Fo Shizzle Fizzle

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-->)

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

The never-to-get-it-quite-right AfewShadesBeyondBlonde in action.
Hopefully, Foot Wizard Dr. Scholl would get wind of her.

Little did AfewShadesBeyondBlonde, the Alka-Seltzer Fairy, know she would soon be replaced by a plop plop fizz fizzer named Speedy. –131 characters

SIX WORDS:

“Oh, what a relief it is!"

Warm fizzies fuzzies be yours,
SparkleFarkle~~~~~*

Rest in peace, my Mollo and Zuzie.

MMIAI

Sometimes, Eating Is What's "Eating" Me

“WHEN I PICKED UP the little dead mouse that my cat had killed, at first I felt sad. Then I felt hungry. I forget what happened after that.” –Jack Handey

HAPPY

a day ahead
Jack Handey
FRIDAY!

No doubt headed to the Golden Arches.

ARE YOU like me? <--Whoah! Is the mere thought of it causing you to shudder? LOL! Get a grip, because what I mean is, are you like me in that you wish someone would or could invent a new food every once in a while? Even though I pretty much all the time eat the same ol’ same ol,’ I do make a point of trying to find at least one new edible concoction or snack treat per year that I can’t seem to live without for the duration--sometimes even adding it to my life-long Picky-Picky Me Menu. (And, yes, I do give myself points for “trying.” Lots of them in fact. My mother would want me to. Wouldn't you, Mom? Mom? Forget it it. A member of the Clean Plate Club I will never be... I am, however, a classically trained sock-folder taught by "The Best." That's got to count for something. You'd think. Mom?... Mother?...ANYBODY?!?)

SO FAR this year, “I’m lovin’ it!®” (<–Thank you, Justin Timberlake, for contributing to the palatability of the rest of McDonald's offerings. Even though it doesn’t make the any of Ronnie’s other “food” feel less worse in my stomach, your “‘flavor’ is in perfect harmony”!) to the tune of

It looks exactly like this, except you can’t see the music and its consistency is that of canned fruit cocktail, only with more juice --and expect a paper carton, not a cute bowl like Goldilocks got.

McDonald’s new
Fruit and Oatmeal!

GUESS what? Even though I rather think McDonald’s is dangerous, and some sort of Vermont Maple Surple Law is definitely being violated with every serving sold, since the maple isn’t really maple at all (EDIT: Post posting this, I Googled to find that, as of February 1st, Vermont Golden Archy customers can request real Vermont maple syrup on their new F&O, so it’s just the rest of us that are screwed.), and the caramel color that is in there is now linked to cancer (Isn't everything?), and I’m pretty sure some sort of weird überpreservative is drenching the apple bits to make and keep them (<–Perhaps forever. Heck. Does anyone know where I put that Time Capsule I started? Maybe it's behind the couch, I dunno. I'll have to look later. For now, though, on with the show-->) lily-er than Snow White’s skin, PLUS: freshly cut for individual orders my Polish butski! Because nobody, not even Ronald’s little red and yellow elves, can chop a piece of fruit up and “blend it with notes of plump raisins, juicy cranberries, and brown sugar” to compose a fruity oatmeal that “is pitch-perfect in every way! See what happens when wholesome meets delicious?! - your taste buds will sing!” (<-- Uh-huh, the proof is in the pudding, but NOT the porridge, as one day when I placed my fantastic, new cereal order, the Mickey D’s Order-Taking Elf reminded me, “We’re out of bags of apple chunks. Do you want fries with that ma’am?” I HATE BEING CALLED MA'AM.) and get it to the take-out window that fast, and still call it “real,” AND I may not agree with everything when Ronald McDonald claims, “We take 100% natural whole-grain oats and blend it with brown sugar and a touch of cream for a taste that will have you stand up and sing,” is all their doing, I have to admit

THREE WORDS:

Yep, Mitch and the gang are singing about me! When they finish their first song, would you mind cluing them in?–> I’m at at McDonald’s (F&O is available all day long for $1.99!)

I am singing!

