I’ve Put a Spelling on YOU

THIS IS GOING TO BE FUN!

SINCE I PURPOSELY JUMPED the gun yesterday, posting Jack Handey Friday early, because Thursday was his birthday, I’m going to have a go at "The Friday 56", where the page-turning frolic is all about grabbing the book nearest you (Right now, BUT not digging for your favorite book, the coolest, the most intellectual– use the CLOSEST.); turning to its page 56; finding its fifth sentence; posting that sentence (plus one or two others if you like), along with these instructions on your blog and a link bread-crumbing you back to "The Friday 56" !

HERE GOES!

er...

I mean THIS,

sorta.

"I IMAGINE that in some way my mother thought we were bonding over the Beanie Babies." --page 56, sentence 5

HAPPY FRIDAY 56! My this week’s selection comes from Tori Spelling’s Mommywood, an intoxicating (<–I thought using the word "spellbinding" might just send you over the edge. Thoughtful of me, eh?) look at a youngster who (taken from the inside the jacket –>) "might have grown up with everything a girl could wish for, but these days she’s just another suburban working mom...whose toddler regularly recognizes her in the pages of Us Weekly. Welcome to Mommywood, where the stars are two feet tall and your neighbors know who you are before you move in."

PLEASE DON’T THINK I’m completely nuts when I say this book was fun, funny, and, of all things --believe it or not-- interesting. I couldn’t put it down! No pressures to read it, though. I totally understand. I’m just saying.

Literarily yours,
SparkleFarkle~~~~~*

Rest in peace, my Mollo, ZuZu, and Mimi LaRue.

Banner Day!!!

(AS IF THE FOLLOWING isn’t reason enough to celebrate, A NEW VAN GOGH has been discovered! The newly authenticated painting, "Le Blute-Fin Mill," goes on public display (Zowolle, Holland), today, 35 years after an art collector bought it in Paris, convinced it was painted by the famed Dutch master but never able to prove it. Go, Vincent, GO!)

LIKEWISE, I’M SURE, you’ve just finished tying the ribbon on one of several presents you’ve been secretly hiding under the bed, in the glove box, at the bottom of the clothes hamper, and in back of the Krinkle Cuts bag at the back of the freezer, but not before licking that last smitch of butter cream frosting off the spatula you use on that cake you just dolled up for this special of special, monumental, milestoney days! And, if you did the forgetty and did not blue-star this date when

you were highlighting

your 2010 calendar (YES, I blue-star. I thought everybody blue-stars. ~LOL?~ It’s the new red-circle, for crying out loud.), please, allow ME be the one to happily remind you:

TODAY IS

The One and Only
Jack Handey’s Birthday!

MAN, TALK ABOUT your jolly, good fellow, eh?! A Happy Birthday be yours, Jack! May all sixty-one of your birthday candles be burning their brightest!

AND, MY FRIENDS, for your reading pleasure

on this auspicious occasion:

JACK HANDEY’S
Three Most Favorite Deep Thoughts
(Yes, you can believe it. My sources are more than reliable. In fact, if you send a slab of the

Olive juice with all my heart, dear Mr. Handey!

birthday cake you baked

in his honor to him, Jack said his phone number could be yours, too!)

"IF YOU DEFINE COWARDICE as running away at the first sign of danger, screaming and tripping and begging for mercy, then yes, Mister Brave Man, I guess I am a coward."


"TO ME, IT’S a good idea to always carry two sacks of something when you walk around. That way, if anybody says, "Hey, can you give me a hand?" you can say, "Sorry, got these sacks."

(who, along with my mother, has a B-day, today, as well!)

"YOU KNOW WHAT would make a good story? Something about a clown who makes people happy, but inside he’s really sad. Also, he has severe diarrhea."

AND

HAPPY
Jack Handey
FRIDAY!

(No doubt, you can understand why this one had to come early.)

