random haiku for you

grody crawling bug
is it really worth your life
to gnaw on my foot?

all the time: same pants
it’s unconscionably lame
but budget worthy

must be back to school
I’ve just bought seven new books
for no good reason

smell of number two
one part gnarly, two parts great
that’s pencils, not poo!

chewing fingernails
not America’s past time
but certainly mine

sometimes people suck
when do you learn this lesson?
can’t really be taught

speaking of some suck
being attacked by your town?
really quite uncool
(you’ll have to register to read the story. bastards.)

time wasting haiku
good for getting brain flowing
not good for deadlines

oh, and by the way


(And even though you only ran like one play and they stole that touchdown from you: Henry Melton, you’re rumblin’ stumblin’ ways make my heart go pitter pat.)

because I’m insane

that look in his eyes
made everything seem OK
I’m such a sucker

With everything that’s going on in the world, and everything that’s NOT going on in my bank account, how could I even THINK of spending $42 on a Halloween costume for the wee one? How could I? Especially with my background of making such swell costumes as the famous "Julius Caesar" and "Knight in Shining Armour?"

I have FUN making costumes. And sure, they’re not that well designed, and sometimes they’re dangerous (re: chain maille made of zillions of bent paper clips). But they turn out awesome and it’s such a surprise for the wee one, and I can proudly say that we haven’t bought into the Disney Store hype of consumerism and dirty old man cartoonist propaganda.

Except that I have bought in to it.

To the tune of $42.

For a Buzz Lightyear costume.

Am I going to hell for this? I guess if I am, it’s worth it. The wee one is so freakin’ ecstatic he can barely stand it. And my sadness over the state of this country and the state of the world and the state of my lame-ass cul-de-sac full of redneck neo-cons was immediately alleviated. I am so happy watching the wee one be so happy.

But, damn. $42?! I’m such a sucker.



krispy cremes, combos
anticipate birthday sick
who needs alcohol

Today is my birthday! I am 29! I slept til 10 AM! I ate Krispy Creme doughnuts! Tonight is Texas vs. Ohio State! Woot!

(That is not a picture of me, by the way. Just in case you were wondering)


no dirty mind here
the only innuendo
is political

The wee one was watching Sesame Street this morning (well, he was running around pretending to be Boba Fett while Sesame Street was on) and I was busying myself with some inane thing when suddenly I heard this song:

"Iraq has no food. Iraq is not alive. Iraq doesn’t grow like your brother."

I was all, What the—, so I zeroed in on my favorite monsters. My first thought was, dang, those conservatives really HAVE taken over PBS. And then I thought, No, maybe the PBS guys are trying to make some kind of point about war. And then I figured out the song wasn’t about "Iraq" but "a rock".

My mind is in some kind of weird alternate universe gutter.


doing cabbage patch
as this name goes up in lights
tiny, little lights

Look what I just discovered! Haiku Mama on Amazon! Not only THAT, it’s also on the Japanese Amazon site – RIGHT NEXT TO PLAYBOY. I don’t get the connection, but I find it hilarious. Perhaps, that’s not the best marketing target, but whatever. IT EFFING ROCKS.

There’s no cover art yet, and you have to preorder for April, but it’s there. It has an ISBN. I’ve never been so pleased to have a barcode in my whole life.


girl crushes

please don’t you worry
your boobs don’t do it for me
but I still like you

I very briefly saw this thing on the Today show a few weeks ago – about some book a couple of women wrote on "girl crushes". From what I gather, these are things that women get for each other upon first meeting. Like, say, you’re starting a new job and you see this cool chick across the sea of cubes, and she has pink chuck taylors and a mudhoney poster and you like her hair and – BAM – you have a girl crush. It’s not like you want to hop in the sack with her, it’s just that she seems interesting and fun and maybe, if you could get up the nerve to ask her to go to Wendy’s with you for lunch, you two could forge a friendship that would one day include drinking margaritas at each other’s house, or maybe tp-ing the boss’s new Boxter.