Fa, la, la, la, la-ly,
SparkleFarkle~~~~~*

Rest in peace, my Mollo and ZuZu.

Illustrators: “Little Teeny Girl with Mice” borrowed from The Bad Mrs. Ginger, pictured by Honor C. Appleton, 1902, and “The Three Bears” by R. Andre

Be Wary of Dermatologists Named Lancelot

ATTENTION Microfiction MONDAYERS: Okay, OKAY. So I used the wrong picture. What can I say? How 'bout, "A thousand pardons I beg of thee and please do try to make the best of it, or at least just cut me some slack"? LOL! No kidding, I was (in fact, upon waking) toying with the idea of maybe taking a vacation from Microfiction Monday for a smitch. I guess this blunder o' mine proves I could really use one! LOLouder!

ziti = zitti Pronunciation: ZEE-tee, n. Pasta in medium-sized, often ridged tubes --but for today’s all intents and purposes, it is an adjective describing facial bumples and pronounced ZIT-tee.

THINK IT’S IMPOSSIBLE to lose those “fleshy extras” without nasty exercising; making radical changes (Saran-wrapping, bandages, tight lacing, etc.); using harmful drugs or sickening pills; or eating rabbit food? Au contraire,

mes petites boules de beurre,

because since the start of the new year, I have lost nearly six pounds, and unintentionally, no less! Yeah, this morning after getting off the scale from not having weighed myself since, oh, I dunno, right after Christmas, I then plopped myself down in front of the tube to enjoy a hardy breakfast, where I instead found myself finally putting two and two together. And, yes, I am about to let you in on my revolutionary weight reduction secret! (<--That of which, up until my almost-feedbag a couple of hours ago, I hadn't realised how often I'd been putting it into practice.) Here’s the simple “What You Do”:

Sparing you the typical, cringe-worthy, throw-up-a-little-in-your-mouth-or-probably-more-like-it-a-lot "B and A" shots , I will merely go with the Biebs product spokesperson image, above.

PREPARE A MEAL OF ANY or all of your favourite foods with little or no regard for calorie count or portion size. Turn on the television and sit down in front of it, where your you are about it to “dig in.” Instantly, if not sooner, a Proactive Solution blemish clearer-upper commercial will appear on the screen (If you have HD, all the better.), beginning with a larger than life, non-stop steady stream of “befores” and “afters” that are so gross, your appetite will immediately leave you until your next meal, at which time you can start this weight reduction system all over again, depending on how many pounds you’d like to shed!

YUPPEREE, it’s a “no fail” you can bank on, because absolutely every time you want to simultaneosly watch TV and eat, one of these ads always pops up. Uh-huh, thank you, Proactive, because if your on-air promotions were as spotless as your reputation for clearing up annoying acne, I’d be six pounds heavier!

BY THE BY:

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-->)

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

I don’t know, Marge, it looks pretty angry to me. I think you should see about getting that thing lanced. –105 characters

ONE WORD: Warning!

You are what you eat.

I’m just sayingly,
SparkleFarkle~~~~~*

P.S. Yep, I hear ya. I'm confused, too.

Rest in peace my Mollo and Zuzie.

MMIAI

Going Green

A day ahead

HAPPY
Jack Handey
FRIDAY!

invisible jar of pickles

“THE WEIRDEST THING about going to the store and seeing a jar of pickles with your picture on it is not that your picture is on the jar. It’s that the store manager won't give you the pickles for free, and doesn't even think the picture looks like you.” –Jack Handey

Smile!
This JHF installment promises to be

(Berserk wind-up toy and renown pickle slurper, Nicole “Snooki” Polizzi, who, along with an unforgettable assortment of her cohorts, is a Reality Television personality appearing on MTV’s Jersey Shore: The Adventures of the Most Irreverent People on Earth in the Universe.)
shorter than usual!

My aunt was exactly like Ma Kettle, only better. <--Yes, that is possible . Mildred, God bless her pea shooting pickin heart, was living proof of that! LOL!