ONE WORD: perk,

as in PERK OF THE DAY: I’ve tucked peaceful easy listening music, soothing pastoral scenes, outlandish hypothetical situations, thoughts of the deepest kind, and fuzzy memories, into treat bags!!! Please DO grab one on your way out the blog-door!

Let the good times roll and, if you’re going to think, make it deeply,
SparkleFarkle~~~~~*

Rest in peace, my Mollo and ZuZu.

Credits :
Starry Night cake designed by Real rotten Candy
Noel Coward: Uncyclopedia.com
Flour sacks foto: Leaf Cutter Designs
Carrot Top: Freaking News.com

Do a Little Dance, Say a Little Sooth, Get Down Tonight! Get Down Tonight!

WARMLY,

I welcome you

to installment six of ABC Wednesday Round Six, a weekly look at what’s on my mind (and others– for more, just click on the Alphabet Soup eater riding shotgun -->), this "go", beginning with the letter "F".

is for...

fortune telling miracle fish

ONCE UPON A TIME, when I was just a pup, it would be one of the BIGgest deals, whenever I could get my little paws on a

plastic-yet-cellophaney prophet!

HOLD UP. NOT FAMILIAR with the Fortune Teller? Here’s the What Gives: By placing it in your luckiest palm (your pick: right or left-- and if you’re a contortionist, you’ve got foot choices), the fish will soon bend and wiggle. Then, quickly referring to the flip side of

the envelope
the rosy soothsayer comes in,

you can decipher its movements (caused by the toy’s chemical composition: sodium polyacrylate, which is the same eye of newt used in disposable diapers. But, without asking questions, take my word for it: holding a Pampers in your little mitty is NOT the best way to anticipate what’s up ahead. Definitely, stick with the fish.) to predict your future.

BACK TO THE STORY (Get comfortable, I’m feeling some long-windy coming on.) :

, when I was but a smitch-year old, the days were terrific whenever I had a fishy mind reader in my clutches! (Typically, I would acquire a fortune telling fish by unraveling it from a crepe paper ribbon prize-ball my Aunt Myrtle would occasionally treat me to at the B&E Gift Shop, which was a simply magical, little store "run" by the silvery Miss Hazel

McGilera, whose name sounded like a movie star’s, and I thought for sure she once was, because Miss McGilvera was just THAT beautiful!)

IT WAS ABOUT ONE minute till half past noon, when I was almost out the door, headed to the car that would take me to my afternoon Kindergarten class. (<– Thank you to whoever was in charge of school scheduling. By landing me in the PM section, I was able to watch Truth or Consequences hosted by the lovely Bob Barker, both favourites of mine at the time, before having to face the blackboard jungle.)

PREOCCUPIED WITH THE SECRET crush I had on a classmate named Jimmie Marks, who always wore a bow tie and matching plaid vest over his street clothes, I snapped up my Miracle Fish and palm-nested to see the whatzup. (Well, not really "whatzup", as that word had yet to be invented, but you get my gist, right?) Up went the tail and head. "Love!" I cried out loud, immediately imagining Jimmie and I perched up top an overly-sweet toothy looking Wedding Cake. "Git in the car, or we’re gonna be late!" blasted Mert, using her NOT so overly-sweet toothy sounding voice. Before heeding my aunt's "advice", I took one more look at Destiny, carefully cupped in my hand. THE RED FISH'S SIDES HAD MOVED. "Fickle?" I thought, not even knowing what the word meant, OR what it possibly had in store for me. "I’ll stick with the ‘Love’," I said to myself, and then proceeded to heed.

AFTER TWO HOURS WORTH of starring at Jimmie, while pretending to enjoy the wooden puzzle I blindly put together; JUMBO colors-coloring a picture of a dancing bear, completely outside the lines; and taking my turn watering The Class Plant, only to drench the floor next to its pot, instead of the plant itself, it was finally time for recess.

THIS TALE is getting waaay lenghthy, idn’t it?
Okay –> BATHROOM BREAK!
. . . . . . .

Back? Great!

