Seek and Ye shall Find, Then After You Do, Faux Spumante: Make It Work

And on a clear day... On a clear day...You can see forever...
And ever... And ever... And ever more. . .
--lyrics by Alan Jay Lerner and music by Burton Lane

“I HOPE LIFE isn’t a big joke,
because I don’t get it.” –Jack Handey

HAPPY
Jack Handey
FRIDAY
on a Thursday!

AND

EARLY
Happy New Year!

And you know what that means:
two more days to save 2010
from sucking entirely.

YEP. FORTUNATELY, a shiny brand-new year is just around the corner. And with it comes the perfect Farkled resolution: I resolve to pray more in the year ahead, starting with–> “I pray to God next year is better than the one I just had."

ONE WORD:
Resolution

I REMEMBER THE YEAR I decided drinking less was the way to go. It wasn’t that I was a full-fledged lush or anything, but deep-down I knew I’d reached a point waaay too close to “No Return.” And if I didn’t stop drinking soon, I (not to mention, my liver) would be in big, BIG trouble. But, magical nutcase that I am, I was looking for a very specific “sign” to tell me, yes, the time to stop uncorking the vino is now! Suddenly, there it was:

SEATED AT A BAR in a small southern town, I was trying to act like I wasn’t already to-the-gills soused, as I practiced enunciation in my head. I was rehearsing the drink request I was about to make to a first-day-on-the-job waitress who was trying to make sense of an alcoholic beverage order she was attempting to take from a local, apparently a very regular regular at this particular tavern, who was also already in the bag. I soon became totally absorbed in all the goings-on:

Unseasoned Waitress: (to the bartender) Have you ever heard of a drink called “Seven Young Blondes”?"

Barkeep: (paging through a drink guidebook, but unable to find the recipe) Never heard of it. Go back and tell the patron that I'd be happy to make the drink, if he could list the ingredients for me.

Unseasoned Waitress: (to thickly-Southern drawling Otis Campell-type) Sir, can you tell me what's in that drink?

Dipsomanical Southern “Otis”: (looking at the waitress like she was crazy) It's wine.(pronouncing his words carefully) Sauvignon blanc.

FOR AN INSTANT, things got all Twilight Zoney and I saw myself as the town drunk slurring up the French language, instead of the guy who was really talking! And, simultaneously, someone punched the jukebox and The Five Man Electrical Band started singing directly to me! (<– Y-yes, I’m sure of it. No doubt about it, they were blasting their song at me!):

Sign, sign, everywhere a sign
Blockin' out the scenery,
Hummy hum hum
Hum hum, DON’T do that,
CAN’T YOU READ THE SIGN?

YEAH, AT THE TIME, I couldn’t hear all the words they were cranking out, but the ones I did pick up on were exactly what I’d been “looking” for. I slid down from my barstool quicker than pronto. Then, after leaving the waitress a mighty fine tip, out the door I went! FOR. GOOD. It’s been eighteen years now since I “never looked back.”

Forever and happily-ever-afterly “clear-headed” to write whacked-out blogs whenever I am so inspired-ly,
SparkleFarkle~~~~~*

Rest in peace, my Mollo and ZuZu.

P.S.
GOOD NEWS!
One of my prayer has already been answered,
which is a miracle because
I didn't think I even really gotten started yet:

2010 will NOT end with the sight of Nicole "Snooki" Polizzi dropping out of a ball on New Year's Eve in Times Square!

Image Credits:
Blinged eyes first downloaded at partyends.com
1950's Revellers originally downloaded at Dr. X's Free Associations

To Go Stag, Or Not To Go Stag: That Is the Question

CALLING ALL microfictionados!
Welcome to another fun-loving chapter of

microfiction Monday,

sponsored by our hostess with the mostess Miss Susan at Stony River, where the good-natured pandemonium is all about a picture painting 140 characters, give or take a few! (For more flash tale fun, click the side-barring mM button-->)

Here’s
THIS WEEK’S IMAGE
and
MY STORY:

Self-conscious about his pigeon toedness, Stan was on the fence about asking Tootie to the Kiwanis Annual Two Turtle Doves Dance and Seed Feed. –143 characters

*cups hands around eyes for a better verification-view*

KEEPING IN MIND that, yep, there’s no getting around it: a bright and shiny new year is rapidly approaching, I leave you with this a-smitch-ahead-of-time, resolutiony wish (as sung by Miss Lee Ann Womack –songwriters: Tia Sillers and Mark D. Sanders):

“When you get the choice
to sit it out or dance,

EIGHT WORDS:

I hope you dance...
I hope you dance.”

