tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-17628067988270336022023-11-16T08:15:24.541-05:00Laurie's Comedy Nookcomedic essays with some haiku thrown inLauriehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00193914393764227805noreply@blogger.comBlogger63125truetag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1762806798827033602.post-54957412521300512392016-09-08T00:26:00.001-04:002016-09-08T00:26:32.199-04:00Horrified Harriet Teacher Harriet was horrified....<a href="http://www.zazzle.com/horrified_harriet_sweatshirt-235848196594719985?CMPN=emc_ProductCreationForStore_Html_blogger&rf=238186096154610800&lang=en#.V9DndXu7ag0.blogger">http://www.zazzle.com/horrified_harriet_sweatshirt-235848196594719985?CMPN=emc_ProductCreationForStore_Html_blogger&rf=238186096154610800&lang=en</a>Lauriehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00193914393764227805noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1762806798827033602.post-63819834979070642082010-07-03T00:42:00.003-04:002012-12-28T19:41:38.742-05:00New Site<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
</div>
<br />
<b><a href="http://www.laurieholmanfunnywriter.com/">New Site</a>: <a href="http://www.laurieholmanfunnywriter.com/">http://www.laurieholmanfunnywriter.com</a></b><br />
<br />
Humor, job search advice, and so on....Lauriehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00193914393764227805noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1762806798827033602.post-38689377142140741612010-05-30T00:12:00.002-04:002010-05-30T00:14:50.612-04:00Haiku - On the ParkwayI walk on the bridge<br />
Magnum wrapper on the ground<br />
sidewalk sex, I guess<br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiToNvIhqeiBANqrYmVSQz9JUoUDzH_3J_YTof71FFZUTeiR0TO81w40ODJeG_43yS2YQoNtB7RTjszqc_yxwcKd8DvAFz2U-M9WdMI6Nxn5lswC7R2CAl_v-9MHfVQCRSfkmJ6-ESOzNY/s1600/hawk.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiToNvIhqeiBANqrYmVSQz9JUoUDzH_3J_YTof71FFZUTeiR0TO81w40ODJeG_43yS2YQoNtB7RTjszqc_yxwcKd8DvAFz2U-M9WdMI6Nxn5lswC7R2CAl_v-9MHfVQCRSfkmJ6-ESOzNY/s320/hawk.JPG" /></a></div>Hawks nest on the roof<br />
try to fly - bird-watchers stare<br />
performance problemsLauriehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00193914393764227805noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1762806798827033602.post-56118947580062249582010-05-28T22:54:00.003-04:002011-07-15T23:51:54.790-04:00Have They Popped Their Corks?<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjKWESlEWzSlWqKPISWjD2uaBV4Oa0QNYPhKPpQXwPaWzihwtmXRGmMBj1mho7C0n5cs0QQtYqf54Ec62C7p7U31sqMNPUO1Ozh5GbTNgFwU2zw43qyoj2THtk23Ls7yLMXK63dBtjWuPM/s1600/RoadKillRevenge.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" height="160" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjKWESlEWzSlWqKPISWjD2uaBV4Oa0QNYPhKPpQXwPaWzihwtmXRGmMBj1mho7C0n5cs0QQtYqf54Ec62C7p7U31sqMNPUO1Ozh5GbTNgFwU2zw43qyoj2THtk23Ls7yLMXK63dBtjWuPM/s200/RoadKillRevenge.JPG" width="200" /></a></div><br />
I recently came across an event that takes place in Boston every spring. The event consists of a myriad of workshops with titles that made me wonder if it were part of some kind of parody.<br />
<br />
Apparently not.<br />
<br />
One of my favorites was "Roadkill Arts & Crafts: Using Mammals and Birds After They Have Been Killed by Cars." The lesson plan includes "harvesting roadkill and de-fatting." Interestingly enough, the facilitator has no last name. Maybe he himself has actually run over the animals whose carcasses he will bring to class, and therefore wishes to remain anonymous.<br />
<br />
"Urban Beekeeping" strikes me as a rather risky pastime in which to engage, particularly in the sense of establishing a reputation in your neighborhood as "that crazy bee lady." Personally, I'd rather not be involved in any hobby that would require wearing a net over my head.<br />
<br />
Then there's "This is a Stick-Up! The No-Gun Guide to Home Tattooing." Toxic dye and a needle in your kitchen. Now that doesn't sound like a disaster waiting to happen. <br />
<br />