WHO CAN TURN the world on with her smile?! Who can take a nothing day, and suddenly make it all seem worthwhile?! Well, it’s you gir– WAIT A MINUTE. That would be Mary Richards, wouldn’t it? Even so, I was actually reminiscing about my dear Aunt Mildred, whom I’m sure came from the same mold, only first and rural.

MY AUNT was this incredibly funny and fun-loving farm woman who raised one husband, a whole brood of wonderful children, two live-in “hands,” several millions of chickens (those of which she prided herself on being able to “whisper” eggs out of), and, sometimes, ME!

MILDRED DELIGHTED IN launching peas without a shooter; made a mean hard-candy laced with pounded hickory nut meats (meant for sucking, yet she always chewed hers, DRAMATICALLY); and always called any child who was mischievous either a lulu, a dilly, or a mikrus koperkiem (Polish for “midget dill”)! BUT ENOUGH ABOUT MY AUNTIE. I think there’s a GREAT BIG chance

Snooki
and

Lulu
WERE SEPARATED AT BIRTH!!!

. . . . . . .

ON BEHALF of the SparkleFarkleland staff (<--That, of course, would be “Yours Tahruly”!) and myself, I would like to take this opportunity to thank my readers for putting up with what I like to refer to as “The Magic That is Me”! To each and every one of you, I have

THREE WORDS:

I relish you!

Don’t take any wooden picklesly,
SparkleFarkle~~~~~*

Rest in peace my Mollo, Zuzie, Aunt Mildred and Margery Main.

Image Credit: Cat opening jar: icanhascheezburger.com

Hearty Har Har!

Happy Singles Awareness Day!

THREE WORDS: I heart you!

Luv,
SparkleFarkle~~~~~*

Rest in peace, my funny Valentines Mollo and Zu Zu.

Image Credit: JimmyMcKay.org

How Deep is Your Love

In 1958 British-born Australian brothers Eileen Heckart, falsettoed Dan Haggerty, and clear vibrato Robin Gibb fused their pipes together to form the (instantly recognisable–>) singing trio, the Bee Gees, and were declared an international musical success story by the late 1960s.

THE FIRST TIME I saw the Bee Gees perform was either on The Ed Sullivan Show or Laugh-In. Hm... I can’t be sure which. It doesn’t matter. My point is, at that moment and, for the most part, thereafter, I found the Bee Gees to be downright *glances over both shoulders for diehard brothers Gibb fans, so as not to get ridden out of town on a rail, if one just happens to be within earshot* CREEPY!

NOT ONLY did these “musicians” look exactly like the over-cologned, peacocking guys with too much change jingling in their pockets, who winked whenever they smiled --which was a lot-- that my Aunt Jerretta was always attracted to, but I felt embarrassed for them and by them, whenever they opened their mouths.

“THIS JUST isn’t right!’ I screamed inside. “Weird grown men shouldn’t be able convince people that replicating the sounds bored kids at birthday parties make when they allow air to escape from balloons in order to make them “talk," and then sprinkle in some broken bicyle horn, but put the noises to song instead is not Soft-Serve Rock!” Yes, it’s true: the Bee Gees scared me.

I REMAINED horrified to myself, as my enthralled friends would have probably killed me if they'd ever found out what I really thought of their precious threesome. (<--Years from now, Robin Thicke would also affect me adversely. Coming soon to a SparkleFarkle blog entry near you: “Sexual Therapy My Arse!”)

YEP, NOT EVEN for a million dollar$ would I have ever attended one of the Bee Gees sung-like-they’re-pinching-their-own-noses concerts. Well, er, maybe for a million dollar$ I would have, but it’s much too late for that now. Then, to add to the madness, after starting off with ballads, the Bee Gees eventually crafted more rhythmic disco (which encouraged the discriminating, forever-and-a-day-lasting Disco dance craze, because, hey, if you have two left feet like I do, you didn’t stand a chance! I think that’s what jump started my alcoholism in the late 70s: too much time on my hands waiting for the mirrored ball and the people beneath it to stop spinning --so, bartender, POUR ME ANOTHER!) like "Jive Talkin'" and "Nights on Broadway," <-- the latter featuring Barry Gibb's first attempts at singing falsetto in the backing vocals toward the end!

