Haiku Mondays: Peace

Immovable you.
Irresistible me. No
peace. Only detente.


* * *

Yoo hoo, do you haiku? If so, Troll is hosting again this week.
The theme is: peace.

American Idol: El Noche Numero Dos

Scotty McCreery today:

Scotty McCreery tomorrow:

"Who me, worry? Nah, darlin' . . . no worries."

American Idol: Beatle Night

Ashley Sullivan today:

Ashley Sullivan tomorrow:

Haiku Mondays: PERFUME RESULTS

When I posted this week's haiku theme of perfume, I was expecting to get a bunch of mini 5-7-5 paens to, oh, I dunno, actual perfume. The first one you ever spritzed. Or sneaked off your mother's dressing table. Or purchased for a beloved. Or sneezed until your eyes bled.

What I got, however, were eleven-plus haikus covering a variety of scent-sual topics, from dead skunks to sand and sea to lunchroom snacks and sex. Lots of sex. Sex in the sea, on the sand, and even, in a couple instances at least, sex accompanied by snacks. (Although, thankfully, not dead skunks.)

Once again, judging was a daunting task.

Because I have a tight schedule and will be gone most of the day, I'm going to submit a truncated rundown of my reasoning for choosing a winner, but not without first giving each and every one of you a pat on the back for a job well done:

Blowfish:
Submitted his first-ever haiku, a kiss-the-girls-and-make-them sigh ode to fun and frolic with Fishy, which had her looking for the shotgun and the rest of us going, "Ah, hah. That explains why they've been married all these years." Seriously, Fishy. You go around wafting two of the world's great va-va-voom scents, Chanel No. 22 and Joy; what do you expect? It was also a dang good haiku, both in its technique and in its ability to, um, evoke.

Boxer:
Once, Boxer didn't think she could write haiku. Now, she consistently produces some of the most beautiful odes to her native PNW that vividly bring to life the mis-en-scene of her existence. This one paid tribute to elements that perfume her daily life: namely, sand and sea. Lovely.

Buzz:
What happens when women leave their men alone for a day or two? Most of us don't really want to entertain the notion, but in Buzz's case it means he gets to mess around in the kitchen making things he doesn't normally get to eat. And then write a haiku to celebrate. About making chile. And if you don't think that's a neat trick, go back and read it. We know Buzz can cook. He can also write in such as way as to make you wish you had a big bowl of chile right now.

Chickory:
Speaking of mouth-watering. Chickory hit us with two haikus of tremendous skill and nostalgic force: One, the way-back-when-before-we-knew-suntanning-caused-skin-cancer-and-ruined-all-our-fun memory of the smell of teenaged Coppertone-ed slathered bodies on the beach; the other of what was probably the only good smell to ever come out of a schoolroom kitchens—the wafting of baking yeast rolls. She submitted the latter, which actually started my mouth watering when I read it.

Fishy:
When not busy fighting off Blowfish, Fishy is one of our most talented—and prolific—haiku-ers, producing no less than a good half dozen exceptional haikus each and every contest. Fishy waited until the last minute to choose her elegant ode to one of the most famous perfume bottles ever designed. Architectural, indeed. Thanks to Fishy, I just know all y'all are going to rush out and buy yourselves a bottle of Joy. Do it. Now.

Foam:
Simply put: Foam writes great haiku. This one, an ode to dead skunk in the middle of the road, is not only subtly, skillfully alliterative to the point where you don't see a single seam showing unless you look for it, it also punches you in the nose with an actual smell. Which as we all know, is one hell of a poisonous waft of eye-watering proportions. Unless you use it to make a perfume. In which case, you get Patou's Joy.

Karl:
I love this short but sweet ode to springtime—and a reminder that some of the best-smelling perfumes are produced by Mother Nature. Reading it, I was instantly reminded of my favorite past time in spring: Driving through Albuquerque's neighborhoods to catch a whiff of the intermingling of lilac, Spanish broom, and newly watered grass.

Kym:
One of a handful of haikus that dealt directly with bottled perfumes, Kym declares her love of the two perfumes that contribute to her magnetism. And all along, we thought it was just her cooking . . .

Milk River Madman:
Ooooo, clever, clever man writes a clever, clever haiku, in which he wistfully wonders what perfume Ann Coulter douses herself with. Chanel No. 5 or something containing jasmine? Which made me laugh out loud because jasmine, usually such a naughty little hot house flower, is boiled down to a cool, aloof abstract in No. 5, which in the end seems to me exactly what Ms. Coulter's body chemistry would do to that particular flower. Yes. Ann Coulter wears Chanel No. 5. Not that there's anything wrong with that.

Pam:
Like her daughter, Pam also specifically mentioned a series of perfumes in a snappy little double entendre-ed piece singing the praises of certain men's scents (there's that sexy thing again; go figure). All of which 'fumes work for her and also work for her. Clever and funny! Which makes me wonder what would happen if she and Milk River collaborated on a haiku together. Look out!

Troll:
Came in with one of the more mysterious haikus of the challenge, a reach back into his memory banks to describe what I think is a boyhood encounter with his Swedish nanny, a gal whose talent for making cinnamon buns somehow got co-mingled with goodness-knows-what-else (la, la, la, la, la). Yes, he nicked the title of my baking blog, but Troll knows how stick his tongue in his cheek before he embarks on walking the tightrope between flattery and suck-up-edness. In the end, he created one hell of a haiku, one that edged Boxer, Foam, Chickory, and Blowfish out by a hair and everyone else by a hair and a half.