And how about "What's All the Fuss About Growing and Eating Heirloom Vegetables?" First of all, what fuss are they talking about? Heirloom vegetables haven't really been a hot topic of conversation, as far as I'm aware. And what exactly are heirloom vegetables? Are they really, really old vegetables that have been rotting in the crisper from generation to generation?<br />
<br />
And you have to give credit to anyone who attends "Hair Cutting for Those with Low Standards" for acknowledging that they just don't give a crap.<br />
<br />
But I have to admit my favorite is "Female Ejaculation - You Too Can Squirt!" In this workshop, the "legend will be examined, and the reality that is squirting will be revealed." Legend? As in "The Legend of Sleepy Hollow?" I couldn't help but wonder if the lesson plan for this workshop would consist of a group of women pleasuring themselves, but apparently it's all discussion. All talk and no play, as it were. The facilitator's perspective is that squirting is a desirable goal to attain, though there are likely many men who, instead of finding it erotic, would merely ask, "Did you just pee?"Lauriehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00193914393764227805noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1762806798827033602.post-13448784360367141102010-05-22T14:46:00.000-04:002010-05-22T14:46:07.915-04:00Lost Haiku<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgKV03IZaqRl2LMyGGb8lI8_roc7fm5SN8QaXTHmA8-ofzGeYz9TeFkJOUUlH8AEoSjwnN8YBxbzeSlLfpFsNO04BbK6JMkcf42PFSi2WUkh-cPDRqegMcB3x1_S5If9wbUlu1pjsCGLL4/s1600/Lost.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgKV03IZaqRl2LMyGGb8lI8_roc7fm5SN8QaXTHmA8-ofzGeYz9TeFkJOUUlH8AEoSjwnN8YBxbzeSlLfpFsNO04BbK6JMkcf42PFSi2WUkh-cPDRqegMcB3x1_S5If9wbUlu1pjsCGLL4/s320/Lost.JPG" /></a></div>"Lost" scripts had mistakes<br />
but Josh Holloway's gorgeous<br />
so plot holes - who cares?<br />
<br />
I ponder small points<br />
once the Dharma soap is gone<br />
survivors would stink<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"></div><br />
"Lost" is now ending <br />
obsession redirected<br />
back to cake and sexLauriehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00193914393764227805noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1762806798827033602.post-54497482745711935072010-05-16T19:26:00.008-04:002010-05-16T23:49:32.031-04:00Haiku - Home Adventures<b>An Exorcist Moment</b><br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhEfNvyma6w1EKjzfmwgjmt2zTm14RSkwXQxJCPZKZEfXDbHzw4xVExKk9llaGvWxVnvwHns7YZHYrhNU870kB_tbXmSM7A949iWE3yxwVODAWIqVYEJkMCYdLeAZBbFY19GQn4DZDovNM/s1600/earthquake.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhEfNvyma6w1EKjzfmwgjmt2zTm14RSkwXQxJCPZKZEfXDbHzw4xVExKk9llaGvWxVnvwHns7YZHYrhNU870kB_tbXmSM7A949iWE3yxwVODAWIqVYEJkMCYdLeAZBbFY19GQn4DZDovNM/s320/earthquake.JPG" /></a></div><br />
My bed is shaking-<br />
is it possessed? An earthquake?<br />
just neighbors screwing<br />
<br />
<br />
<b>Pissing Through the Pipes</b><br />
<br />
I hear loud trickling<br />
through the laundry room ceiling<br />
hope it doesn't leak<br />
<br />
<br />
<b>Frankenstein Steps</b><br />
<br />
Ponderous footsteps -<br />
monster coming up the stairs?<br />
no - tired neighborLauriehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00193914393764227805noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1762806798827033602.post-32439953845636667652010-05-15T00:35:00.001-04:002010-05-17T18:34:56.163-04:00Phrases That Make Men Cringe<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjhTLif1DXTla2mnOzk4u_L_0PpCdKev-pNGsfvhjIUjLPhZqMKFGnGCblxoPgpwKUQ2BDHIVKYHOcHZ-m-z85eMH2WKPoAPNNZlPAZC2lSckFkR68h-pNxq4BGi7WpQBUljOe9yB0jLSA/s1600/hunky+guy.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjhTLif1DXTla2mnOzk4u_L_0PpCdKev-pNGsfvhjIUjLPhZqMKFGnGCblxoPgpwKUQ2BDHIVKYHOcHZ-m-z85eMH2WKPoAPNNZlPAZC2lSckFkR68h-pNxq4BGi7WpQBUljOe9yB0jLSA/s320/hunky+guy.JPG" /></a></div>I'm on a list kick lately. Here's a short list of phrases that men don't want to hear:<br />
<br />
1. Testicular tortion - I'm not even sure exactly what it is, but it sounds nasty. I believe some kind of unnatural twisting of genitalia is involved.<br />
