i came. i saw. i ate all your cheese. photographer :: imaginary world traveler :: word guzzler :: coffee grinder :: night owl :: indie listener :: wisecracker. a little sarcastic, a tad comical...Sarcomical.
I'll be honest. I do get excited about presents...I really do. But I get exponentially more excitement from the food that is splayed out for hours and hours to snack on and cause immense regret approximately 4 days later, when the glow of the holiday has tarnished a bit and the button on my jeans digs just a enough into my skin to make me feel uncomfortable.
For this haiku assignment, let's talk holiday food...any way you want to present it. What do you tend to overeat this time of year? Do you have a strange holiday food tradition? Who makes the food for your family? Are you a feaster or a scavenger? Haiku it, because it's time to start craving (and doing some extra workouts and self-talk to prepare for the guilt that will soon follow).
I'll get the ball rolling:
stab them with toothpicks oooh, spread it on a cracker i'll pop a hundred
yes, i do believe a better friend there is not than this plate of cheese
True, I may have the luxury of working in sweatpants in my home office (not that I do that *cough* of course) and much of my other working time is now spent standing, laying, squatting, and contorting myself into very unattractive positions behind the camera, there was a time when I worked in a few different offices and other work-type environments, and had much experience in The Classic Art of Workplace Time Wastage. You know, you get bored out of your skull, can't remotely focus on some mundane task ahead of you, or have simply checked off every. single. thing. you could possibly do today, including straightening all of the paperclips in that well in your desk drawer...and you still have TWO AND A HALF HOURS left before you can be released from hell?
Even though my current boss is Me, and I can't really cheat Myself out of valuable productive time without Myself making Me feel guilty about it, I still manage to find ways to practice this Art of Time Wastage. For example, instead of leaving my office every 15 minutes to go down the hall to pretend like I'm making copies and am having trouble with the printer, I now can get up from my desk every 15 minutes to go down the hall and pretend like I have to throw Lucy's ball to alleviate her boundless energy or she'll eat my face when I'm sleeping.
"i are killur. feer me."
Today's 5-7-5 assignment is to put one of your own time-wasting tasks in the haiku spotlight. Who knows, you just might learn some new skill here to make it through your day. I'll go first:
find this task quite dull sigh and notice keyboard dust compressed air can search
Even though the full amount of itchy rash that invaded my arms from the weeds I yanked out of the backyard in the middle of the night during a manic caffeine rush isn't fully visible here, suffice it to say that whenever my skin gets in direct contact with weeds or cut grass, I become a scratching machine. When I was younger, sometimes sitting in the grass while wearing shorts would cause an entire blanket of red pimply bumps to explode on my thighs and behind my knees. I know what you're thinking. Sexy.
For this week's 5-7-5 assignment, get creative about telling us something that YOU'RE allergic to or seem to have an otherwise strange reaction to. Yes, this has the potential to get a bit icky, I realize, especially if you do it well. But who ever said the Internet was always pretty? Maybe sometimes it's got a rash.
I'll get the ball rolling:
nature-hostage teen band camp wasn't bad enough my legs looked like braille
What would you like to go back and tell your Week-Ago Self? Would you warn yourself about something? Advise yourself to make a different decision? Tell yourself to make more of an effort to make a certain someone smile? Scold yourself for that shoe choice with that outfit? Slap down the 5-7-5 and tell us all about it. I'll go first:
if i had the chance i'd bestow this wise nugget: "don't eat those scallops"
Oh, sweet heavens and a bag of Cheetos, I'm starting to think this girl would make out with her grandmother in the back seat of a car just to get into another news day. Honestly, I don't want to imply that she doesn't have the right to her nervous breakdown, or that because she is a celebrity she should be more perfect than the rest of us, but I just wish that her people would DO something to shield our eyes from the burning - DEAR GOD MY EYES, THEY ARE MELTING INTO MY FACE. Aren't you all asking the same question I am - How early is too early to get those babies into therapy?
Today's haiku topic is pretty evident, yes? But there's a little catch. Slap down your 5-7-5 about what you think is coming up next for BaldyBritster. Use your fabulous skills of reasoning, logic, or imagination to determine what we'll see as her next headline.
In the grand tradition of Half-Week Haikus past, I shall go first to inspire you and break the ice:
brit bolts from rehab
obsession flares for JT
caught stealing his draw'rs
You know how I feel about Tom Cruise. (Not warm and fuzzy.)