Capezios for everyone– they’re on me-ly,
SparkleFarkle~~~~~*

Rest in peace, my Mollo and Zuzie.

Shhh! Did you hear that?! JINGLE BELLS!!!

HERE'S HOPING ALL that better watch outing, better not crying, and better not pouting works out for all of you.

FOUR WORDS:

Merry Christmas, dear friends!

Visions of sugar-plums dancing in my head, how 'bout yours?-ly,
SparkleFarkle~~~~~*

Merry Merry, my Mollo and Zuzie!

I've Gone Hog Wild!

CALLING ALL microfictionados!

Welcome to another fun-loving chapter of

microfiction Monday,

sponsored by our hostess with the mostess Miss Susan at Stony River, where the good-natured pandemonium is all about a picture painting 140 characters or even fewer! (For more flash tale fun, click the side-barring mM button-->)

I JUST KNEW, sooner or later, the time would come when I'd look at a brand-new microfiction image and completely draw

a blank.
And, boy, oh, boy, am I ever glad I did,
because it’s my this week’s story’s inspiration:

"I'll name him Porky and some day he'll be famous!" said little Mel, defending his present from Santa. "When pigs fly," the children taunted. –141 characters

FOUR WORDS:

Ya-ba-deeb-a-deeb-a-deeb-a-dee--
That’s all folks!

*while channeling the National Pork Board,
puts on Big Crosby's crooning voice to sign off*

I’m dreaming of
the other White Meat Christmas...
SparkleFarkle~~~~~*
　
Rest in peace, my Mollo and Zuzie.

Image Credit: Santa with a batch of kids: SuperStock

Paper Cuts

“THE FIRST TIME I ever tried to milk a cow at Grandpa’s farm, I didn’t even know which end of the cow to milk! Then, I guess I got even dumber, because the next time I couldn’t even find the barn. Then, the last time, I just went out in the woods and lived, with no clothes on.” --Jack Handey

HAPPY
Jack Handey
FRIDAY!
and

a sample of mooing scherenschnitte
Artist: Karin Dickel-Jonasch
Heilige Kuh!

I WISH I HAD a dollar for every time I wanted to talk German folk art, only to be replied to with a resounding, well-intentioned

“God bless you!”

HOLIDAY FUN-PACKED FYI: American-born soul singer P.P. Arnold scored several hits during the 1960's, including “Angel of the Morning,” (If You Think You’re) Groovy,” and the avant-gardey, scherenschnitte-themed Christmas carol, “The First Cut is the Deepest,” featured here for your viewing pleasure. Yes, since "First Cut" was so well-received at Yuletide, P.P. changed up the lyrics, dropping the “Jesus” from holy-infant-so-tender-and-mild Baby Jesus’ name in the song, and re-released it in the spring of 1967, at which time the single became ridiculously huge once more!

WITH NO FURTHER ado, I will now leave you with Miss Arnold singing “The First Cut is the Deepest” <–The minus the “Jesus" version. NOTE: You might want to turn off side-barring (and, word's out, pregnant with twins!) Mariah Carey, above, if you want to give P.P. your undivided.):



Yep. I am thinking what you're thinking: I’ll probably be going straight to hell when I "go."

Merry Merry!
SparkleFarkle~~~~~*

Rest in peace, my Mollo and Zuzu.

Image Credit: Santy Claus skizz: herrschners.com

In a Manner of Speaking

Advice taken from the chapter titled ”Been There, Done That,”
borrowed from Emily Post’s Etiquette: The Blue Book of Social Usage.