<br />
2. Vaginal discharge (the bad kind). If it's not sexual, any fluids that come out of that general area are not something men want to know about.<br />
<br />
3. Menstrual anything<br />
<br />
4. Performance anxiety - even when referring to the jitters prior to doing a drum solo onstage, I imagine it's hard to hear this phrase without the negative association.<br />
<br />
5. "Size doesn't matter." No one would say this to someone who was built like King Kong. If a woman makes this comment to a man, he knows he's in trouble.<br />
<br />
6. Penile implants - Not something any man wants to have to even think about.Lauriehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00193914393764227805noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1762806798827033602.post-16562855106667932662010-05-14T19:29:00.003-04:002010-05-14T19:35:48.691-04:00Post-Mother's Day Reflections - Top Ten Ways to Not Become My Mother10. Have sex with younger men.<br />
<br />
9. Have sex.<br />
<br />
8. Never buy a plastic rain bonnet.<br />
<br />
7. Occasionally venture outside a 2-mile radius of my house.<br />
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"></div>6. Never use the phrase, "in my day...."<br />
<br />
5. Refrain from wearing clothing that covers every part of my body that looks imperfect.<br />
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhUs55np6hBUIMTtBl4_K7j7xgXaPLA5IdlpfeUhBtgheF89SK7XczvVWZEya6PJV8oZhcj2FulJiiAnfl2N7UxdH3QFIyvuZ3BnqTYsNQSzkYW9XimiX-lN_XLSrPz2s6VrcpnWvW6cAQ/s1600/underwear+1950.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" height="200" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhUs55np6hBUIMTtBl4_K7j7xgXaPLA5IdlpfeUhBtgheF89SK7XczvVWZEya6PJV8oZhcj2FulJiiAnfl2N7UxdH3QFIyvuZ3BnqTYsNQSzkYW9XimiX-lN_XLSrPz2s6VrcpnWvW6cAQ/s200/underwear+1950.JPG" width="98" /></a></div>4. Don't buy generic ice cream.<br />
<br />
3. Wear underwear that couldn't ever be used as an Ace bandage.<br />
<br />
2. Don't buy a cabinet and keep figurines of cute animals in it.<br />
<br />
1. Never say to a friend in a restaurant, "I can't eat anything on the menu, but it's okay - I'll eat when I get home."Lauriehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00193914393764227805noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1762806798827033602.post-27308976712947292832010-05-09T22:53:00.002-04:002010-05-09T23:08:25.062-04:00Boob HaikuWoman's boobs so huge<br />
she can't get out of her bed<br />
They could feed Texas<br />
<br />
Need to prop them up<br />
fling one over each shoulder<br />
to make a boob train <br />
<br />
Sex could be risky<br />
smothering a real danger<br />
keep an air hose nearLauriehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00193914393764227805noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1762806798827033602.post-63299633848501097642010-04-30T22:26:00.004-04:002010-05-01T20:15:25.464-04:00Corpse Roommate<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgFOxc3W2LLiPmJzVNaIFLPheM2VZL8ciyvHo5UQxbkl93Fil4xKjV-cPxQPd266LFtFmIotmOwVJf7mItlCShqIg-9BZaRtG9ShqpLJP0wv5o1UTTTvHnTsLhWnzdPqLlo9Wa53jFtZSk/s1600/feet+under+couch.aspx" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" height="116" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgFOxc3W2LLiPmJzVNaIFLPheM2VZL8ciyvHo5UQxbkl93Fil4xKjV-cPxQPd266LFtFmIotmOwVJf7mItlCShqIg-9BZaRtG9ShqpLJP0wv5o1UTTTvHnTsLhWnzdPqLlo9Wa53jFtZSk/s200/feet+under+couch.aspx" width="200" /></a></div>I read on MSN the other day about a guy who lived for 10 years with a dead guy under his living room couch. Apparently the dead guy had been staying with him for a few months when he just keeled over one day, presumedly from sudden heart failure or something similarly unassuming.<br />
<br />
When the undead guy saw that his friend had expired, he decided it was preferable to just turn the couch over on the corpse and leave it there indefinitely, rather than risk pissing off his landlord for taking in a boarder. I guess a dead boarder wasn't a problem. Mr. Undead apparently proceeded to continue his daily routines, including eating his dinner and watching Oprah with the corpse lying a few feet away. You'd think the blue feet sticking out from under the couch would have been distracting.<br />
