Put on Your Big Coat, We’re Going Tubing!

Happy Merry
SIX WORD
Saturday!

(Nobody, I repeat nobody, brings in the Sunday morning newspaper like Sam Elliot does. He should have at least gotten a nomination for his John Riggs role (Prancer, 1989). What were they thinking?! That’s it. They just weren’t thinking at all...)

Holiday eye candy* hits the spot!

TODAY, MY DAUGHTER Puppet and I continue with our weekend-long dashing through the snow and jiggling all the way via the DVD remote! Last night, we heralded in the self-imposed festive moodies by making a slight dent in a collection of Christmas movies* direct from the North Pole (<–Not really, it just sounds better than "rented from our local video store," and I’m sure the snow will be a lot whiter this year for me having said it that way.) that stacks nearly to the ceiling! (<– so much so, that we

crowned it
for effect!)

WE STARTED with

Prancer.

I simply looove that show! Not only does it smack loudly

of the reason for the season, but we again got to see

Cloris Leachman topnotching
with her performance as Mrs. McFarland,

AND

an infantile Johnny Galecki!

THIS MORNING, we’ll gather ‘round

"the hearth"
for

The Snow Man,

and then join

Rudolph the Red-Nosed Reindeer
(Can I be Clarice the Doe this time? Pretty please??)
to resume antlered games.

Ahhh! and Ahhh, again!

*raises morning bowl of popcorn in one hand and

concession stand-size box of Junior mints in the other*

Let’s hear it for holiday movies*!

An additional

FOUR WORDS: the more, the merrier!

YOU'LL HAVE TO excuse me now,

I have to

plug in the "tree"!

May your small screen viewing be right,
And may all your jujubees be the ones you bite!
(*groooan* Who writes this stuff?!)
SparkleFarkle~~~~~*

Sweet Sugar Plum Fairy dreams, my Mollo.

P.S. FOR A LOOKSEE at what others are up to today, phrased or sentenced in six words, click SIX WORD Saturday Shout-outs, OR the SWS button in the passenger’s seat —>)

This Does Not Compute

“ONE THING A COMPUTER can do that most humans can't is be sealed up in a cardboard box and sit in a warehouse.” --Jack Handey

HAPPY
Jack Handey
FRIDAY!
and

WELCOME TO A TWO DAYS-LATE serving of ABC Wednesday, a weekly alphabet soup, this “go” heavily seasoned with letter number seventeen. For several more spoons of “Q” broth (a looksee at other participants’ blog entries), as I’m sure there’s still some simmering on the burner, “Click” the sidebarring button. —>

is for...

quits:
what my computer called it
late on Tuesday evening.

Actually, NOT true.

The weather wasn’t doing anything when, suddenly, neither was my modem. Uh-huh and inexplicably, our power went out for a speck of a smitch of a second–- the lights, the TV, everything. Then, just as quickly, it was restored-- with the exception of my virtual

air supply.

ONE WORD:
Internot

YEP, I AGREE: old story. We’ve all been down this path more times than we’d care to be, but hit the trail with me one more time, because this particular ride promises to be colourful– well, maybe just around the edges?

AFTER AN UNSUCCESSFUL go at the cable company’s per telephone, automated trouble shooting session, I remained salmon-swimming-upstreamy, until I was connected with an unbright tool in the shed a helpful service representative.

THE “FUN” BEGINS with Cable Rep. Cherry O. (who doesn’t have to give her last name, that of which I’m sure would end in “ne Brick Short of a Load,” if spelled out completely) responding to my explanation regarding the lack of Internet situation I am experiencing, in an answer to her opening question.

Cherry O.: (eating sounds followed by more eating sounds)
Me: Hi Ho, Cherry-O? Miss Cherry O.? Are you still on the line?
Cherry O.: The last four digits of the social security number.

OKAY. I OFFER the account number instead (My husband is ultimately responsible for the bill.), because that is what I hitchlessly usually do.

Cherry O.: (punching in the number) *PuNcH! PuNcH! PuNcH! PuNcH! PuNcH! PuNcH! PuNcH! PuNcH! PuNcH! PuNcH! PuNcH! PuNcH! PuNcH! - PuNcH! PuNcH! PuNcH! PuNcH! PuNcH! PuNcH! PuNcH!* (even MORE eating sounds followed by a long pause) Give me the number again.

I REPEAT THE NUMBER.

Cherry O.: (again with the -->) *PuNcH! PuNcH! PuNcH! PuNcH! PuNcH! PuNcH! PuNcH! PuNcH! PuNcH! PuNcH! PuNcH! PuNcH! PuNcH! - PuNcH! PuNcH! PuNcH! PuNcH! PuNcH! PuNcH! PuNcH!* (eating sounds still going strong) Again.

I RE-REPEAT THE NUMBER.