Seriously, he had me at cinnamon and that marvelously mysterious last line that had me walking around all day going, "What are they? What, what, WHAT?!?"

Baker's Math:
Undaunted Baker:
Cinnamon intoxicates!
13 scented sins.

Congrats, Troll. Let me know where I can send your prizes.

Haiku Mondays: PERFUME

One fifty bottles

Amber, gold, and green. How much

Perfume is too much?

* * *

As the winner of last week's Haiku Monday competition, I was given the option of hosting/judging/choosing the theme for this week. This way, we all get to share the judging duties (which are hard!) and our esteemed Haiku Monday originator, Troll, gets to participate as an actual competitor.

So, without further ado, this week's theme is:

PERFUME

I've also added a new rule, which should make judging this go-round a little less stressful: you may write as many haiku as you wish, but please choose only ONE for my judging consideration. Post that one haiku here in the comments section, but do let me know if you're up at your blog with visuals and/or other haiku.

In keeping with the theme, the winner of this week's haiku will be the recipient of three 'fumes from my personal collection. All three are considered unisex scents, which means they can be worn by a man or a woman, and represent a cross section of styles and notes. If you don't personally wear perfume, these can be used as room sprays or to scent your linens. You can even give the dog or cat a spritz or two.

Demeter Fragrance Library Honeysuckle Cologne 1 ounce:
One of the more interesting soliflores (single note floral scents) around, this starts off all sweet and innocent, young love goes to the prom with her Gunny Sax gown and Bonnie Bell Lip Smacker kisses, but then five minutes later, morphs into something carrying a leather riding crop who orders you off the dance floor and onto the back of her BSA, screaming you off into the deep black night while your parents pace the floor mumbling, “But he’s always been such a GOOD boy!”



Lot of five, 1ml spray samples of Thierry Mugler A*Men:
The men’s version of Thierry Mugler’s ground-breaking 1992 Angel for women, A*Men is distinguished by the same first-ever gourmand olfactory accord: a mouthwatering (or barf-inducing, depending on your POV) blend of vanilla, lemon, chocolate, and patchouli. A*Men adds as well a hint of lavender and something metallic, like the taste left in your mouth after you suck on a spoon. But in the end, it’s still more gourmand than barbershop. In fact, the one and only time I ever wore A*Men out in public, a woman sitting in back of me at the theater kept asking, “Donuts; who’s eating donuts?”




Chanel Cristalle EDP- 4ml travel size:
The original Cristalle is a delightfully sunny side up eau de toilette perfect for spritzing on in the heat of summer. This 1994 follow up is something slightly more serious. Top notes include mandarin orange, lemon, and peach, while the middle notes of jasmine and honeysuckle arrive about 30 minutes later, overlain with the earthy edge of basil. The dry down is a classic blend of vetiver, and oakmoss. If there was a signature perfume for the aloof, tall cool blonds of the world, the kind of stiletto-ed, sharp-pressed suited gals that quietly keep their tycoon bosses humming, Cristalle EDP would be it.

* * *

So, go forth and haiku. Entries will be accepted until midnight EST tomorrow and I'll announce a winner sometime on Tuesday.

American Idol Snark Station: Group Week

I don't understand the purpose of group week. At all. I'm one of those people who thinks it sucks that there's no "I" in team, and whenever I've been part of a group project I've ended up doing one of two things:

1. Grabbing the reins and doing all the work myself.
2. Slacking off and daydreaming about the next day's outfits while someone else does all the work.

That's not to say I can't work for or under someone. I take direction quite happily (and, in fact, welcome it) and am totally capable of sussing out and meeting all terms of whatever work contract I agree to. It's just that I don't like collaborating on a project where everyone contributes their ideas to one big pot, thinking that what will emerge is an oh-so-much-better sum of the original parts but which instead just turns out to be watered down and dishwater grey.

So American Idol group week always makes me squirm. Even more so last night with all the stage mommies hovering over their fifteen-year-olds and giving them direction, which one of the contestants rightly pointed out gives those spayshul little snowflakes an unfair advantage.

At any rate, it all sounded like bad karaoke to Moi, so I got nothing to say except shame that the dude half of the busted up couple went home because I like his voice. Ain't his fault the two girlz made him sing Cee Lo Green when he clearly wasn't up for it.

Oh, and that kid who sounds like Randy Travis? Let's take bets on how long he lasts . . .

Movie Clip Wednesdays: Favorite Broadway Play Adapted to Film

It's true: everything you need to know about life, you really can learn from Shakespeare. Hamlet, for one, whose stern admonishments against the twin dangers of youth—slack-minded indecision and rash revenge—ring as true today as they did 400 and some odd years ago. I think I've read Hamlet a good half dozen times, seen it on stage once, and watched just about every silver screen version made, from Olivier's on down to this one, director Michael Almereyda's modernized cautionary tale for the dawn of the techno-era.



Okay, so Hamlet wasn't technically a film produced exclusively for Broadway, but it was and has been a Broadway production on and off over the years, most notably back in 1964, I think, with Richard Burton in the title role and most recently, a short run with Jude Law, which I was going to fly to NYC to see, but couldn't get tickets.

Anyway. I'm not much of a fan of Broadway musicals per se, so this is my MCW and I'm sticking to it.

If you want to play along, or just visit those who are, head over to the blogesstress who started it all, Ms. Boxer. It's her first day back after exactly one year of handing duties over to the ever-capable-but-probably-exhausted Milk River Madman.