<br />
But that wasn't the weirdest part. The weirdest part was that, a few months in, two city officials showed up at Mr. Undead's apartment in response to complaints from neighbors about an offensive odor. Not one, but two, city officials who both examined the premises and not only failed to notice the corpse under the overturned couch, but determined that the stink was coming from the toilet. Nice going, fellas.Lauriehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00193914393764227805noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1762806798827033602.post-70386400262585643462010-04-26T23:18:00.002-04:002011-07-16T00:20:06.471-04:00Boob-Quake Day?<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjhu4Clk2L5XeTDF9zJQ7jpGEjDsFDXK3piQDuHWwE3jgyZZyFlPhIEsOQX4VW0lj4SKOsLlQmXVeVv8nabI9dSd3FgpJlR5sbVljtWT3bmCL_nooAWObY_CVYAJJ31zTscQy-wj1ik5lE/s1600/body+boobs.aspx" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" height="200" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjhu4Clk2L5XeTDF9zJQ7jpGEjDsFDXK3piQDuHWwE3jgyZZyFlPhIEsOQX4VW0lj4SKOsLlQmXVeVv8nabI9dSd3FgpJlR5sbVljtWT3bmCL_nooAWObY_CVYAJJ31zTscQy-wj1ik5lE/s200/body+boobs.aspx" width="177" /></a></div>I heard on the radio today that it was officially declared Boob-Quake Day. Apparently this new holiday is the result of a worldwide protest against some Iranian bozo who claims that women who don't dress modestly anger the gods-in-charge and, consequently, cause earthquakes.<br />
<br />
As a result, women around the globe - or, at least, around the Harvard Coop - deliberately wore low-cut tops and no bras so that their boobs would hang out as a collective "f*ck you" directed at the aforementioned bozo.<br />
<br />
I like the idea of various body parts linked to natural disasters and the combined results thereby being declared national holidays. How about Ass-Fire Day? Or Dick-Hurricane Day, which men would celebrate by blowing free in the wind. Or Thunder-Balls Day, perhaps in conjunction with Thunder-Thighs Day.<br />
<br />
Bunker Hill Day sounds pretty boring now, doesn't it?Lauriehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00193914393764227805noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1762806798827033602.post-63379083675504973682010-04-24T18:56:00.002-04:002011-07-15T23:52:50.920-04:00Space haiku<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjwfuo313hc1-MrEbI1OkuydHK6ZDo-v_0IqXoeQ9SMTiRARUdmYvEKW-wYrj2nn50Hdu9j7BBB9bd4MKY3MeNoD0VjHKRAWtyS-_oR6NWDQLA99SBZKNRBfgkVku5MQqMLn6_wgPLhBdM/s1600/phallic+face.aspx" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" height="110" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjwfuo313hc1-MrEbI1OkuydHK6ZDo-v_0IqXoeQ9SMTiRARUdmYvEKW-wYrj2nn50Hdu9j7BBB9bd4MKY3MeNoD0VjHKRAWtyS-_oR6NWDQLA99SBZKNRBfgkVku5MQqMLn6_wgPLhBdM/s200/phallic+face.aspx" width="200" /></a></div><br />
<div style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif;">Spending bucks on space </div><div style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif;">hey, launch those phallic missiles </div><div style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif;">or just compare size</div><div style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif;"><br />
</div><div style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif;">Drink your Tang through straws</div><div style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif;">e<span id="goog_1763162093"></span><span id="goog_1763162094"></span>at those fake chocolate thingys</div><span style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif;">pee into a tube</span><br />
<div style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif;"><br />