THREE WORDS: Ay Yi Yi!

Not only “YIKES!” to that, but, later on, a big inkling I had all along was proven right! Uh-huh, it happened smack dab in the middle of a Thursday night in front of the television set:

Barry Gibb,
co-founder of his bro-group, whose tight three-part harmonies were loosely based on the fit of his white pants, and

Grizzly Adams
were one and the same person!

YES, BARRY, who was born with the physical appearance of a rugged frontier-era woodsman aging backward and covered the situation with a heavy slick of makeup during live gigs, was a murder suspect who fled to the mountains each week, and whose closest companion was

a bear named Ben,
after Ben Franklin who discovered electricity so hobbyist/reanimator Victor Frankenstein, who was neither a baron or a doctor but a college dropout, could construct

(Listen closely, Frank is humming “Staying Alive”!)
“you know who,”

and need I say it again: falsetto?! Come on, now really, HOW SCARY IS THAT?! Like I said, I was afraid of the Bee Gees, especially their fearless leader.

HEY, BUT not to fret, because, heck, even though several decades would first have to come and go, I found a “nightlight” at the end of the tunnel! Yep, and I owe it all to my saviors, sweethearty Jimmy Fallon and his irrepressible sidekick, Justin Timberlake, whose recurring

Saturday Night Live sketch

quashed my Gibby fears, while simultaneously I would finally realise my appreciation for the Bee Gees, in particular Grizzly Barry. And, all together, they are the inspiration behind 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-->)!

Here’s
THIS WEEK’S IMAGE
and
MY STORY,
prefaced with a smitch of staging:

[as the disco ball ascends, open on Barry and Robin Gibb reclining with guests on the set of The Barry Gibb Talk Show]

Robin and Barry: (singing in harmony to the tune of the Bee Gees hit “Nights on Broadway”)

Talkin' it up
On The Barry Gibb Talk Show!
Talkin' about chest hair
Talkin' about crazy cool medallions! –107 characters

YEAH, YOU DON'T HAVE to tell me. Another long-winded blog. I’m sorry, sometimes I just go a little nuts. But as Barry Gibb once said: “I don't ever wish I was somebody else.”

Yours tahruly,
SparkleFarkle~~~~~*

Rest in peace, my Mollo, Zuzie, and Maurice Gibb.

Pudding on a Brave Face

”The very thought of it!” vehemently bristled Aunt Bea, spokeswoman for AAPSW (Aunts Against Pudding Skin Walking), getting wind of TV crony Heathcliff Huxtable deliberately pushing conveniently packaged chocolate JELL-O snacks.

“IF YOU’RE an ant, and you’re walking along the top of a cup of pudding, you probably have no idea that the only thing between you and disaster is the strength of that pudding skin.” –Jack Handey

HAPPY

Jack Handey
FRIDAY!

RATS. Today my head hurts and I think my stomach hates me. Five minutes ago, I stopped by my daughter’s room to let her know Friday has finally arrived and is in good shape, but I, on the other hand, am not:

Puppet: (back at me) How so?
Me: (ailing) I think I could vomit.
Puppet: My wastebasket’s mesh. OUT!

SINCE I’M PRETTY sure the wastebasket, here, on my blog, is mesh, too, I’d better beat a hasty retreat. Yup, even though the SparkleFarkle is willing,

FIVE WORDS:

"Grab your Skechers Shape-Ups, little girl, because there’s always room for ‘you know what’!” –Dr. Huxtable, enticing aunts around the globe.

the pudding skin is weak.

Oh, no you don’t, I get the couch-ly,
SF~~~~~*

P.S. Don’t worry, I took care not to breathe on you.

Rest in peace, my Mollo and Zuzie.

Image credit:
Bill Cosby: TVacres.com

Hot Potato Hot Potato!

