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I Don’t Understand Job

Handjob Blandjob Idontunderstandjob

I got a problem and I can’t contain it
I’ll use my icky sticky rhymes to help me explain it
Handy jays are like Stonehenge to me
Robert Stack can’t even Unsolve this Mystery

I’m the messed up child of a baby boomer
I was in the gifted class but a total late bloomer
Now I got secret to get off my chest
Went from kissing to sex but never learned the rest

In high school I was in the marching band
Not learning what to do with my hand
While other girls were dripping like a Jackson Pollock
I blossomed later than Miyam Bialick

I’m investigating Bones like Deschanel
Trying to make it stand up like Dave Chapelle
When I stare down the barrel of a semi-hard dick
I feel more Singled Out than Chris Hardwick

I studied Bach, Jacques Chirac and Isaac Asimov
But I wasn’t on the ski bus jerking people off
Wouldn’t let you touch my chest like you’re vapor rubbin’ Vicks in
Let alone Deep Throat your Tricky Dick Nixon

I wanna learn how to make your Watergates flow
I’m resigned like Spiro Agnew that I might never know
How to HJ your LB Johnson
Know less about dicks than Samantha Ronson

I should’ve explored new frontiers like Will Wheaton
But I was more conservative than Alex P. Keaton
I’ve fallen into crisis just like the dow
I wanna give a handjob and I don’t know how

Handjob Blandjob Idontunderstandjob
Do I spit, do I squeeze, do I ever the touch the top
How can I learn when you always make me stop?

Now I’m on a full blown investigation
To unlock the secrets of ejaculation
I need a translator like I’m reading Balzac
To crack the Rosetta Stone over your ball sack

The top is the part that confuses me the most
It looks like a Silly Puddy Pac Man ghost
Sometimes it’s Jello jiggling, sometimes it’s denser
But they all look like a Darth Vader Pez Dispenser

Like Sam Jackson, I’m not as good with Shaft
When it is soft and flabby like President Taft
It’s like a deep south queen that you wanna make straight
Will I make it upright if I move it like a shake weight

I’m pumping like brakes that aren’t anti-lock
Trying not to go Psycho on your Alfred Hitchcock
I go a little faster and then I retard
It’s like a hampster that I don’t wanna squeeze too hard

I’m working my hand ‘til it gets arthritis
I’ll be holdin’ ‘til I get the golden touch of Midas
“I think therefore I am” getting my Descartes on
‘Til I fully comprehend your Marcia Gay Hard-on

But the biggest, throbbing question of all’s
Seriously, what do you do with the Balls?
Do I roll ‘em like dice, do I mold ‘em like Clay
Do I tickle ‘em like Elmo or throw ‘em like a partay

Should I move ‘em all around or cup it slow
They’re like the two bald critic puppets from the Muppet show
Just sitting there cranky and superfluous
How bout I don’t touch ‘em unless you insist

Handjob Blandjob Idontunderstandjob
Do I spit, do I squeeze, do I ever the touch the top
How can I learn when you always make me stop?

How can I learn when you always make me stop?

THIS PARTY TOOK A TURN FOR THE DOUCHE

We roll into the bar cause that’s how we do
Garfunkel, Oates and the rest of the crew
Give a dollar to my homegirl and watch that bitch go she
Hits up the juke box and puts on Jim Croce
Operator, can you help me make this call?

We’re laughing and talking and the drinks are flowing
And I’m the liking the direction this night is going
But then I look up and something has changed
Everyone around us looks fucking deranged

I look to my left, I look to my right
Nothing but Von Dutch hats in sight
With super tight abs and super tan skin
I swear this ain’t the club that I walked in

The techno music starts to play
And the room smells like Axe body spray
I’m like Golda Meir with no gold in my ear
Please tell me what the hell happened here

Yo it ain’t pretty but you know it’s the truth
This party just took a turn for the douche

For the douche, for the douche
For the motherfuckin’ douche
Thought it was a perfect party
Now it’s just a lot of Ed Hardy
This party just took a turn for the douche

Guess I can’t beat ‘em so I’m gonna join ‘em
Need some douche phrases and I’m gonna coin ‘em
Put my bluetooth in and I’m on my way
Gonna be a mother fuckin’ douchebag today

Gonna groom my beard like a bonsai tree
Wax off my chest like Mr. Miyagi
Got a Chinese tat, don’t know what it means
But it makes me look deep to girls in their teens

Don’t need sleeves on my shirt, just rip ‘em off
And leave ‘em exposed like Bernie Madoff
Fake tan so brown you can call me Foxy
Gonna pop my collar like Limbaugh pops Oxy

Got more chains than Mr. T
And I pity the fuckwad who messes with me
Cause I’m doin’ roids ‘til my balls get teeny
Like Dennis Quaid in Innerspace, up inside the weenie

Gettin’ crunk on brewskis with my broskis
Cooler than Ice cube wearing snow skis
Sweeter than the life of Zach and Cody
Higher than the voice of Truman Capote

Yeah I’ll drop a g for that bottle of Goose
This party just took a turn for the douche

For the douche, for the douche
For the motherfuckin’ douche
Thought it was a perfect party
Now it’s just a lot of Ed Hardy
This party just took a turn for the douche

We’re an Army in the Night like Norman Mailer
And it’s time to be a tool like my name is Tim Taylor
I’m a VIP cause my table said so
I’m a use some Rufees cause the skank said no

I like my hair like I like my girl’s drink
Spiked as fuck

Did my last keg stand like General Custer
And I’m assessin’ the damage like a claims adjuster
I ain’t your daddy but I’ll call you son
Yeah I get metaphysical like fuckin’ John Donne

I’m holdin’ up the beats like I was Lloyd Dobbler
Girls are on the dance floor shakin’ their cobbler
I’m Cool like LL, Fly like Jeff Goldblum
And I’m gonna find the biggest ho in this room

Girl’s wax is Brazilian, her manicure’s French
Jean Nate is her signature stench
She got rocks on her fingers and beneath her areolas
Her garden’s more savage then ch ch cherry colas

Her heels are as clear as my intentions to bang her
Hope she’s birth controlled like Margaret Sanger
Gonna Boner Stabbone her, Mike Seaver her Beaver
Take her gold for cash then mother fuckin’ leave her

I ain’t in love w you cousin I ain’t George Michael Bluth
This party just took a turn for the douche

For the douche, for the douche
For the motherfuckin’ douche
Thought it was a perfect party
Now it’s just a lot of Ed Hardy
This party just took a turn for the douche

So after debating how best to post these chords so they would make sense, this is the latest solution.

Click here!

You’ll be taken to a small image, then have to click on a larger image to see the corrected chords and lyrics!

More to come!