</div><div style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif;"></div><div style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif;">If we spend enough</div><div style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif;">we can build new colonies</div><div style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif;">when we've f*cked up Earth</div>Lauriehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00193914393764227805noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1762806798827033602.post-24209847759588721442010-04-18T17:35:00.006-04:002010-04-18T17:40:59.984-04:00Thong Runs AmokSo a woman has been attacked by her underwear. Personally, I've always been apprehensive about wearing underwear that sports any form of hard object near vital parts that could pop off, ricochet against said parts and disappear into the abyss. Perhaps she was lucky it hit her in the eye.<br />
<br />
Apparently, the injured woman is suing Victoria's Secret, where she bought the offending thong. I can't help but wonder if she considered the ramifications before arriving at that decision. Did she not realize that, from this point on, her name will forever be associated with homicidal lingerie, and she will be the object of countless Jay Leno jokes and skits on Saturday Night Live? What will happen the next time she interviews for a new job? "Hey, aren't you the woman who sued Victoria's Secret for selling you homicidal underwear?" Might be difficult for her to ever be taken seriously again.<br />
<br />
Of course, it could have been worse. At least it didn't get stuck in an orifice and have to be surgically removed.<br />
<br />
<span id="goog_1007969811"></span><span id="goog_1007969812"></span><br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgjGnY5J5nXF9_K8kEdF5ySv9OOs8WVq_BdHUQeHuP7pOTa50b3E-zs0GSVvSwPDx_opSyHBEcKtRtVOfDT-FaFAqHFIRd2USGnNpinPEE4tFdFFIa6T-mS97BNgCi4Un_EWLSCNxNMHj4/s1600/thong.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="200" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgjGnY5J5nXF9_K8kEdF5ySv9OOs8WVq_BdHUQeHuP7pOTa50b3E-zs0GSVvSwPDx_opSyHBEcKtRtVOfDT-FaFAqHFIRd2USGnNpinPEE4tFdFFIa6T-mS97BNgCi4Un_EWLSCNxNMHj4/s200/thong.jpg" width="158" /></a></div>Lauriehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00193914393764227805noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1762806798827033602.post-23803455126505247562010-04-10T21:51:00.007-04:002010-04-10T22:12:53.336-04:00More Haiku - In the Park<div style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif;"><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"></div>Flowers are blooming</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"></div><span style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif;">drunk couple yelling curses </span><br />
<span style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif;">I hurry along.</span><br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEglVuEIyY9iu3D11VTzd24Y9otjzaCRFKBe1vDoTce226MB5tGffoweB0aYHhcyEOCjNCoQieH9w9VuwpDYANP33wxlXV1k6PqOU4d63yQmE2prYFUhw_suNZp-iaG35Bu618ZZxOvgczQ/s1600/geese2.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" height="131" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEglVuEIyY9iu3D11VTzd24Y9otjzaCRFKBe1vDoTce226MB5tGffoweB0aYHhcyEOCjNCoQieH9w9VuwpDYANP33wxlXV1k6PqOU4d63yQmE2prYFUhw_suNZp-iaG35Bu618ZZxOvgczQ/s200/geese2.jpg" width="200" /></a></div><br />
<div style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif;">Geese flock on the field</div><div style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif;">they come close to me, honking</div><span style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif;">Don't make eye contact.</span><br />
<br />
<div style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif;">High school football team</div><div style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif;">their coach shouts insults at them</div><span style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif;">sounds like an asshole</span><br />
<br />
<span style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif;">Couple making out</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif;">roll around in a blanket</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif;">I step over them. </span><br />
<span style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif;"><br />
