“Girl From Miami (Squish The Fish)”

Sung to the tune "Girl From Oklahoma" by Steel Panther
Tell me more!

steel panther zoom


Well, I bet you never guessed

When you got to the game

You’d be smashing through tables

And feelin’ no pain

Your boyfriend’s in the parking lot

Looking for you

He’s gonna find you when I’m done

Covered in Buffalo goo



Ooooh, Miami girl got all sticky



Silicone titties

Tramp stamp on your beaver?

Down in South Beach

You’re a wide receiver

What’d you have to do

For that field-access pass

Cuz I found a Marino jersey stuffed up your ass



Come on, Miami girl

Squish the fish all night

Checkin’ out your tailgate

Sure hope it’s tight

Dolphins gonna lose, ya know I’m right

Oooh, Miami girl, squish the fish all night



Yeah, that's it

Aaah, deflate my balls



Pinto Ron, ketchup n mustard

In the Hammer Lot

I can’t wait to do a

Bowling ball shot

Wings ‘n Labatt Blue

Is what they got

The only thing better

Is her mouth and her twat



Hey eyyy, who’s next ta fuck her

Whoa, whoa



Come on, Miami girl

Squish the fish all night

I'm part-a Bills Mafia

So please don’t bite

Here comes a batch-a blue cheese

It’ll taste alright

Oooh, Miami girl, squish the fish all night



In the AFC

There's a hundred billion wacko chicks, just like you

Hungry for dongs to screw



Come on, Miami girl

Squish the fish all night

Sneak in a dildo

Throw with all your might

Drunk near the railing

You fell outta sight

Oooh, Miami girl, squish the fish all night



Come on, Miami girl

Squish the fish all night

I'm part-a Bills Mafia

So please don’t bite

Here comes a batch-a blue cheese

It’ll taste alright

Oooh, Miami girl, squish the fish all night



Hey, Miami girl

Squish the fish all night

Zubaz’d in your end zone

Much to your delight

Dolphins gonna lose, ya know I’m right

Oooh, Miami girl, squish the fish all night



Come on, Miami girl

Squish the fish all night

Only in Buffalo!

This excerpt is from the beginning of “Squish the Fish: A Tale of Dating and Debauchery” by Dave Lundy. The bestselling novel has won numerous comedic awards and been called “The Hangover” in Buffalo, NY.

Trapped like a turtle flipped on its shell, a man flails his limbs through the puffy snow. As he passes out, the alcohol in his bloodstream celebrates with wildly inappropriate dance-moves inspired by the night’s sins. The glow from a streetlamp punctures the darkness like a police helicopter’s spotlight and frames the helpless fool in his jagged snow-angel.

A few hours later, at dawn, an elderly woman is walking her Saint Bernard down the quiet street when she notices the collapsed body. Her first thought — What the fuck? — naturally is filled with compassion. But after she reminds herself of one critical detail, it all makes sense — This is Buffalo… of course there’s a drunk jackass lying in the snow. As she shrugs-off the aspiring Darwin Award winner, an alluring scent pulls the dog in the man’s direction. Tearing the leash from its master’s grasp, it dashes to investigate.

snow angel

Now, above the lush, the shaggy beast pants and stares in wonder. Masked by a pair of pink cotton-panties, the man looks like some sort of deranged bank robber. If the dog could form complex thoughts, it might speculate — For what ungodly reason is he wearing that? Is it a desperate attempt to prevent his face from freezing off? Perhaps it’s a provocative fashion statement? Or is it, quite possibly, some next-level form of perversion? But it can’t contemplate such things, so it just wags its tail in blissful ignorance. Incapable of resisting the undergarment’s exotic aroma, the hound licks the guy’s noggin like it’s a lollipop. The mutt’s tongue bursts with flavor and knows it’s struck gold — tangy, delicious gold.

Nearby, a fresh line of boot-prints marks a path up to the man and continue past him. “SUN 7:16 AM” displays on the frosty LCD of his Casio watch. Gusts of wind blow across the ground, fusing his bare hand with a frozen bottle of Genesee Cream Ale. A tattered envelope labeled “Buffalo Tickets” flaps in his other hand and scatters a rainbow of glitter dust into the breeze.

The slobbering dog belongs to a breed known for saving people buried in snowstorms, however, this pooch’s glowing eyes foretell that a rescue is far from how things are about to go down. The inebriated fellow, unaware that his forehead is the soon-to-be target of an amorous assault, remains oblivious when the canine launches into its grand-finale. The funny thing is (which can only be said when you’re not on the receiving end of such an act) humiliations such as this don’t compare with what the city has endured throughout its outlandish history.

As the animal’s pleasure-romp reaches a fever pitch, its owner strolls into the spectacle like it’s nothing out of the ordinary. While reaching for the leash, she halts abruptly and scratches her scalp. Anger builds as she reads a urine scribbled message in the snow that audaciously proclaims “GOD HATES BUF…” and trails off into a wavy drizzle.

Now in control of the tether, the old woman gives it a harsh tug. While dragging her pet away, she reflects for a moment and mutters to herself, “Is that clown, right? Does God hate Buffalo?”

Copyright © 2017 by Bottoms Up Publishing. All rights reserved.

"Squish the Fish" Front Cover