A photo of the “kids,” if I had children with Jack Bauer (Kiefer Sutherland), a highly proficient, racing-against-the-clock-as-he-attempts-to-thwart-multiple-terrorist-plots-including-presidential-assassination-attempts-nuclear-biological-and-chemical-threats-cyber-attacks-as-well-as-conspiracies-dealing-with-government-and-corporate-corruption Counter Terrorist Unit agent, but one taking an "ends justify the means" approach, regardless of the perceived morality of some of his actions in 24, a unique television series in which the entire season takes place in one day, with each of the 24 episodes covering one hour and told in real time.

What? Jack Bauer non-stop saves the world and you can’t spare a mere twelve seconds to watch 24's real-timey digital clock rev up in engine in the show’s opener?! Come on, I think you owe Agent B that much. Click the YouTube arrow.

I WAS A BIG fan of 24. Big big. <--Allow me to put that into

THREE WORDS:
E. NOR. MOUS!

I still am. A big fan of the show, that is, not me, enormous, personally. Except for once upon a time, long, long ago, when I was pregnant with my daughter, and man, oh man! I was as big as a house! I looked like the original octomom,

Mother Ginger,

only less masculine and a smitch shorter. Yep. Yep, yep, yep. After a twenty-two-month pregnancy, I truly expected to deliver eight kids, and not just the one. Wouldn’t it be grand if childbirth were as breezy as opening your skirt-curtain and everybody simply files out? WAIT, not me, elephants. Elephants full "with pachyderm" are the ones who are pregnant for nearly two years. Hm... Elephants... Okay, somewhere I must have been thinking about elephants... They are my favourite wild animal! Did you know that about me?! Yes, the--RATS. I’ve done it again: I’ve “changed lanes.” Chock it up to typical SparkleFarkleland “weather”? (<– The pre-blogging forecast predicted the usual: plenty of "flakes" followed by drifting.)

SO SORRY and thank you for patiently allowing me yet another “Willie” (<--an aptly named-by-me “putting up with someone, because you know, sooner or later, they’ll snap to,” inspired by the first few lines of a Willie Nelson Song:

“I let my mind wander
And what did it do
It just kept right on going
Until it got back to you”).

MUCH APPRECIATION.
Now, back to my romance:

DUE TO Jack Bauer, I never looked forward to the weekend anymore. (NOTE: Jack Bauer cheated death a few dozen million times, but he couldn't avoid cancellation. 24 aired its final episode last May.) Instead I looked forward to the weekend being over, and watching 24 on Monday. That’s right: I would have been one of those people with a “Jack Bauer for President” sign in my front yard during the last campaign, if terrorists hadn’t threatened to kill me my family hadn’t threatened to commit me if I did.

IT’S TRUE: even though

Jack
is easily confused with

a potato,

I find him oddly appealing, and...and...and I LOVE HIM! Uh-huh, the only things better than Mr. Bauer and 24 are the two zillion billion jokes they’ve spawned over the last eight years. Pardon me? What’s that you say? Why, yes! Yes, I do just happened to have a small smattering of some of my favourites! I thought you’d never ask!

* Jack Bauer got Hellen Keller to talk.
* As a child, Jack Bauer’s first words were “There’s no time!"
* When Google can't find something, it asks Jack Bauer for help.
* During the commercials, Jack Bauer calls the CSI detectives and solves their crimes.
* Jack Bauer can start a fire using only water.
* Jack Bauer sleeps with a pillow under his gun. Wait. Jack Bauer never sleeps.
* Jack once won a game of “Connect Four” in three moves.
*You can lead a horse to water. Jack Bauer can make him drink.
* Jack Bauer once arm wrestled Superman. The stipulations were the loser had to wear his underwear on the outside of his pants.
* If you spell Jack Bauer in a “Scrabble” game, you win. Forever.
* Lets get one thing straight, the only reason you are conscious right now is because Jack Bauer does not feel like carrying you. (Can you believe it?! This one’s based on an actual line Keifer delivered as Jack!)
* Don’t ask what Jack Bauer would he would do for a Klondike bar...
* Jack Bauer could strangle you with a cordless phone.
* What color is Jack Bauer's blood? Trick question. Jack Bauer does not bleed.
* Jack Bauer makes onions cry.
* Superman's only weakness is Kryptonite. Jack Bauer laughs at Superman for having a weakness.
* Wheaties once asked Jack Bauer to be on the cover of their cereal box. However Jack turned them down. We all know he never eats.
* If Jack and MacGyver were locked in a room together, Jack would make a bomb out of MacGyver and get out.
* Jesus died and rose from the dead in 3 days. It took Jack Bauer less than an hour. And he's done it twice.
* If everyone on 24 followed Jack Bauer's instructions, it would be called 12.