</span>Lauriehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00193914393764227805noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1762806798827033602.post-30890138980275881142010-03-21T21:08:00.003-04:002010-03-21T21:21:25.004-04:00Spring Haiku<div style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif;"><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgkzEUg7Iwxz6JTyPwQ-BjvIvEhmpFBE47iPt5_9F6H3OTdxotj0h87E76c6ETEJVt9S5UREGwwBBY_kI-HiitcUeqeWTGEQY2-r-05UQ7qvtJ5xmWWdVe33tZEIR1wP-KbCBOw4NzKXjM/s1600-h/smell.jpeg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" height="145" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgkzEUg7Iwxz6JTyPwQ-BjvIvEhmpFBE47iPt5_9F6H3OTdxotj0h87E76c6ETEJVt9S5UREGwwBBY_kI-HiitcUeqeWTGEQY2-r-05UQ7qvtJ5xmWWdVe33tZEIR1wP-KbCBOw4NzKXjM/s200/smell.jpeg" width="200" /></a></div><br />
The air is warmer </div><div style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif;">nose finally stops running</div><span style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif;">ditch the Kleenex stash</span><br />
<br />
<div style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif;">the fragrance of spring</div><div style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif;">up and down Commonwealth Ave.</div><div style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif;">scent of thawed dog shit</div><div style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif;"><br />
</div><div style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif;">sunflowers in yards</div><div style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif;">nod their heads impatiently</div><div style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif;">it's horny season</div><div style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif;"><br />
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgHS8lJNTuitJi3xbbEBTbh-6DkaQgXGxWc4_TC62W_svOcvW1TthEDaiK8R_s4GD3k-uZuXoBKScwOk-pJFnNMefQ1xXp0YHa5PzNsX8w-7BDsPRo1XeYGv9mYeZbswcSo7VWsLCVnlyQ/s1600-h/Water+lilies.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="150" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgHS8lJNTuitJi3xbbEBTbh-6DkaQgXGxWc4_TC62W_svOcvW1TthEDaiK8R_s4GD3k-uZuXoBKScwOk-pJFnNMefQ1xXp0YHa5PzNsX8w-7BDsPRo1XeYGv9mYeZbswcSo7VWsLCVnlyQ/s200/Water+lilies.jpg" width="200" /></a></div><br />
</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"></div><div style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif;"><br />
</div><div style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif;"><br />
</div>Lauriehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00193914393764227805noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1762806798827033602.post-31157989013978824662010-03-15T17:23:00.003-04:002011-07-16T00:22:32.992-04:00Niche Market for The Bean-Obsessed?<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjPZIbFHxTQLIQH_VXbdHIg24JkFQY_InU0yAE-DVZwp4Fevi3fegtsPJob4GeSQLBkA_G1fQOCK1cZy0YEefN3d9sEl1Sl_kPMr_ar8gL5UFuKXuU4ISLF7VPw-jBtGsSChUYA-YCKnu8/s1600-h/Bean.jpeg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" height="152" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjPZIbFHxTQLIQH_VXbdHIg24JkFQY_InU0yAE-DVZwp4Fevi3fegtsPJob4GeSQLBkA_G1fQOCK1cZy0YEefN3d9sEl1Sl_kPMr_ar8gL5UFuKXuU4ISLF7VPw-jBtGsSChUYA-YCKnu8/s200/Bean.jpeg" width="200" /></a></div><span style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif;">We as a culture have become obsessed with minutiae. I blame the seemingly endless stream of information floating into every </span><span style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif;">orifice via a myriad of technologies. </span><span style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif;">There are countless websites on every topic we could ever want to, or wish we couldn't, imagine. </span><span style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif;">Sites like Twitter and Facebook allow us to record for posterity every insignificant detail of our lives - "I just took a piss, and it was slightly green. Maybe I'm eating too much broccoli."</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif;"><br />