PER USUAL, I rushed the slide. I was particularly partial to it because, not only was it the greatest ride on Earth, but it looked to me like a Royal throne, and since I planned on being a princess someday– Well, you can imagine what sitting on it did for me.

JUST AS I was about to slide down, I realised Jimmie Marks was –ARE YOU READY FOR THIS?!– right behind me on the top rung of the ladder, waiting his turn!!! CAN YOU STAND IT?! NEITHER COULD I!!! Truly, THIS was "it"! As soon as we were both finished sliding, Jimmie would definitely be popping THE question! (Here’s where I took a small pinch of time to decide in my head what flowers would make up my wedding bouquet.) But, a little too soon after I pushed off, SO DID JIMMIE. WAAAY. TOO, TOO. SOON.

RIIIIPPP!

My husband-to-be’s foot had caught itself
in the LARGE ruffle that made for the hem of

my slip!

CRIPESALLMIGHTY! (<– Kindergarteners’ swear word) Please, dear God, NOT my Nylon! Anything but my Nylon! (My Cotton was in the wash, so that day, I had worn my best, dance-y-dance-y underskirt, usually reserved for Sunday morning Mass-going ONLY, and then, after church, I could dance in it for ten minutes --which was Heaven, because aren’t most clouds made of crinoline? I thought so, at least when I was five, I did.-- before changing into play duds.)

IN THAT ONE SPLIT second, my life --EVERYTHING– changed. Entirely. FOREVERLY. My most precious nylon slip was totally ruined (To add to the mortification, my teacher tried pinning it together with a horse blanket pin, which I immediately decided to sit on for the remaining 1½ hours of school, to discourage gawkers.); I hated Jimmie Marks; and slide-riding had been

completely redefined
for me.

TODAY'S LESSON?
The meaning of "this tale is getting waaay lengthy"

ONE WORD: fickle
. . . . .

WHEW!

I’m out of here!
SparkleFarkle~~~~~*

Sleep in Crinoline-y peace, my Mollo and Zuzie.

