“Man, I'd tap that!”
Sylvia Plath (October 27, 1932 – February 11, 2004), named after the Ryan Adams song of the same name, was an American poet, novelist, short story writer, and essayist, best known for her colossal vagina, made reference to in her poem "Ariel" as "the cauldron of the morning". Although she is mostly recognized as a poet, Plath is also known for her well-documented heroin addiction. She is also beloved by everyone ever for writing the popular folk song "Home Under the Gas Range" about the oven where she spent most of her... un-life. She is, to this day, an avid zombie.
She was better than Ted Hughes, and that potato-digging twat Seamus Heaney. End of.
The Bell Jar
The Bell Jar, her semi-autobiographical novel, chronicles this struggle. Sylvia Plath was also a friend to the mad celebutante, Anne Sexton. Together, they began a franchise of male strip-clubs called "Coconuts." Well known "poets," such as Robert Lowell and W.D. Snodgrass were known to frequently take the stage at these joints--shaking their coconuts like true professionals. Naturally, such behavior led to confession. Thus, confessional poetry made its way onto the scene. One of the better examples of confessional poetry is Lowell's "I Like to Giz on Old Man Snodgrass":
- I like to giz on old man Snodgrass
- because he's such a sticky fellow.
- When I press his chest to my ass,
- he screams, "Please, douse me in yellow.
Because Sylvia was such a popular bitch, this confessional scene soon grew into one massive bitching scene known as emo. And thus sylvia created emo. This was a massive sin - "thou shall not create emo" is the number 1, not to be fucked with commandment by almighty Oscar Wilde. Because of this disgusting betrayal of Wilde's sexiness, Sylvia was sentenced to infinity years inside a jar (which had a bell inside it. And that is where the name "The Bell Jar" came from.
Such earnest work had an impact on Plath, for not long after reading Lowell's epic poem, Plath endeavored to write her own collection of confessional poems titled The Colossus. Of course, during this interval, she met a young vagabond named Ted Hughes. Ted Hughes was a rabid feminist and a homemaker of the highest quality, often baking two to three pies per day for his poetess.
Not long after they met, Plath completed her collection to rave reviews. Almost immediately, she sky-rocketed to fame, becoming the first female poet to ever win the much lauded Nobel Prize. This, she shelved next to her collection of Cerberus dildos in the foyer.
Buoyed by her sudden success, she went on to write a record 65 collections, the height of which were the infamous Ariel poems. In that collection, she desribed her love for men of all ages, especially her father who, by that time, was nearly 70. The poem "Daddy" was the centerpiece of the collection; it explicated Plath's complex love for her aging father as well as his confounding fetish for bees. For the sake of propriety, Plath often told people that her father was an entymologist--but there is a difference between loving bees and LOVING bees. This, of course, more than explains the poem "The Beekeeper's Daughter," to say the least.
Later in her life, Plath gave birth to two children, Frieda and Nicholas, who, like their mother, had a profound love for male strippers. Eventually, after Plath's death at the ripe age of 72, Nicholas joined a band of wandering Sylvia Plath drag queens in the south of Transylvania. Through him, Plath will foever live on in our hearts and minds.
Sylvia Plath was one crazy bitch. She spent her college money to enroll herself in a mental institute and crawled under her dorm with a bottle of pills to commit suicide.
Dancing With The Stars
Plath rose from the grave to compete on Dancing with the Stars. She was paired with lesbian icon Lara Croft. Both were killed, as was everyone else.
Sylvia Plath is best placed in the back of the oven for several hours, then served immediately.