Shut up, for once.... All I see are your stupid postings; you keep talking, talking, talking...about nothing intelligent, by the way.

11:03 AM  
Anonymous other said...

um, yeah, ole ! pp is, like, SO more intelligent than you !

8:18 PM  
Anonymous Nikki said...

WTF?? ole makes more sense than any of you! this poem made the baby jesus cry.

10:41 AM  
Anonymous Anonymous said...

PP, Ole is a humourless dimwit -- keep writing!

10:43 AM  
Blogger NYiBanker said...

nice poem baby
the springtime makes us all crazy
the way girls wear their clothes
what a guy will do, who knows

watch you walk down the street
with your bare pretty feet
it's you i want to know
dance with you close at cielo

Dont mind these hating fools
we only make them drool
for you all should kneel and thank her
Love your one and only i banker

3:05 PM  
Anonymous Anonymous said...

PP, are you getting cozy with the banker? is he hott? hope he's not just after your money. best wishes!

4:09 PM  
Anonymous other said...

that was sarcasm, nikki..

4:19 PM  
Blogger catwomannyc said...

this poem is BRILLIANT! PP, i love your blog!

11:33 AM  

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