I Eat Yellow Snow

WELCOME

to the SparkleFarkled, weekly contribution to

~~~ Sponsored by Just B :) ~~~

where the fun is all about
posting a little of the saffy, OR a lot!

THERE’S SNOW-WHERE I’d rather be, right now, than sitting atop a heaping helping of ice cream, with a spoon in my little mitty (<-- How timely: Canadian!) about to scoop and, then, PRONTO-head it to my mouth!

SO, WHAT’S yer poison YOUR favorite flavour?

Image credit: Okawa Studios at Zazzle
Jack Sparrow’s Yo Ho
Root Beer Barrels and Cream?


(Probably, for Wife O Riley, it is!)

Perhaps the ultra-conservative option:

Honey-Lumped Ted Nugentine?

OR maybe

Photo originally downloaded at amakinfashion.com

Hilton
(Pfeffeminz brickettes submerged
in the Dreamsicle Orange Custardy)?

CAN YOU tell me? It matters!
THANKS!

AS IT HAPPENS to be,
my favorite ice cream flavour is

French Vanilla!

ALTHOUGH, sometimes, I do put a spin on it:

The Nilly Laquered in Magic Shell,
which is an easy down the hatch, as well.

*changing lanes*

ONE WORD: riddle

QUESTION: What does the welcome mat read
at an overly friendly, ice cream-eating dog’s house?

ANSWER:

I BET THERE are times I make you want to ice scream. LOL!

Eat up-ly!
SparkleFarkle~~~~~*

Rest in peace, my Mollo and Zuzu. Heaven’s made of ice cream, isn’t it?

Breaking Barriers Would Really Ring My Bell

WHY IS IT most music

conductors are male?

I know

(THREE WORDS:)

GOOD and PLENTY

of woman (yourself and myself included) with many KING-size gestures up-their-sleeves ready to rock the world, orchestrally OR otherwise. For me, be it just "otherwise."

What do you say?
LET’S STOP THE MADNESS!

(What? My wand of choice doesn’t suit you? LOL!)
Baton, maestro?

Getting the show on the roadly,
SparkleFarkle~~~~~*

Rest in piece, my Mollo and ZuZu.

OKAY, Who Had the Tranquilizer Gun Last?

HELLO TO YOU
and another SIX WORD Saturday!

SPEAK,
SparkleFarkle,
SPEAK!

Here’s what’s going on in my neck of the woods, sentenced in six words: (For a looksee at what others are sixily up to, today, click the SWS button, right over there—>)

Yay. I’m so happy for them.

OUR NEXT DOOR NEIGHBORS got a new, yapping, little fruitloop new puppy! I can’t help desperately wondering: DOES THIS MOP EVER SLEEP?! An even better question: Will I ever again???

FIVE more WORDS:

barking up the wrong tree

RUMOR HAS it, animals are the closest thing to God. Apparently, Rumor has yet to meet "Lady Tyra," the new girl on the block. And who in their right mind would saddle one <--even if it is an unlikeable arfer– with the name Lady Tyra?! As soon as the poking-fun-at from other dogs begins, this little poochie is going to be

p-oed, BIG time.

*Hmm-ing with a motive *

WANNA PLAY fetch?

Toss me some Zs.

Hopefully, I’ll be able to catch some.

Good night!
SparkleFarkle~~~~~*

Sweet dreams, my Mollo and ZuZu.

Frosting On the Wrong Cake

THANKS TO Vera Wrong Wang:

Photo credit: ChicagoTribue.com 02/16/2010

Evan Lysacek dressed like a dead bird

I AM OF THE FIRM opinion that the gold medal in Men’s Figure Skating went to the wrong guy. (Lysacek became the first U.S. man to win the Olympic gold medal since Brian Boitano in 1988, shocking everyone -- especially himself. Did you see his baffled, "Come on, even I know I shouldn’t really be winning" expression when it became official? Yep. HE knew who should have been heading in the direction of the top step on the award ceremony podium. And, if you listen closely, even Mr. Lysacek's surprised choreographer, Lori Nichol, can be heard murmuring to him, "Don’t be an idiot. Take the d*** necklace and run!" as she gives him an immediate congratulatory hug. Just play the video clip back, if you don’t believe me.-- by upsetting defending champion Evgeni Plushenko, last night.

I WHOLEHEARTEDLY AGREE with
the kiss-blowing, silvery second placer

Photo credit: OutSports.com
Plushenko:

"IF THE OLYMPIC CHAMPION doesn't know how to jump a quad, I don't know. Now it's not men's figure skating, now it's dancing."

YEPPEREEBOB, Evan may have won the gold, but Evgeni definitely won the argument. It’s too bad the judges didn't see it that way, as well. They crowned Lysacek the King of the Hill King of the Ice, even though he DIDN'T even attempt the toughest jump there is in figure skating. Plushenko DID do a quad, and he got only the silver. Man and RATS! How in the heck is this sport ever going to progress?

