In five syllables, no more, no less, describe the worst movie you can think of. Bonus points if you have to show off your Google skills because you can’t remember the name of it and all you can come up with is that it features Roz Russell and Sandra Dee. Turns out it was some tripe called Rosie! Exclamation point the producers’ idea, not mine.“Auntie Mame leavings.”
In seven syllables, no more, no less, describe your worst date. Bonus points if it was sordid. Subtract points if it sounds too much like an overweight fifteen year old Goth girl.“He pushed my head down. I puked.”
In five syllables, no more, no less, describe the worst job you ever had. Extra bonus points if it consists of Grim. Taxi dancer. Miss Janey, I’m talking to you. I had a miserable spell where I sat all alone in an empty office, handing out the keys to various hell holes for rent around New Orleans. One Lady came back and complained there was no window in the kitchen, I pretended to sympathize and said something like “Yes it would be nasty to have no light and air in there.” She replied “No, hone, you don unnerstan. Dere’s a hole for de winna but ain’t no winna in it.”“Slum lord in training.”Put it all together and you have a haiku of life’s low points.
breaking the tripod
unwelcome ticket pro quo
return dirty pants
Heh, bet that has you guessing.
Worst Movie Ever was the only movie I can remember walking out on--mostly because of nausea/headache from the rolling, bumping non-stop handheld camera shots but also because the story really sucked--"Breaking the Waves." (breaking the tripod)
The Worst Date Ever was back in college, although we never actually made it to the "date" part of the evening. He had tickets to a jazz concert. I wasn't interested in a romantic/sexual relationship, and was too dense to realize that he was. After I'd accepted what I thought was a friendly invitation from a fellow jazz lover, I overheard him telling his buddies that he expected to "score" that night. Being the unassertive little simp I was in those days, I couldn't bring myself to express my apprehension until we were standing in line for the concert and I was getting more nauseated by the minute at the prospect of fending him off all night. I left before the concert started. (unwelcome ticket pro quo)
Worst Job Ever was also from my college days (interesting to think that my life has only progressed uphill since then), working in the Boys department at Sears. People used to try to return clothing that not only had obviously been worn, but had obviously been worn for months without being washed. (return dirty pants)
I'm tagging Shefaly at La Vie Quotidienne, materfamilias (once she's done regaling us with tales of Paris and Portugal), and La Belette Rouge, whom I suspect of harboring some mad haiku skillz.