I have to say something about the Suri photo.
I am not going to mock the child or say she isn't cute, because a) she's just a baby, it's not her fault, and I'm not a jerk and b) she is pretty darn cute. But there's something a little...shocking? unsettling? almost bizarre? about her. She looks exactly like a little computer-assisted merging of a photo of Tom and parts of Katie's face. I'm not going to lie. When I first saw this (not on the official Vanity Fair site), I wondered if it was a joke. It's kind of surreal-looking, don't you think?
So here's your haiku assignment today (I know you're a little rusty since it's been a while since I made you do this, but suck it up): Use your imagination and haiku anything that think you see in Suri's future. I'll go first, as usual.
suri tries to date
but the guys just try to see
mom out by the pool
Would you believe this is not the worst fashion choice I ever made? Well, give me credit...it WAS a Christmas gift. Nothing says sexay like a pair of black acid-wash jeans, baby. And you can't see it but I'm sure they were straight leg with tight-ish ankles. And I bet I wore them to school with a fuscia or teal blue shirt at some point. Oh, and white socks. GOOD GOD. But you know, I'm not quite so sure that you fully absorbed the rest of the picture yet. You might have missed something...
Oh sweet sweet lord. The bangs. You DO realize this was Christmas morning, right? And that I had just gotten up? So that wreckage was the REMAINS of the day before, the indestructable wall of bangs. Oh beautiful. Hot Cheese on a Cracker, that was some fine, fine hair.
So, what's the point of all this? It's been pointed out to me that it's been quite a while since our last Half-Week Haiku, and I promised the goods. So here it is. This week, haiku all about the fashion statement (or two) that you hope has gone to the land where bad style goes to die a horrible painful death and never ever returns. As usual, I'll go first to get you started:
People can be very impassioned about what condiments are PROPER AND CORRECT to put on a hot dog. (Oh, wait, is it just me?) I think I even mentioned the subject once before (because obviously it is so very important to me). So I am deeming the topic quite Haiku-worthy, indeed. I shall go first:
mustard alone rocks
husband uses mayonnaise
that's just sick and wrong
I can't believe I'm showing you this. But I love you. I love you with the infinite size of Internet Love which circles the galaxy and comes back around to envelop you in a Big Sloppy Internet Smack on the Cheek. *swoon* But I digress. What was this supposed to be about? OH YES, this week's Haiku assignment. See, two years ago we went to Florida with my sister and The Husband's brother. The sister and I acted like two Mad-Crazy Hotties and went to Disneyworld. That's right, we rocked the House of Mouse like a couple of Paris and Nicole Bitches. Okay, I kid.
Aaannnyway...what is a kickass trip to Disney without a ride on Splash Mountain? And WHAT, may I ask, is a ride on Splash Mountain without the 2-hour wait in an 89-degree line with sweaty screaming children and horny teenagers who think of the wait as a perfect time for public foreplay? Well, we finally made our glorious way onto the "raft". The creepy music and moving psycho animals began. *shudder* And slowly, ever so slowly, we made our way to THE FINAL DROP. Oh, wait a minute? Did you not get a good enough look at us in that last pic? Do not think I don't love you enough to give you a closer look at our sweet little faces, because YOU KNOW I DO. Even at the risk of you losing all further respect for me.
I give you...GROTESQUE FACIAL CONTORTIONS ON SPLASH MOUNTAIN:
That's us. With the sunglasses on. Can you tell we're related by our Tandem Screams? Lovely, no?
And so, your assignment for this week's Haiku is to caption this photo with your wit, talent, imagination, and if applicable, biting sarcasm. I have no doubt these should be interesting. As always, I'll get things started:
so we're not up high, right sis?
fuck you, brer rabbit
The Husband decided it was a good idea to take this picture of me sleeping last week on the couch when I felt like crap. (SEE my naturally down-turny mouth? GAH.) Lucy has always climbed up to me at night to get in my "Nook", as we call it. She's not happy if she's not there. Basically, I SPOON THE DOG. Except now, I have two dogs that like to cuddle (Shiloh does NOT), and only one Nook (what a goddam conundrum), which they fight over (yes, the snarly teeth come out when Ricky tries to steal Lucy's Nook), so what usually happens is that Lucy gets The Nook and Ricky sleeps between my legs. Yes. Shut up. It's more like, I make a "4" with my legs (STOP LAUGHING AT ME - it's my usual sleeping position and I AM NOT WEIRD) and he just HAS to climb in there or he acts all lost and "Where do I go?! Where do I go?!". What can I say? I'm the Fur Whisperer. Then the cat comes and sits his ass right next to my face.