Cherry O.: *PuNcH! x 12 - PuNcH x 7* Correct. You should have given me that number in the first place.
Me: (faux-cheerfully with a statical scribble in a thought bubble overhead, not unlike the kind you sometimes see floating above an irritated Peanuts comic strip character) Sorry.
Cherry O.: Name on the account.
Me: Billy Farkle. He’s my hus—
Cherry O.: Correct. What’s the problem?
Me: I’m without an Internet connection.
Cherry O.: What was the color of said Billy Farkle’s first car?
Me: (flummoxed) The colour of what?
Cherry O.: His first car.
Me: My husband’s first car? I don’t know... What does that have to do with anything?? Cherry O.: (impatiently tapping perhaps a pencil-- more likely, an eating utensil) The car colour. Billy Farkle’s.

AM I ON TRIAL HERE?!
I just want my Internet back!

Cherry O.: The colour.
Me: (walking upstairs to the bathroom and half-expecting Cherry O. to next ask something as insane as“How many fingers am I holding up?”, then gesturing to Hi Ho Cherry-O at the mere thought of it, and showing how many fingers ARE presently being held up at the Farkle home) I dunno. Why don’t YOU ask him?

I SLIDE the phone under the bathroom door to Billy, where he verifies he is indeed the king of the castle (literally sitting on his "throne") and declares me his official wife.

Billy: (concluding his conversation with Cherry O.) Brown.

(I CAN ONLY HOPE he's describing
the colour of his first car.)

Cherry O.: A cable agent will be at your house Wednesday at a time between one and three. Be there, be eighteen, and corral any large dogs.

I GET MY LASSO.
. . . . .

"LURCH" (a tag I’ve given him because even though he’s nice enough, it’s

like that),

the service guy we nearly always end up with on these occasions and who hails from some planet where speaking in a different foreign accent every time coming in contact with someone, is the norm and at which time selective “getting lost in translation” is also part of the package, especially when communicating with cable customers (<– a BIG plus if employed by the hour) arrived at exactly 2:59½ PM, of course, and *sigh of relief* made our computer quit quitting.

AFTERWARD, A NOW speaking in sort of Southern belle-Russian, maybe Lousiana-y Ukranian?– it doesn’t matter because in minutes it would change up again, Vlad (the name he sometimes goes by) got chatty and started to strangely grow on me. By 4:59, I had invited him to

(Incidently, using a "recipe" that’s been in our family for years,
I am always in charge of the cranberries.)
Thanksgiving dinner,
since the poor guy wouldn’t be able to go

home
for the holiday.

WHICH BEGS THE QUESTION (or does it?) :
Was there a kids’ table at

(Is it just me, or do you see the corner of
a card table behind those three Indians?)
The First Thanksgiving?

Gobble, gobble!
SparkleFarkle~~~~~~*

Rest peacefully, my Mollo.

Inventing Leo OR My Personal Da Vinci Code

"Da" FUN FACT: Mr.’Vinci was the genius behind the photobucket distort twirl (Refer to the vitruvian crotch, above.). First recognised as the Pee Pee Conceal Curl, Leo originated the device per papal dictate when Pope Alexander VI, ironically, the most memorable of corrupt and secular Catholic head honchos of the Renaissance, saw an opportunity to placate his quick-to-condemn moral commentators (Rumors were rife about Pa Pa Alex’s "holy" orgies and debauched lifestyle.) --but more so, because he was desperate to stifle the bothersome, incessant giggling of far to many out-of-control nuns creating their own portal to (and definition of) The Age of Discovery-- pressed him for a remedy.

DO YOU EVER wonder about Leonardo da Vinci? What I mean is, was he nice? Was he fun? Funny? Was he likeable? I DOUBT IT.

More times than not,

know-it-alls
are just plain obnoxious.

YEP. AS EARLY AS his tweens, Leo --having ALL the answers, coupled with growing pains– had a head that already had begun to swell, as evidenced in this

Bobblehead wannabe da Vinci and his foster bro, Mike Seaver, who, lacking in the brain cell department, thought he could compete with Leo, using his naturally BIG hair alone.
FYI image

discovered in a Renaissancey shoebox marked "Those Were the Days, My Friend, I Thought They’d Never End" (only in Italian), found under a Renaissancey bed historians believe to have been his.

DID YOU FURTHER KNOW
Leonardo da Vinci hatched the

snowcone?

FOR THAT, I am eternally grateful!

SO.
What’s for supper?
Perhaps... oh, I dunno...

Baloney?!

ONE WORD:
Gotcha!

MAN AND WHEW!

That certainly was the mother of all lead-ins:

KRISTEN AT

is conducting a fantabulous

Twilight/New Moon Giveaway!

FOR MUCHO opportunities to win the contest prize featured above (a wonderful Kristen original and, hey, why not have a looksee at some of her other delightful "availables" at this Miss La Dolce Vita’s Esty shop:

Kristen’s Custom Creations ),

just click on the Twilight/New Moon Giveaway caption OR the related GIVEAWAY BUTTON riding shotgun —>

TWO more WORDS:
Good luck!

Penny for your thoughts-ly,
SparkleFarkle ~~~~~*

Rest in peace, my Mollo.

P.S. The contest is open to U.S. residents only and closes on November 20th at 11:59PM.

Get Ready to Confetti!

