Sparkle's Soup of the Day

Tired of Wheeler-Dealers? Be Patient. Payoff$ are Not Always Unheard Of

2012-01-29T09:50:00.014-06:00

“It’s the wheel thing!” remarked well-wisher and fellow inventor John “Mr. Coca-Cola” Pemberton, of his casual acquaintance’s newfangled contraption, after which he immediately staked his claim on the catchy slogan.

WELCOME TO the happily-hosted-by-Grandma’s-Goulash Succinctly Yours, a perfectly wonderful meme that picks up where our ♥dearly♥ departed Microfiction Monday left off by asking the burning question:

How low can you go?

THE GIST: Use the photo provided by GG as inspiration for a story of 140 characters or 140 words. (It doesn’t have to be exactly 140, just not more.) Oh?! *nods an impressed head* You want an even BIGGER challenge?! Then incorporate the word of the week into your flash tale. This Monday's assignment is "hibernate," which I chose to skip, since that smitch of the game is optional. <-–Whew! and thank God, because I DON'T need that kind o' preshah!

HERE’S
January 30th’s picture
AND my story:

It was Alan Schwinn’s 25th birthday and his patience was dangerously thin. Seventeen years ago to the day, a young and longing Al had followed his $tingy Uncle Ignaz’ Do-It-Yourself Two-Wheeler "kit" advice: after B-day gifting his nephew with a couple of beyond-spent inner tubes, “Farmer” Ig instructed him to “Pflant sem unter sie olt zycamore, owt back. You, too, can grow your own!” Yep, nigh on twenty years later, the bike still wasn’t ready for harvest. Not to worry, though. A more resourceful than spiteful Alan went on to invent the stationary bicycle, making million$! “Now whoze eatink meine stay-in-one-place dust, Onkel Ignaz?!” snarked BIG Al. --108 WORDS

HM.

A SparkleFarkled Afterthought:

Allowing someone to pull your chain
is lucrative only if it’s of

the bicycle variety.

• • • • • • •

NOT me.

BOO HOO DEE hoo hoo, because I never did get that Schwinn I wanted for Christmas. And guess what, Momsy? Santa's not to blame, like you said. Aw, it's okay, though. *shakes free of unattractive whinies* No hard feelings, since that aquamarine bicycle (<–the very colour of

the best Little Mermaid,

whom I had the distinct pleasure of first meeting on my View-Master® in 1958. And, yeah, that special blue colour-selection part was planned.) I then $aved up for, suited me better anyhow. And I still have "her," can you believe it?! Uh-huh. She remains forever embellished with my sometimes-name plated to her, too.

ONE WORD:

• • • • • • •

Tired of this entry? Me, too-ly,
SparkleFarkle~~~~~*

Rest in peace, my Mollo and Zuzie

A BIG P.S.
Don’t forget the

SAG Awards tonight!
(Sunday, January 29, 2012–>18th Annual Screen Actors Guild Awards®, Live on TNT at 8 p.m. ET and 5 p.m. PT)

IMAGE SOURCES
“Straight out of the Schwinn family album” snapshot first downloaded at Schwinn Cruisers
Stationary apparatus borrowed from Weight Loss-O-Rama
Chain, Chain, Chain = 5 Recipes for Life
Girl with a Christmas Schwinn courtesy of iCollect247 View-Master® reel Little Mermaid: source appears to have skipped the country. Huffy decal on loan from the eBay library
SAG Award guy borrowed from Bump Shack

Hold the Mayo, the Clinic Kind In Particular

2012-01-28T16:35:00.007-06:00

The Creek at Noss Mayo from Newton Ferrers
by Charles Ernest Butler (1864 - 1933)

"WHEN THIS GIRL at the museum asked me who I liked better, Monet or Manet, I said, 'I like 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

HAPPY
I-thought-I’d-be-able-to-get-this-in-under-the-wire-but-RATS-I-didn’t-because-lookee-lookee-it’s-already-incredibly-late-the-day-after-
Jack Handey
FRIDAY!
• • • • • • •

I have always felt that rabbits make for great art subject matter. And, yes, many were the times that this SparkleFarkle as a Young Artist drew inspiration from a raw carrot purposely not robbed of its “green toptails wearing ruffles” (<--Exactly like the ones my back-then hero, Mr. Bunny Rabbit, would have rathered. Oh, how I aspired to be him! My sweet, sweet Bunny Rabbit... In fact, presently, my eyeglasses intentionally resemble the style he was famous for, which always framed him ever so nicely, don't you think?! Me, too! Why, yes, they are indeed fashioned from a plastic deliberately chosen because of its green colouring, that of which is NOT unlike an orange taproot's parsleyed chapeau belonging to my favourite lapin-y con artist, who manufactured all sorts of schemes to get carrots from Captain Kangaroo. Thank you for asking! About my glasses, remember?), given to me by my Aunt Myrtle to gnaw away at, so as to stifle but not spoil my pre-supper appetite.

My Mayo by Sandra Galda

THE BIGGEST forever-cloaked-in-my-grandmother’s-voice-warning-“She’ll poke an eye out!” favour Momsy ever did for me, was to put a pencil in my hand long before a spoon, because that’s how much a then baby smitch me wanted to get going on drawing. Uh-huh, and come to think of it (<--I have a remarkable waaay wayback memory that I sometimes DO brag about.), and despite the fact that Gramma would have again insisted only a whole lot of bad-nudgey damage would come of it, I probably would have gotten an even earlier start if there had been a

Dixon Ticonderoga
vendor in utero,
but thems the breaks, I guess.