CALLING ALL microfictionados!
Welcome to another fun-loving chapter of

microfiction Monday,

sponsored by our hostess with the mostess Miss Susan at Stony River, where the good-natured pandemonium is all about a picture painting 140 characters, give or take a few! (For more flash tale fun, click the side-barring mM button-->)

Here’s
THIS WEEK’S IMAGE
and
MY STORY:

Given up for adoption by her then unwed mom Emily Post, Dotty was brought up to believe that it wasn’t wrong to wash your dirty linen in public. --144 characters

*for the fun of it, dons Ed McMahon sidekick costume
and "walks the walk"*

“Ed” McSparkleFarkle: I hold in my hand the envelope. As a child of four can plainly see, this envelope has been hermetically sealed. It has been kept in a #2 mayonnaise jar under Funk and Wagnall's porch since noon today. No one knows the contents of this envelope, but you, in your divine and mystical way, will ascertain the answer having never before seen the question. (hands envelope over to The Mystic of the East)

Carnac the Magnificent: (divining the answer to the question written on the card sealed inside the envelope) Laundry. (tears open the envelope to reveal the question -->SIX WORDS:) What SparkleFarkle does for a living.

As I break away to reunite with my constant companion, Ivorine, please enjoy this nostalgic looksee at minding not only your Ps and Qs but the rest of the alphabet, too:

Love,
SF~~~~~*

Rest in peace, my Mollo and ZuZu.

Hippo, Hippo Hooray for Christmas!

"IF YOUR KID MAKES one of those little homemade guitars out of a cigar box and rubber bands, don't let him just play it once or twice and then throw it away. Make him practice on it, every day, for about three hours a day. Later, he'll thank you." –Jack Handey

HAPPY
Jack Handey
FRIDAY!

BLAME IT on the Bossa Nova, the dance of love! (<–Oops! Sorry, wrong blog.) my Catholic upbringing, I dunno, but I never questioned anything when I was a smitch. Like at no time did I say "How come Gramma is able to keep a steady-ready and inordinate stash of empty cigar boxes on hand, even though Grampa doesn’t smoke?" Or "Why does Gramma have so many

on-duty Air-wicks

strewn about the cellar, almost impersonating too many panting votive candles doing a vigil in her basement laundry room?" Or "How come Gramma every so often ptooies a 'dog hair' from her tongue, spouting, 'Ew! A dog hair!' But the 'dog hair' looks an awful lot more like a stray piece of tobacco, and guess what, Gramma, you don’t even have a dog."

NO matter. The thing is, whenever and for whatever (doll bed, fairy’s treasure chest, bottle cap collector... er, mouse casket!, etc.), an empty cigar box was invariably at my finger tips. And always at Yuletide I was encouraged to make a guitar out of one to strum the tunes of the Christmas carols that we sang along with as they played to us over Gramma’s kitchen radio. (<--You know, the one with several cigar bands usually making themselves to home up top it?!?)

WHICH BRINGS me to one of my favourite obnoxious things I look forward to this time of the year:

little Miss Gayla Peevey’s crazy-thick, oddly mature for a ten-year old, incredibly irritating unique voice belting out

BYE THE BYE: "The song ‘I Want a Hippopotamus for Christmas’ was written in 1950 by John Rox and became a nationwide hit in 1953 when ten-year-old Oklahoma native Gayla Peevey sang the song as a way to raise money for the Oklahoma City Zoo's first hippopotamus. In December of that year the city received Matilda the Hippo for Christmas." --HarperCollins Childrens.com

"I Want A Hippopotamus
For Christmas"!

YEAH, WHENEVER Peevey was making her pipes busy over the airwaves is when I was singing along my strongest and working my "guitar" my hardest! (Good God! How truly maddening it must have been for anyone within a 60-mile radius of where I letting loose! Unless, of course, they were deaf.) Then, a couple years later, as I merrily picked and crooned to the tune of the newest Christmas carol beaming into the kitchen, I plain-as-the-nose-on-my-facely thought to myself, "Mr. Pelvis would much rather something other than a hippo from Santa."