SURELY YOU CAN now understand why perhaps no one was sadder than me, when FOX ordered that Jack stand down at the end of season eight, altogether stopping the clocky ticking on 24 –and why he’s inspired my today’s microfiction, because, hey, I’ve got him on the brain! And, my apologies. *thrusts tongue into cheek* If I knew ahead of time how long this introduction to

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-->)
was going to be, I would have encouraged you
to read it in

24-y split-screen fashion.
Here’s
THIS WEEK’S IMAGE
and
MY STORY:

[NOTE: opening “noise” for each second alternates between C and D tones, along with a steady pounding. Come on, humour me, fore I am nothing without some daily special effects.]

ping PING ping PING ping PING pin-- 1:33:27. Time stands still for no man, unless it's Jack Bauer, finally taking a bathroom break. –130 characters

. . . . . . .

I’VE GOT good news! Yes, this blog entry is almost over, but more importantly, especially for Kiefer fans, Sutherland will star in and executive-produce a 10-part, scripted, online-only series titled The Confession! It’s a drama about a hit man spilling his secrets to a priest, and will also star John Hurt. Slated to premiere sometime in March, it will be available on Hulu.com, Digital Broadcasting Group's online platforms and on gaming systems.

Sneak Peaky time!
The Confession - First Trailer:



Not enough hours in a blogly,
SparkleFarkle~~~~~ *

Rest in peace, my Mollo and Zuzie.

For-the-Birds Birds or How Many Hyphens Does It Take to Get to the Center of a Farkle Blog?

A scene from Forbidden Planet (<–Please bow your head in reverence, as it is considered by many to be the Holy Grail of early science fiction movies.), a 1956 film directed by Fred M. Wilcox, starring Leslie Nielsen, Anne Francis, Warren Stevens, Jack Kelly, Robby the Robot, and Walter Pidgeon, who is also credited with “creating” the planet Altaira sets.

A smitch early
HAPPY
Jack Handey
FRIDAY,

my little chickadees!

“INSTEAD of a regular arm, Carl had been born with a pigeon’s wing. The odd thing was, all through his life, no one had ever laughed at his wing–not even the mean kids at school. Then one day he realized why: He looked in the mirror and saw HE WAS A PIGEON! He s*** right there, as he often did, wherever he was.” –Jack Handey

WHEN I WAS A SMITCH, I was afraid of just about everything, including many every day occurrences. YES, I'M TALKING ABOUT PIGEONS. It wasn’t a run-and-hide-behind-the-couch-until-Knuckle-Matt-comes-to-the rescue sort of thing, but more of a steer-clear-because-hey-you-never-can-tell event. Uh-huh, somewhere along the line, I had convinced myself that pigeons were not birds at all, but ghosts of birds. And even though they appeared to be not like those up-to-no-good see-throughs that constantly badgered Casper, I still didn’t trust them. And, could everyone see these bird-ghosts, I wondered, or just me? I dunno, I was afraid to ask.

I guess

some of them even became mailmen...

SUDDENLY, I was afraid of postal workers.
Doves were okay, though.
Doves are bird angels.

THERE.
There you have it.
So...

FOUR WORDS:

Who wants ice cream?!

SparkleFarkle~~~~~*

Rest in peace, my Mollo and Zuzie.

Image Credits:
Forbidden Planet originally downloaded by Live for Films
Soft-serve ice cream maker: Manufacturer.com
Soft-serve cone originally downloaded by Modern Kicks