</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif;">There are now over 500 channels on our TVs (remember when there were only 7? Yeah, you know you do). This means that network execs have to come up with a vast number of programming topics to fit into a rapidly multiplying amount of "niche markets," which essentially means a target audience for topics that are more and more narrow, to the point where any specific subject may interest maybe three people, and bore the crap out of the rest of us. </span><br />
<br />
<span style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif;">Yesterday while recovering from the rooster flu or whatever the hell other barnyard animal from which it was originally</span> <span style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif;">derived, I was channel-surfing and came across a documentary about beans. This was not even about the health benefits, which would have been somewhat interesting though not particularly new, but rather the history of bean growth in America. I think it was on the History Channel. I guess they ran out of material about World War I and decided to go with veggie folklore.</span><br />
<div style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif;"><br />
</div><span style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif;">Of course, this couldn't compare in sheer entertainment value to what was showing on the National Geographic Channel - "Sizing Up Sperm." This apparently involved the simulation of conception with mountain-climbers clad in white, doggedly scaling up a series of precipices, determined to reach their destination even if it meant that either they, or all of their comrades, would be wiped out along the way.</span><br />
<br />
<span style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif;">Not that I'm uninterested in sperm, per se. But some topics are better as concrete experience. </span>Lauriehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00193914393764227805noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1762806798827033602.post-53013662442544811142010-03-07T16:12:00.000-05:002010-03-07T16:12:42.294-05:00Scary Wacko GuyThere are some pretty scary guys out there in Single Land.<br />
<br />
I have a sort of philosophy statement on my online dating profile that states my aversion to getting or giving thanks-but-no-thanks rejection messages on the site, as I explored in some detail in an earlier post, "Get a Pair." I mean, if you get an email from someone you've never met and you're not interested, it should be perfectly acceptable to just not respond. To reply to everyone, or to expect it, is pretty unrealistic, and if you're that sensitive you probably need at least a few more months of therapy before participating in online dating. <br />
<br />
Apparently, Scary Wacko Guy doesn't think so. Scary Wacko Guy believes that sending a message on a dating site to someone you don't know is similar to (I'm paraphrasing) making a meal that has been "lovingly prepared," and that "expressions of love should be acknowledged."<br />
<br />
Excuse me, expressions of love? We've never met. Definite stalker potential there. And as far as emailing a stranger being similar to "making a meal that has been lovingly prepared," I'd say that a more accurate food-related comparison would be leaving a muffin in a Dunkin' Donuts bag sitting on a table.<br />
<br />
I also received an email from someone who mentions in his profile that he's looking for someone who "wants to spend every minute she's not at work" with him. Apparently he actually <b>wants</b> a clingly, wacko stalker girl.<br />
<br />
Good luck with that.Lauriehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00193914393764227805noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1762806798827033602.post-67826933329976666082010-02-26T18:25:00.000-05:002010-02-26T18:25:02.140-05:00Hypochondriac's HaikuI wake with chest pain<br />
I hurry to the doctor<br />
Woohoo! It's just gas<br />
<br />
I wait an hour<br />
if I haven't keeled over<br />
I think I'm okay<br />
<br />
Now my arm is numb<br />
I try hard not to panic<br />
