Haiku. Which I Keep Typing as Haiky, Dammit.

Our dear Diane sent us this charming haiku as a comment of her recent visit:

Orange kitty hair

on my grey flannel bathrobe:

Saki's legacy.

Isn't that sweet? It also serves to remind me that I have meant to revive my Auto Haiku Challenge as a way of raising the tone of this joint. I created the challenge awhile ago, here it is, along with my examples:

In five syllables, no more, no less, describe the worst movie you can think of. Bonus points if you have to show off your Google skills because you can’t remember the name of it and all you can come up with is that it features Roz Russell and Sandra Dee. Turns out it was some tripe called Rosie! Exclamation point the producers’ idea, not mine.

“Auntie Mame leavings.”

In seven syllables, no more, no less, describe your worst date. Bonus points if it was sordid. Subtract points if it sounds too much like an overweight fifteen year old Goth girl.

“He pushed my head down. I puked.”

In five syllables, no more, no less, describe the worst job you ever had. Extra bonus points if it consists of Grim. Taxi dancer. Miss Janey, I’m talking to you. I had a miserable spell where I sat all alone in an empty office, handing out the keys to various hell holes for rent around New Orleans. One Lady came back and complained there was no window in the kitchen, I pretended to sympathize and said something like “Yes it would be nasty to have no light and air in there.” She replied “No, hon, you don unnerstan. Dere’s a hole for de winna but ain’t no winna in it.”

“Slum lord in training.”

Put it all together and you have a haiku of life’s low points.

“Auntie Mame leavings.
He pushed my head down. I puked.
Slum lord in training.”

Now get to it, slacker bitches, report back and pass this along as a meme. Winners of the best response will be allowed to touch houseboy Valdemar Gunderus's Special Place.