SEVEN WORDS:

Image credit: MSNBC.com’s Photoblog
"I’ll have a
blue Christmas without you..."*
–Elvis Presley, 1960

*It's a definite stretch, I know. ..
But heck, it's Christmas! Be generous with me? Thanks!
I'll see to it that Mr. Claus puts a little something extra
in your stocking this year!

Ho! Ho! Ho!
SparkleFarkle~~~~~*

Rest in peace, my Mollow, Zuzie and The King.

Yo Ho Ho Ho!

CALLING ALL microfictionados!
Welcome to another fun-loving chapter of

microfiction Monday,

sponsored by our hostess with the mostess Miss Susan at Stony River, where the good-natured pandemonium is all about a picture painting 140 characters or even fewer! (For more flash tale fun click the side-baring mM button -->)

Here’s
THIS WEEK’S IMAGE
and MY STORY (<– sage advice borrowed from
a tombstone epitaph at
The “X” Marks the Spot Pirate Cemetery) :

"If the wound is smaller than your fist, drink rum. If it's bigger than your fist, stuff a parrot in it.” –105 characters inpired by a long-ago Twitter read.

ONE WORD: heed!

Arghly,
SparkleFarkle~~~~~*

Rest in peace, my Mollo, Zuzie and everybody in The "X" Marks the Spot Pirate Cemetery.
Image credit: Pirate Santa originally downloaded HERE.

Potato, Potahto

HAPPY
Jack Handey
FRIDAY a day early!

”Snow Scene at Argenteuil” by Claude-Oscar Monet (1875ish)

“WHEN THE GIRL at the museum asked me whom I liked better, Monet or Manet, I said, ‘I like

”In the Winter Garden” by Edouard Manet (1878-9)
mayonnaise.’

She just stared at me, so I said it again, louder. Then she left. I guess she went to try to find some mayonnaise for me.” –Jack Handey

(Image Credit: David W. Dunlap)

IF I WAS to take a preference poll right now, and Tommy James just happened along, his answer would probably go like this:

Image Credit: LypeRadel

TOMMY: Ooh I love ya, Monet, Mo, Mo, Monet!
(Shut up you!)
Ooh I love ya, Monet, Mo, Mo, Monet!
(So good!)
Ooh I love ya, Monet, Mo, Mo, Monet!
(Alright!)
Ooh, I love you Monet, Monet!
Said Monet, Monet--
Yeah!
(Yeah!)
Yeah!
(Yeah!)
Yeah!
(Yeah!)
Yeah!
(Yeah!)

AND HE'D BE SINGING IT.

SECONDS INTO his reply, I would reach up to snatch just enough Monet Mony money from the cartoon bubble over his head, before pointing myself in the direction of the Borders, one street over from where I live, to buy, no, not Tommy James and the Shondells’ greatest hits, but this (or some sort of re-release of it, that of which I know they have– I’ve been eyeballing it since late October, and I even hid it twice or so, thinking someone would make it their very own before I could!) :

Dean Martin:
A Winter Romance (Capitol)
"Winter Romance"
"Let It Snow! Let It Snow! Let It Snow!"
"Things We Did Last Summer"
"I've Got My Love To Keep Me Warm"
"June In January"
" Canadian Sunset"
"Winter Wonderland"
"Out In The Cold Again"
"Baby, It's Cold Outside"
"Rudolph The Red-Nosed Reindeer"
"White Christmas"
" It Won't Cool Off"
"Christmas Blues"

Because, Dino, SEVEN WORDS:

All I want for Christmas is you!

BY THE BY:

What’s your poison?

If-I-was-in-charge-of-the-world-well-at-least-the-culinary-side-of-it-Miracle-Whip-would-never-be-allowed-to-hook-up-with-tuna-fish–It’s-just-not-natural-ly,
SparkleFarkle~~~~~*

Rest in peace, my Mollo and Zuzie.