5 Unrelated Facts and 5 Haikus

• Max has been referring to his "Netherlands" as his "boing loings."
• My dog is getting fat.
• I love Man vs. Food. It's part of my watch-people-eating-instead-of-eating diet.
• Christian gives shockingly wise love advice to his compadres.
• Ryan likes apps on his Blackberry.

Here are five haikus dedicated to those 5 facts.

Boing Loings

Call them what you want

But make no mistake, my friend

No one wants them kicked.

Fat Doggy

It hurts my feelings

The way you look at my dog

And judge her. Stop that.

Weird Diet

I'll watch you eat that.

I'll imagine how it tastes

While you gain the weight

Dr. Love

He might be a kid

But don't ignore his advice

If you want the girl.

Apps

Fandango, TripIt,

Open Table, Weather Bug,

The man has got apps.

Abstract Thoughts at Almost Midnight

Here's the thing about me and Life.
I work really hard on my relationship with Life.
I pay attention to it,
Make it cookies with toasted coconut,
Listen to its self-centered stories,
Send it "just because" cards in the mail,
Invite it over for dinner.
OK, I admit it: I am sort of a suck-up to Life.
I totally dig Life.
Even though it mumbles sometimes and walks too fast.
(Wait up, Life! I got short legs!)
Every now and then I think I understand Life.
Life smiles at me and tells me a funny joke about mustard,
And for five minutes I'm blissful.
I'm like, Life and I are so tight. 
We totally get each other.
And then out of nowhere,
Life dumps its Diet Coke in my lap,
Grabs my ankles,
And drops me on my head.
And I'm like, Whoa! What just happened?
What the hell was that for?
Then Life just shrugs and walks away.
And I hold my head in my Diet Coke lap,
Wondering how many batches of cookies it will take
To get Life to like me again.

5-Minute Poetry at Almost Midnight

Sometimes I feel heavy.
A heavy heavy that is different from the heavy I feel
when I eat too many chips with salsa
before my two tacos
and refried beans
and guacamole
and a few bites of my kid's quesadilla,
making the walk to the car from the Mexican restaurant
a series of remorseful, thick steps.
The heavy I mean is the kind of heavy
that wraps around my heart,
sinking it down into my gut
like a rusty anchor.
It pulls down my shoulders, my chin,
the corners of my mouth,
and leaks the inside out in tiny, teary streams.
Sometimes I feel heavy
because I am cruel.
Sometimes I feel heavy
because life is cruel.
And sometimes I feel heavy
because someone else is feeling heavy too.
Heaviness is contagious that way.

Deep Thought Poetry

A "little tiff" means a petty quarrel. 

It also means a petite person named Tiffany 

(or a child named Tiffany). 

It should interest you to know that when I

at five-foot-one-and-a-half-inches tall

get into a petty quarrel with someone, 

I immediately have the upper hand
(being a little Tiff in a little tiff). 

I don't take that kind of power lightly, 

so I avoid getting into petty quarrels. 

And I also wear heels a lot.

If I ever give up peace-making

and pursue a career as a rapper, 

I will obviously be known as Li'l Tiff

My debut album: Petty Quarrels

Or, perhaps: A Slight Fit of Annoyance

Either way, it's gonna be fly, yo!

I know, I know, stick to writing catalogs.

A Fascinating Rumble

I have important things to get done today,
Things that people are expecting from me.
So important, in fact,
That I have grounded myself from distractions--
No TV, no music, no phone.
(Sometimes I treat myself like a teenager.)
I settle down to work,
To crank out amazing things,
To be prolific and clever,
But I keep getting distracted
By a rumbling noise in my gut.
It's shockingly loud.
Don't worry, I'm not hungry.
My belly is full of shrimp wonton soup,
And a modest tear of a giant chocolate chip cookie,
As well as a full glass of water.
The sounds, though, are amazing.
Rumbling, rupturing, resounding.
Epic, echoing, enchanting.
No pain at all, just the rumble of heavy bass,
Like that gangster car at the stoplight behind you.
Hey, abdomen, what is going on in there?
What's all the ruckus?
Turn it down for crying out loud!
I have important things to do!
Do you think they will understand when I tell them?
I'm sorry I didn't get my work done,
There was a fascinating rumble in my digestive tract. 

It's Back! Winter Angst Poetry Contest

If you're like me, you're on the verge of abandoning your current life to pursue homelessness on a tropical island. Winter is starting to get to me. You know, like psycho-logically.

How many more times can I peel layers of frozen skin off my tender eyelids?
How many more times can I climb inside the preheating oven for warmth without it affecting my health?
How many more times can I pull off the sweater over sweater over sweater with scarf and hoodie and parka and beanie look? With snowpants? (And that's before I head outside.)
How many more times can I throw things at my TV while watching The Real Housewives of Orange County?

In the past, I've found that one of the only ways to combat winter fatigue is with cathartic poetry. So, I'm bringing back the Winter Angst Poetry Competition! (Hold for applause.) Sharpen your pencils and your wit, and waste part of your day trying to amuse me!

The last time I held this competition, I was overwhelmed with the fantastic response--young and old alike filled my inbox with frigid, bitter writing that warmed my heart and made me feel not so alone, bonded together in a worthy cause: winter angst. Ready to play?

Here are the rules:
1. Send your original poetry to tiffany{at}wouldbewritersguild{dot}com. It can be any form of poetry you like—long, short, rhyme-y, moody, whatever (but remember that I’m partial to funny).
2. Make sure your poetry is ridden with hatred for winter. I don’t want to read about cute snowmen or happy, furry woodland creatures. Or the beauty of moonlight on fresh fallen snow. Blecht.
3. Seriously, don’t try to put some positive spin on all this frigid air. I’m warning you.
4. If you are a native of Florida, California, Arizona, or Hawaii you are automatically disqualified. (Well, okay, you’re not disqualified but you probably have no chance at seriously competing. Especially against a Canadian.)
5. Entries must be received by midnight, February 10th.
6. Please, no more than two entries per person.

And now for the prizes(!):

First prize: One TWENTY-FIVE THOUSAND DOLLAR GIFT CARD TO TARGET! Wait—did I say “THOUSAND” right there? I meant “ORDINARY.”
Second prize: One super awesome Anti-Winter mix CD!
Third prize: Three magnets from my fridge! Woot! Woot!
Honorable mention: One mention in the post. A really honorable one.

Fine print: Judging will be completely subjective and based on my own whims.

So, take that, winter! Spread the word and let the poetry begin!