I FEEL Johnny Weir (who came in just 5th place while skating for the gold) was robbed, too. CRIPES, were these judges blindfolded? Even if he had done a Jesus-float above the ice, Weir’d (<– Now THAT doesn’t seem right, either!) probably would have only gotten an "average" score.

AND SINCE MY Olympic rant knob seems to be stuck on high, what’s with all the patronizing, Debbie Downer remarks analyst and former Olympian, Sandra Bezic, incessantly offers? You’re skating on thin ice, sistah! In other

(SEVEN) WORDS: You’re getting on my last nerve.

There. I feel much better now.
Thank youly,
SparkleFarkle~~~~~*

Rest in piece, my Mollo and Zuziepie.

P.S. Because you've kindly endured my tirade, and since it is Jack Handey Friday (AND even though I've already laid one on you in the previous blog), I happily treat you to the following:

"TOO BAD Lassie didn't know how to ice skate, because then if she was in Holland on vacation in winter and someone said 'Lassie, go skate for help,' she could do it." --Jack Handey

Popcorn, I BEARly Knew Ye

Photo credit: A Gold Production

"I THINK A GOOD scene in a movie would be where one scientist tells another scientist: ‘You know what would save the world? You’re holding it in your hand.’ And the other scientist looks, and in his hand are some peanuts. Then, when he looks up, the first scientist is being taken away to the insane asylum." –Jack Handey

HAPPY
Jack Handey
FRIDAY a smitch early!

LIKE TENS OF THOUSANDS of people,
I suffer from

Photo credit: MyOldTeddyBear.com
Hibernatingbearwhojustwokeup

Syndrome.

Yes, count me among those who eat ALL their
concession snacks before the movie even begins.

TWO WORDS: ongoing struggle

ONE more WORD:

DEAL.

AND, I DO. Just that: one...movie...at...a...time.

"Uh-huh" to
Hibernatingbearwhojustwokeup Syndrome
definitely can be

crazy-making.

But, "Oh, no, no, NO!" to
it does NOT define me!

*shouting it from the rooftops Bijou balconies,

using Gloria Gaynor's pipes*

I WILL SURVIVE!

*changing lanes*

ENVISION, IF YOU WILL, a favorite scene from a movie. What’s fast-feeding in front of your mind’s eye, right this very second? Here’s the prelude to the small spot from Pee Wee’s Big Adventure that I’m watching inside my head: Pee Wee stops off at a rowdy biker bar to make a phone call and runs afoul of the "Satan's Helpers," a motorcycle club. After he accidentally knocks over their bikes, the Satan's Helpers threaten to kill Pee Wee, but first allow him a final request. Pee Wee performs his BIG Shoe Dance to the song "Tequila" and wins the respect of the bikers. Next up:

MY
Favorite Scene

AND ACTION! –> They give him a motorcycle and wish him luck in finding his lost bike. As Pee Wee rides away, he almost immediately loses control of his new motorcycle and crashes into a billboard. For me,

nuttin’
gets better than

this!

Can I have some of your popcorn, I’m all outly,
SparkleFarkle~~~~~*

Rest in peace, my Mollo, ZuZu, and LARGE Marge.

Kit for Kat

Photo credit: ellen.warnerbros.com

A DAY-EARLY WELCOME to episode five of ABC Wednesday Round Six , a weekly look at what’s on my mind (and others– just click on the Alphabet Soup eater riding shotgun -->, for more), this “go”, beginning with the letter “E”.

Sculpted by artsyclay
is for...

Photo credit: Louis Thompson
eager beavers!

ONE WORD:

Mush!
(a word meaning pulp, as in “he pounded it to a pulp”.
Perhaps a sadistic forewarning? I’m just saying.)

WHICH IMMEDIATELY brings me to

my point, and I do have one:

“CATS ARE SMARTER than dogs. You can’t get eight cats to pull a sled through the snow.” (<–The reality of the quote source: words spoken by comedian Jeff Valdez, but I was thinking it all along– he just beat me to the punch...line.)

YEAH, I FREQUENTLY wonder if the MANY varied ways my cat says “Meow” to me, is really just her calling me “Idiot”, using a different intonation and the most suitable inflection in her voice, to meet her needs. You got a cat? Yes? Then, THINK ABOUT IT.

ANOTHER THING cats don’t do: pee right against the corner of the wall. Not only do “people” of the feline persuasion use their grey matter more effectively, they have class as well. SORT OF. Because remember: cats aren't clean, they're just covered with cat spit.
. . . . .

Best wishes-ly: May your Tuesday
be purrfect and may it be

Photo credit: PlanetWare.com
Fat,
too!

SparkleFarkle~~~~~*

P.S. AND BY THE BY, what are you
giving up for Lent? I’m going with

cat spit.

Rest in peace, my Mollo and Zuzu, this bloggy installment be yours!