Haikus are HAI-larious. Ouch.

I'm going to haiku out some of my thoughts as the day goes by, hopefully the simplicity of the form will help me clear my mind and focus on the important things, achieve peace, etc. If you don't know what a haiku is, refer to the above link and tell your second grade teacher you're very disappointed in them.

These fucking potholes
these motherfucking potholes
they suck camelfroth.

Okay, maybe this will work better if I take a deep breath before I right these. Let me try again.

Who made this sad, sad
croquetta, they should be shamed.
Hot sauce, please.

That's better I guess.

This computer is
slower than Forrest Gump was
at mathematics.

Ice Cube will headline
The Juggalo Gathering.
Where is your God now?

Why accountants? Why?
Can I have your degree please?
You use it for shit.

This is my stapler.
Because I am holding it,
and staples hurt. Bad.

My workspace is not,
however tiny or sad,
not your trashcan, ass.

I just got to use
"ass-rabbit" in an e-mail
at work. Yes, I smiled.

This old elevator
hasn't learned the newest tricks.
No more stops, suckers.

He had scowled so hard
his jawbone and chest and fused
together : hero.

A thirty day hold
on a forty dollar check
stingy-ass bastards.

My hair is longer
than that of my poor mother.
My boss is amused.

Making checks out for
420 stops being fun
after days and days.

Shredders are still great.
Vrrooom, shhhh vavavashashhhhhhhhhhhh
Ah, get me clean pants.

Certified mail is
expensive, annoying, green.
Boss is the devil.

Brutal Brutal Raw.
Brutal Brutal Brutal Raw.
Raw Raw Brutal. Raw.

Nothing to do takes
a hellish toll on my feet.
Pace to look busy.

A good tin-can phone
would help us out. Oh, hey! Wait!
We have a real one.

Woosh. Glad that's over. One more.

Haikus have dumb rules.
Hippies, eight year olds and hacks,
please quit writing them.

Yup. I'm officially a candidate for hypocrite of the year award. Try not to think about those proceedings unless a migraine you seek.