Nothing in this world
bugs me more in the morning.
Friggin' car alarms.
My walk into work
should be filled with peace and calm.
Every damn morning.
Cross my heart and hope
to die, I'll key his damn car.
You see if I don't.
Oh, Figgy Newtons,
you are to me a god-send.
Lunch is not 'til twelve.
He's locked in the fridge.
Serves him right for climbing in.
Idiot damn cat.
Close your e-mail, please.
I let him back out again,
after five minutes.
No damage done there,
and maybe next time he'll think
before he's nosey.
If The Sopranos
gets no better this season
I'll quit. It's a shame.
And someone tell me
WHY Sex in the City was
just a mere six eps?
I can't get the darn
ad for Michelina's bowls
out of my poor head.
All ad guys that use
the Macarena to sell
need to be punished.
I dream nightly of
pulling out all their toenails,
making them eat 'em.
Or even better,
making them all dance naked
to that stupid song.
At the Superbowl,
while thousands of people point
and laugh their ass off.
I won't buy the food
because of their stupid ad.
It backfired on 'em.
Limericks are fun
but they're harder to keep clean.
Sticking with Haikus.
"Let's have fun at work!"
We had to kick off a team.
It should come easy.
No one counted on
the stuffy engineers who
have forgotten how.
We could teach them how
to have fun, but I suspect
we will quit instead.
Meetings were held, to
stonewalling audiences.
A poll was taken.
It's a sad, sad day
when the common vote is to
work work work, not play.
Thanks to Archibael
who reminded me I'm dumb.
No "e" in
Shiny.
Applied for a job
that will forward my career.
Crossing my fingers.
Writing in Haiku
is harder than it may seem.
I think I'll stop now.