oops - I slept on itLauriehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00193914393764227805noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1762806798827033602.post-22673428904512774582010-02-21T15:20:00.001-05:002010-02-21T19:13:54.913-05:00Tiger HaikuYou apologized<br />
for screwing lots of women<br />
I'm supposed to care?Lauriehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00193914393764227805noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1762806798827033602.post-81990367298559985312010-02-19T18:23:00.000-05:002010-02-19T18:23:07.529-05:00Olympics HaikuI watch men's skating<br />
thinking of how amazing<br />
they look in those tights<br />
<br />
Winning that medal <br />
Must be the ultimate high<br />
Next - ads for toothpaste<br />
<br />
You ski with sprained limbs<br />
Trying to ignore the pain<br />
You can scream laterLauriehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00193914393764227805noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1762806798827033602.post-19491064355138443672010-02-16T22:44:00.000-05:002010-02-16T22:44:43.947-05:00Hitchcock HaikuBirds flock in a bush<br />
a Tippi Hedren moment<br />
on my way to workLauriehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00193914393764227805noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1762806798827033602.post-55047945481815336222010-02-14T21:21:00.003-05:002010-02-14T21:23:08.359-05:00Boston Winter HaikuWe freeze our balls off<br />
lawn chair saves a parking space<br />
winter's a cold bitch<br />
<br />
Slip on the black ice<br />
maybe no one saw me fall<br />
I try to look cool<br />
<br />
Bare trees black and sharp<br />
Snow floating down from gray skies<br />
covering dog turdsLauriehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00193914393764227805noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1762806798827033602.post-81985564476775119822010-02-13T21:46:00.000-05:002010-02-13T21:46:32.403-05:00Morning after haikuHe snores next to me<br />
Not sure how I feel today <br />
Should I sneak out now?<br />
<br />
His body's so warm<br />
I rest my hand on his heart<br />
Wake up for Round 5<br />
<br />
I wake and he's gone<br />
jumbled thoughts swirl in my head<br />
then - toilet flushesLauriehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00193914393764227805noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1762806798827033602.post-11121757779942745932010-02-07T14:53:00.005-05:002010-02-07T15:12:31.488-05:00Valentine HaikuValentine's coming<br />Candy companies rejoice<br />Chocolate overdose<br /><br />a day for couples<br />the rest of us grit our teeth<br />and try not to puke<br /><br />Cupid shoots arrows<br />oops - he misses his target<br />latte springs a leakLauriehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00193914393764227805noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1762806798827033602.post-85542425490626347392010-02-05T23:52:00.010-05:002010-02-06T00:29:47.071-05:00A Thong for GrandmaI saw a commercial recently for a nursing home that claims to provide "successful aging." As opposed to unsuccessful aging? What would unsuccessful aging consist of? I suppose if you keel over and die before you get too far into the aging process, that could be considered unsuccessful aging. Or being brain-dead would probably qualify as well. <br /><br />Maybe unsuccessful aging is not actually managing to age at all, which doesn't really seem like a bad thing, unless you're a vampire or have had so much Botox you can't move any of the muscles in your face. It could also refer to pretending you're not aging, like if you continue to wear a thong and attempt to seduce 25-year-olds even after your boobs have dropped into your shoes.<br /><br />Or maybe unsuccessful aging is when you start wearing kneehose with miniskirts and plastic rain bonnets. When you start walking around under an umbrella when it's not raining, and wearing a coat when it's eighty degrees, you know you're in big trouble.Lauriehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00193914393764227805noreply@blogger.com0