What is a lifeku?

A lifeku is a haiku about daily life. For those who are unfamiliar with haiku, it is a form of Japanese poetry usually about nature, "profound," and formatted in 3 lines of 5 syllables, 7 syllables, and 5 syllables. Feel free to check out some famous haikus if you still don't get it.

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Saturday, March 21

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I'm a positive, optimist person. I would even say that I am overall happy, and some people find that irritating. Of course by "some people" I mean "Parisian people" since it violates Rule #3 of Being Parisian, which is: Never smile. Ever. But even amidst my happy existence, I come across people who are like me times 800 million and are therefore capable of showing extreme excitement about the most mundane subjects or achievements.

Jubilant woman
Nobody is ever that
Enthusiastic

Friday, March 20

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Today's lifeku goes out to someone in particular, who made not read it right away... But when you do, you know who you are:

Overgrown man-boy
Do not start fights with strangers
You’ll injure yourself

Thursday, March 19

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Even though I written this lifeku a little while ago, I felt like it was appropriate to post after yesterdays Reader Submission about too much information online. Sometimes, people can be just way too open for their own good, to the point where it becomes weird and unhealthy and you really want them to just stop talking. I remember, when I first moved to France, I did a two-year make-up school in order to have a student visa. During this time, I learned how to make it look like someone took a blow-torch to your face, give perfect pin curls, and other random stuff that was pretty fun. I also had this client, a choreographer, who will remain totally namesless just in case she is still stalking me and reads this blog. She was American, from Los Angeles to be specific, and immediately took a liking to me because I was American. I met her on a DVD shoot where I was one of 3 interns for a chief make-up artist from MAC and soon after she began calling me, asking me to do her make-up privately. At some point, she began to feel a little too comfortable and started telling me all sorts of really personal details about her marriage, her reproductive organs, and the current state of her body while I would do her make-up. After a while, it escalated, and she started calling me just to talk about her problems, like I was her therapist or something. I would put the phone on speaker and set it on the table and she would just go on and on for a couple of hours. Eventually, when I started avoiding her because she weirded me out so much, she didn't take it too well. She even kept calling for a year. Now, I avoid her studio like the plague, even though it's only a couple of minutes from my apartment... which brings us to:

Hey oversharer
I didn’t need to know that
Keep it to yourself

Wednesday, March 18: Reader Submission

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Today's Reader Submission comes from Laurie, who makes an extremely valid point about too much information in cyberspace. I try to limit the info about myself on the net, for example I only allow photos where I look good. All others must be immediately untagged and deleted. But, I digresss... some people feel the need to put everything online, from the details of their break-up or the famed "it's complicated" Facebook relationship status to photos of themselves drunk and wasted in compromising positions. People, it's just not necessary. Laurie explains:

"Sometimes, I'm afraid that I'm the only person left who doesn't feel the need to plaster my entire personal life, interests and every event I attend all over the internet. I hate going online and knowing every little detail about people I barely know or care about. Maybe if they were mildly entertaining, it would be less annoying.
"

Self-centered a-hole
I don't care about your life
You are so boring

Stranger don't tell me
About last night or your job
Makes me feel creepy



*Do you have a lifeku about something that annoys you? Send it to dailylifeku@gmail.com!

Tuesday, March 17

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I just spent one full week with no internet. Zero. None. Zilch. I basically wanted to die. My internet stopped working one day, at which point I made a phone call (which I then did not know would precede many, many other phone calls) to my internet service provider, which would be Orange. Also known as: Quasi-Fascist-Anti-Humanitarian-Internet-Mongers. QFAHIN. Or something. First they gave me one explanation, then another, then another, then no internet and some more phone calls later, yet another. And of course none of the 15 people I spoke to actually knew what was wrong.

7 unconnected days and 100 hours of Orange's hold music later, it turns out that my account was mistakenly closed. Indefinitely. Why? Because, like a total idiot, I paid my bill online. This was obviously too much for the computers at Orange, who provide internet service I remind you, because their computers didn't take my payment into account. Wait, let me re-phrase that: Orange was more than happy to physically take the money out of my bank account, they just didn't register that they had done that, because they're awesome. So for 3 months in a row, as I was thinking how convient it was to pay my bills online, for Orange I was actually not paying. Even though they were taking my money. Really, I love France.

