the news is public
buried in a list of deals
is my own book! Woo!

Yay! The deal is announced. Here it is, cribbed from the Publisher’s Lunch daily email from Publisher’s Marketplace:

Kari Anne Roy’s MAMA HAIKU, detailing the random, wondrous (and
gross) joys of motherhood in verse, to Melissa Wagner at Quirk Books, by Daniel Lazar at Writers House (world).

The title of the book is actually HAIKU MAMA, though.

Hey, at least they spelled my name right.


world’s ugliest father’s day cake

OK, note to self
greasing bundt pan with butter
not great idea

Oh, well. it’s gonna taste good.




I hate stupid fucks
who drive their big ol ass cars
just to run me down

I am at the point, I think, where I am going to start crashing my car into other people’s cars on purpose, just to show them that a) they are stupid fucks b)breaking laws has consequences and c)they are stupid fucks.

I mean, seriously. Did the Volvo come with a cloaking device that I am unaware of? Does it have a big fucking bright red sign on it that says CUT ME OFF, I DON’T CARE! Maybe it says, SURE, COME ON OVER. TWO CARS CAN TOTALLY FIT IN THIS ONE LANE. Maybe it’s sort of an LED thing that flashes IT TURNS ME ON WHEN YOU DON’T SIGNAL. Or LET’S TEST OUT THESE SIDE AIRBAGS, SHALL WE?

No wonder my kid shits his pants whenever we leave the house. Because people are constantly trying to kill us. People like, say, evil, dumb fucks driving red cars who don’t want to mar their precious brake pedals, and instead of stopping their cars to let me and my son cross the street, they first TRY TO RUN US THE FUCK OVER IN THE PARKING LOT and then SWERVE AROUND US when they change their minds, causing me to scream out an obscenity that is still echoing in the ears of the wee one AND the 175 year old dude who helps us put the groceries in the car.

DAMMIT people suck. Especially when they try to kill my kid and his old people friends.

And while I’m ranting… what is UP with the gargantuan rock trucks driving around with signs on the back of them that say something to the effect of "If a rock flies off this truck and breaks your windshield it’s your own damn fault." Um, no it’s not. It’s YOUR fault for having a FUCKTON sized truck – full of FUCKTON sized rocks – with only a rusted out tailgate holding all that shit in. Can I get a sign on MY car that says, "If I crash into you it’s not my fault, because you are a stupid fuck?" DAMN, people.


independent bird
flies away from weirdo king
go, go, birdie, go!

"King Friday has two wooden birds with very long names."

This is a direct quote from Mr. Rogers this morning. I don’t know what the hell he’s talking about. Where’s my TWoP Mr. Rogers recap, dammit?


yes, it’s natural
and yes, everyone does it
but not in meetings

The wee one has developed a propensity for saving up his poopin’ prowess for when we’re out of the house.

He came with me to a meeting about some freelance work: 5 minutes into the meeting – poop.

He stayed with Daddy at work while mommy went to the doctor: 5 minutes into visiting Daddy’s office – poop.

He went to the dentist this morning for an "orientation" visit (to just meet everyone and see the equipment, before we go for the cleaning next week): 5 minutes in the waiting room – poop.

This is not counting the urinating on the floor at the vet’s office.

You might think he’s just a nervous kid, pooping at the mere thought of meetings or doctors. But I don’t think that’s it. This is a gregarious, walk straight up to strangers and strike up a conversation (!) kind of kid. He doesn’t really get nervous.

You might also think this is a potty-training thing. But we’re not pushing the potty at all. He’s wearing pull-ups and gets stickers if he goes in the potty, but that’s it. We’re trying to be low-key about it, so he doesn’t get all weird about it. Right.

So anyway. My kid needs to be in public to poop. Does that sound like a Maury show, or what?

speaking of curse words

hello? sanity?
sorry about this morning.
can you please come back?

Took Newman to the vet. AGAIN. For his ears AGAIN. Nothing new. Except that I’m out another $120.

Oh, and while we were there, the wee one PEED on the floor of the exam room.

Mmm-hmm. Keep laughing.



It’s taken me a long time, but I finally stopped peppering my language with obscenities… until I started watching The Wire. Just when I thought I was out, those gaping asshole cocksucking fuckers pull me back in.

(sorry mom)