SIX WORDS:

Happy Birthday to you,
dear Lindsey!

IN HONOR OF Miss Lindsey,

who is receiving personal holiday shout-outs

--Just a reminder!--

(Please don't forget a likewise drop-off of special day greetings!) at TWO CRAZY CRAFTERS, where she hosts

a wonderful,
weekly look at Barbies
and their happily ever afters,

OR at her other funtastic showboat, LINDSEY'S PAPER SCRAPS , the perfect place to kick back and go fancy paper and scrapbooking-nutsy (<-- a frolicking, good read, indeedy!), think Barbie Pink so hard,

you can taste it!

YEP, Happy B-day to a delightful living doll, and

many more!

Fasten your party hat, I’ll get the forks and cakey dessert plates!
SparkleFarkle ~~~~~*

Rest peacefully, my Mollomar.

P.S. FOR A LOOKSEE at what others are up to today, phrased or sentenced in six words, click SIX WORD Saturday OR the SWS button in the passenger’s seat —> -->.

A Not Beyonce OR Swiftly Redefining "Buoyancy"

HAPPY
Jack Handey
FRIDAY!

"YOU KNOW SOMETHING that would really make me applaud? A guy gets stuck in quicksand, then sinks, then suddenly comes shooting out, riding on water skis! How do they do that?!" –Jack Handey

EXTRA! EXTRA!

Read all about it!

Country Music’s best

is coming to Saturday Night Live! Yeppereebob, Taylor Swift will be hosting this weekend’s (November 7, 2009 on NBC) SNL episode and, without any prompting from

"STOP IT, Kanye. You make my ears bleed.

RATS! Now my shirt is ruined." –Prince Rogers Nelson

Prince,
the artist formerly known as

a shower curtain hook,

who sang, "And if de-elavator tries 2 bring U down, go crazy– punch a higher floor." (<— Numberspeak: so effective.), she’s already on a roll!

HAVE A LOOKSEE

The Unsinkable Taylor Brown and Bill Hader (Photo credit: MTV.com)
HERE! (<— Click)

UH-HUH. I ADMIRE a person
who won’t be swallowed by a

TWO WORDS:

human quagmire.

OR
is not above a good testicle joke!

Stay tuned!
SparkleFarkle ~~~~~*

Sleep tight, my Mollo.

P.S. NOT GETTING the testes reference completely gives you away: you DIDN'T click on the "HERE" under the Swift/Hader picture, did you? LOL!

More Than Meets the Pie

"Petah, Petah, Petah." –-Bette Davis,

not only saying what people merely thought she said,

but also channeling Mother Goose, who was so inspired

after having just eaten Thanksgiving dessert in 1825,

that she wrote a reflective nursery rhyme.

is for...

Image originally downloaded by duckisland

Peter, Peter, pumpkin eater,

Had a wife and couldn't keep her.

He put her in a pumpkin shell,

And there he kept her very well!

AS FAR AS HOLIDAYS go, I have always thought Thanksgiving is the best tasting one. ***manically nods back at agree-ers*** I came to this delicious conclusion after

(Kodak moment)
my very first bite (<--- Yes,

it be the wish-filled point!)

OF

my gramma’s pumpkin pie, after which and much to the chagrin of the adults around me who would be driven mad having to hear little SF~~~~~* chant it over and over and OVER again ever since the initial chew, among its other smitch-satisfying perks, perfectly established the cadence I required in order to effectively ride my tricycle, plussed with my intense love for this autumn-spicy orange, I immediately claimed "Peter, Peter, Pumpkin Eater" as my theme song.

AND SO BEGAN The Quest: me (many times pedaling three wheels under me as my mode of crusade-transportation) in search of the Petemeister, because, hey, anybody who’d house his wife in a pumpkin was fine by me because I CAN DO THAT! I want to go to there AND NEVER LOOK BACK! Later on, I settled for my high school sweetheart who wasn’t named Peter.

A MARTHA STEWARTY adage says it best

about pumpkin pie rhyming:

FOUR WORDS:

It’s a good thing!

Make it a BIG slice,
SparkleFarkle~~~~~*

Rest in piece peace, my Mollo.

P.S. GOT ROOM for seconds? Maybe thirds? Fourths, even? For several more spoons of ABC Wednesday, a weekly alphabet soup --this "go," heavily seasoned with letter number sixteen-- click the sidebarring button —> where you’ll be ladled more of this Hump Day’s broth: samples of other blog buds’ "P" chowder.

Mother Lode (Post Toasty No. 7)

(PLEASE, tell me I’m adopted.
And, YES, Mother, I think the spikes DO become me.)

EIGHT WORDS:
If it isn’t one thing, it’s a mother.
LOL!

THIS WEEK’S SUMMING "it" up in one

neat, little Post-it note is sponsored by

FOR A LOOKSEE at more "stickies ," click HERE.

HANGING IN there, but this time

going for style points.

Louve (<— me being British to encourage "reality": I be the fruit of an unknown mother’s loins),
SparkleFarkle~~~~~*

Rest peacefully, my Mollomar.