Today's Haiku assignment is this: Tell me about YOUR sleeping habits. Do you snore (*cough*like my husband*cough*)? Toss and turn? Talk in your sleep? Sleep in a weird position? I'll go first.
late to bed am i
but once there dead to the world
burglar? earthquake? snoooooze.
Update: Oh, and look at how IMPORTANT and POPULAR I think I am sleeping with my cell right by my hand like that? Like anyone calls me except the husband, my mom, and my sister. Who do I think I am, Paris Hilton?
Awww, what a cute picture of me and my little sister, yes? Well, I suppose. But how incredibly, unfathomably cute we are has absolutely nothing to do with why I chose to use this picture in this week's haiku. The true story, my friends, is in the wall behind us to the right of the refrigerator. Where you see a calendar/pegboard hanging. Below which sat a trash can. A trash can above which I stood the day I decided to take scissors to my glorious head of hair (which my mother says she had waited and waited to see finally grow in) at the tender young age of 4 (about 4 years before this picture was taken), all because I had seen a little girl with some kind of 80's shag/mullet/multi-layered cut (whichever it was, I'm sure it was quite enviable *ahem*) and was quite sure I could duplicate the look myself. Needless to say, I did not. My mom walked in, caught me, shrieked in horror at what I had done to myself, and promptly took me to a professional. And that is how I went from this (Pre-Hair Massacre):
Now, I guess I should say I learned my lesson, or at least that I could never do that to myself today thus making the title of this post completely true. But as you are aware, I have had various incidents that involved getting that old urge to cut my own hair. Ah, well anyway, why don't we all get in a circle and share some of the stupidest things we did as children along these lines? I'll go first:
i feel i must chop
be it barbie's hair or mine
but i can DO IT!
OR... had to take a pee
no need to interrupt play
pee behind the fence
This pic is of my mom and her brother, and their mom. My grandma. Pretty hot, huh? *Shut up, sicko, that's my grandma! Come ON!* Well, anyway...I suppose not everyone has good memories of their grandmothers when they were little, but I have several. I always saw her as a fun-loving, Lucille-Ball-esque figure for some reason. She seemed to enjoy life from my little child perspective and laughed a lot; she never seems to be afraid to be goofy, even today. It helped that she was generally quite young when she had my mom, as was mine when she had me...so I got to know her at an earlier stage of life than some kids do their grandparents.
Your assignment today? Slap down the 5-7-5 about one of your grandmothers (or any grandparent you knew), and tell us the most significant childhood memory of them - be it an event, a family ritual, a feeling, a smell, or simply the treat you knew would be there when you went to visit. But try to be creative about it...you know how we roll here. I shall go first:
burgers with the works
the messier the better
she loves to squash them
OR... large closet upstairs
filled to the ceiling with food
child of Depression
she knew how to save
worried about running out
but twelve cans of corn?
Everyone and their mothers are doing it. At the beginning of the year, we all think "This is the year I'm going to kick my own ass!" We make plans. We buy equipment. We take a new look at that gym we joined 2 years ago. All good intentions. I for one hope I'm successful by the time May comes around. Because my friends? I shall be turning 30 this year. *ohgod* And I intend to be hotter than Pre-Coke Lohan. But I have to be honest, it's taking me some time (and self-guilting) to get my butt in gear. This week's haiku is all about what your workout has REALLY looked like lately. I'll go first: bun and thigh roller
i carry it down the stairs
then eat a pickle
I'm an animal snuggler, Lover of Words and raging introvert who others often confuse for an extrovert. I'm typically caffeinated as a rule, BE IT BY BEAN OR BY LEAF.
This is the year I'll be talking a lot about my journey to grow further as a photographer, artist, music addict, YOGISTA, writer, volunteer, life adventurer, ALMOST-VEGETARIAN, runner, book devourer, knee sock connoisseur and procreator (yes, after 13 years we're finally working on that one, and it may be a more twisty path than we anticipated).
I embrace my inner geek (see: obsession with finding the perfect pen, affection for NERD GLASSES) and accept my irrational fears (see: FEET, rug bugs, outer space). I figure they balance out my super cool musical tastes, good luck in parking lots and long legs.
*Wife to 1, fur mother to 4. Future parent to severely over-photographed children.
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