Anyway, unlike Matt Lauer, I believe girl crushes happen to everybody. I especially think this phenomenon is great with mamas. Call them Mama Crushes, if you want, I think this is a quite prevalent thing to feel when you meet someone new. I don’t remember having a lot of girl crushes before I was a mom. Sure there was the office crush or the girl in high school who seemed so cool and lofty or whatever, but nowadays, I’m getting mama crushes all the time.

Maybe it’s being sequestered in the house. Maybe it’s the embarrassing incredulity that I’m not the only woman who became a mama and didn’t just lose herself in her kid. Sure I love him and I love to talk about him, but when I can connect with another mama and talk about Other Stuff, it is just such a fine feeling. It’s like a drug. You mean I can fill my days with conversations BESIDES whether or not Star Wars storm troopers have ears?! It’s invigorating and fun.

So. I’m trying to find a point here. I guess my point is that I have girl crushes on a lot of mamas. They’re all so smart and funny and engaging and loving towards their kids, and even my kid.

This is TOTALLY something no one tells you about when you have a kiddo. Not one baby book prepared me for this. But I dig it, you know? I dig the crushes.


it’s so not that much
but at least it’s something, right?
we all need some shoes

About three months ago I went crazy and gutted my closet. Tons of clothes and shoes went into garbage bags and were whisked away to Goodwill (because I got lost trying to find the women’s shelter and no one would answer the phone, and I know it’s not their fault, but I still feel guilty for not taking my stuff to the women’s shelter.)


I just went through everything again and managed to get two more bags of clothes to send to Katrina refugees (why do I hate saying "refugees"? Why is is so hard for me to type it and say it? It isn’t that I don’t believe the US could have refugees, because deep down I’ve always believed the US to ALREADY have refugees – people who can’t afford food and shelter and diapers because they can’t fucking make a living wage even though they have two jobs and a goddamned bus pass to get them around town. The same people who can’t evacuate during a mandatory evacuation because THEY HAVE NO TRANSPORTATION. But I digress. I don’t know why it’s hard for me to mouth or type "refugees" but it is hard.)

So I got together my clothes, I stole some of my hubby’s clothes, I took some of the wee one’s clothes, I tossed in my sneakers and a baby sun hat for good measure and I hope everything is on its way to helping out some folks. I wish it could be more. But it is what it is.

And the wee one is so pissed at me, because every time I see him I nearly smother him with hugs and kisses and sneaky tears because he is so lucky – we are all so lucky – to be where we are.


I thought those segways
were supposed to solve this shit
where’s my damn prius?

Here’s a transcript of the conversation I had with my budget this morning:

"Hey Budget, how’s it hangin’?"

"Everyzing eez fine." (I don’t know why my budget has a French accent.)

"I have a question for you…"

"Hurry up wiz it. I haff to reconcile your reckless Amazon.com purchase."

"Um, right. Well, I was wondering if it would be OK for me to spend a little more than $80 a week for gas?"

(Budget spits out his french decaf) "WHAT?! Zis iz not in me! I haff no wiggle room for zis!"

"I know, and I’m really sorry, but what can I do? My hubby has to go to work. I have to get out and buy groceries…"

"Grozeriez?! You will not be eating grozeriez if you spend the $80 a week for petrol!"

"Seriously. Is there anything you can do? Any way to manage at all?"

"Say gootbye to Netflix, sweethart. Bye-Bye Netflixy. Bye-Bye to zee name-brand lunch meats. Bye-Bye to zee soft TP. Bye-Bye to keeping zee house at zeventy-eight degrees during zee day. Zen maybe you are haff-way zere."

*sigh* "You’re a pain in the ass, Budget."

"At least you ztill haff your ass to have pains in."

"Excellent point, Budget."

"Mmm-hmm. Now go away. I haff a lot of work to do."