So how did I have to fix the situation? This is where the awesomeness reaches a whole new level, because once an account has been closed, you have to open a new one. Once this process, comparable to a root canal, has been completed it takes UP TO 15 DAYS to re-open the line. There is, of course, nothing that Orange can do about this. Obviously. Because it's not like the line was functioning a couple of days ago or anything. I began to feel like an idiot for having believed the woman who claimed to have put my file "in priority." I even had one guy who said I would receive a text message when the line was open again, and it obviously is because I am posting this right now, but I never received said mysterious text message.

Let me stop right here to handle any questions or concerns you may be having with this ridiculous situation: If you are asking yourself, "Why didn't she just get a new internet service provider instead of waiting the 15 days?" I'll explain why this is not possible. It turns out that ALL OPENINGS OF INTERNET LINES IN FRANCE TAKE UP TO 15 DAYS, no matter what company you are with. And since I had already done 5 days of waiting, I wasn't about to go back to the beginning. You feel me?

Back to resolving my situation... I called again Saturday to have an estimate of when it would come back on, where yet another idiot gave me some more useless gobbelty gook crap of an explanation equating to up to 15 days, but he did offer to give us one month of internet free. After I already paid for the month of March, which is not over by the way, and during which I did not have internet for about 10 days, in order to open the new account. It's times like this where if I didn't have social security and 8 weeks paid vacation, I would totally move back to the States just for the customer service. Anyway, this morning, when a certain someone found themselves at the house with me after a certain accident (more on that later) it seemed that the internet just HAD to work. So we called yet again. First the "service commerciale" and then of course, because one phone call is never enough, the "service technique." Finally, when I got someone who actually knows computers on the phone, we managed to figure out the problem. It turns out that my stupid livebox had reset itself, and I had actually had internet since Friday. As you can imagine, I am far too tired and frustrated to be angry about this. I was just happy when she re-sychronized and my internet magically came back. Naturally my experience inspired a lifeku or two:


French “service technique”
You do not know anything
I hate you so much

Internetless life
Ostracized empty black void
I feel so alone


Most of you have had a similar experience, send your life-without-internet haikus for dailylifeku@gmail.com for next week's Reader Submission.

Monday, March 16

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I was yet again spending a relaxing Saturday morning with my new amazing boyfriend, StumbleUpon Toolbar. It's the best relationship I've ever had... he always has something interesting to say and he listens to my wants and needs. Anyway, I came across this article about the "male girdle" and found myself facing the difficult physical challenge of not throwing up in my mouth while laughing so hard I cry. It's supposed to be the equivalent of Spanx but for men with beer guts... the article goes on to explain the woes of men under the pressure to succeed in bed and at work, and how they deserve "the same products that women have had for years to make [them] feel better."

Oh boo hoo. I feel so sorry for you, men, because you don't have your own line of concealer and cellulite-disguising panty hose. Wait a minute, no I don't, because most of you still manage to get laid on a regular basis, even married, whereas nobody wants to do the nasty with a woman sporting a moustache. That's right, I said it. Women go through all of this preparation crap because men won't sleep with us if we don't. They are revolted by that which naturally occurs on our bodies. However, a fugly ass "man" with a "great personality" or a "sense of humor" will always end up with a woman who is too good for him but has surprisingly low self-esteem. That's the way it is. Think about how men become distinguished with grey hair but a woman who wants to keep the door rotating better run out for a box of Nice and Easy ASAP before people start asking her if she's a grandmother yet.

What is my point? My point is this: after years of shaving, waxing, exfoliating, buffing, smoothing, moisturizing, plucking, powdering, blow drying, and many other verbs ending in -ing, we have earned the right to judge you if you take longer than us to get ready. Your unrealistic vision of us automatically gives us twice the time in the bathroom (or more) with no justification what-so-ever, so when you start buffing and plucking and smoothing we start wondering if you're thinking about switching teams. Men, you want real women? Then don't be s
urprised when we want real men.

Metrosexual
Long prep time isn’t sexy
Take off the mirdle

Sunday Poll: March 15, 2009

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