ANYWAY, HERE'S WHAT it is: I can’t remember a time when I didn’t love pencil-or-otherwisely (<–How I ♥cherished♥ my ~~lions and tigers and bears~~ Crayolas, Prang set and

temperas,
oh, my!

And still do, because, oh, the places you’ll go!) self-expressing –be it on walls, paper, steamed-up mirrors, car wind shields and passenger seat windows alike, peanut butter “canvases” that newly-opened Jif® jars afforded, or etc. Where am I headed with all this, you might ask? Well, actually, I don’t know why I said what I just said, because my point is

Mr. B. R.’s was–- What was that you said?
Yep, you guessed right if you said “orange”!
remember everyone’s
favourite colour.

They’ll feel good that you do, and so will you –-kind of like the way you did when your teacher handed back one of your papers with a shiny gold star pasted at the top. Yeah, that good. The other point I wanted to make, whose random prelude I never got around to either, is don’t run away from home in the middle of a storm.

THIRTEEN WORDS:

If someone doesn’t understand what you’re saying, keep repeating it until he does.

BUT, NOT TO WORRY. I won't be taking you “there” today. That would only add to the “torture,” wouldn't it, eh? LOL! Yeah, you’ve been through enough with just having made it this far into my story. But now would be the perfect time to thank you ahead for kindly sidestepping past my “giddies” in order to join me in celebrating the wonderful news: the biopsy report to confirm Momsy’s rare form of breast cancer instead came back with every indication of a non-invasive squamous cell (skin) carcinoma, which the Doctor was able to completely removed during the diagnostic procedure! Thanks be to God, and I am forever grateful for your positive thoughts and prayers that contributed so muchly to my mother’s happily ever after!

Make a joyful noise unto the Lord-ly yours,
SparkleFarkle~~~~~*

Rest in peace, my Mollo and Zuzie.

PHOTO SOURCE for Sanford Tempera = Etsy

Tomorrow I Will Get Clocked and I’m Happily Hoping the Same for You!: EDITED

2012-01-24T08:28:00.000-06:00

Oscow?!
Got ~~milk?~~

your alarm clock set?

FOUR !¡ExCiTeY¡! WORDS:
I do! I do!

Nominations for the 84th Academy Awards® will be announced live on Tuesday, January 24 at 8:30 a.m. ET / 5:30 a.m. PT (That makes it 7:30 a.m. for us Central in betweeners, living for each and every single award show that comes along–Don't be shy already, you know who you are--not to mention the unveiling of nominations, which, in tomorrow morning’s case, is 10 of the 24 categories) by

(You're right, close but no cigar. )
Academy President Tom Sherak
and
Academy member
and

Oscar-nominated
actress Jennifer Lawrence.

BUT IF THE SCREEN you’re going to be smack dab in front of at your designated time belongs to a computer, then you can look forward to going to HERE (<--cLiCkY-cLiCkY!) for the broadcast.

"S'awright?"

"S'awriiight!"

I’d like to thank the Academy-ly yours,
SparkleFarkle~~~~~*

P.S. Oscar winners will be announced at the Big Event on Feb. 26, airing on ABC.

Rest in peace, my Mollo and ZuZu.

IMAGE CREDITS:
Oscow found at Dallas ISD Blog
Shrek and date courtesy of EW.com
Jennifer and Oscar originally downloaded at PromMagic.com
Pedro and Señor Wences borrowed from Skepticblog

UPDATE:
Best Picture
"The Artist" Thomas Langmann, Producer
"The Descendants" Jim Burke, Alexander Payne and Jim Taylor, Producers
"Extremely Loud & Incredibly Close" Scott Rudin, Producer
"The Help" Brunson Green, Chris Columbus and Michael Barnathan, Producers
"Hugo" Graham King and Martin Scorsese, Producers
"Midnight in Paris" Letty Aronson and Stephen Tenenbaum, Producers
"Moneyball" Michael De Luca, Rachael Horovitz and Brad Pitt, Producers
"The Tree of Life" Nominees to be determined
"War Horse" Steven Spielberg and Kathleen Kennedy, Producers
Actor in a Leading Role
Demián Bichir in "A Better Life"
George Clooney in "The Descendants"
Jean Dujardin in "The Artist"
Gary Oldman in "Tinker Tailor Soldier Spy"
Brad Pitt in "Moneyball"
Actor in a Supporting Role
Kenneth Branagh in "My Week with Marilyn"
Jonah Hill in "Moneyball"
Nick Nolte in "Warrior"
Christopher Plummer in "Beginners"
Max von Sydow in "Extremely Loud & Incredibly Close"
Actress in a Leading Role
Glenn Close in "Albert Nobbs"
Viola Davis in "The Help"
Rooney Mara in "The Girl with the Dragon Tattoo"
Meryl Streep in "The Iron Lady"
Michelle Williams in "My Week with Marilyn"
Actress in a Supporting Role
Bérénice Bejo in "The Artist"
Jessica Chastain in "The Help"
Melissa McCarthy in "Bridesmaids"
Janet McTeer in "Albert Nobbs"
Octavia Spencer in "The Help"
Animated Feature Film
"A Cat in Paris" Alain Gagnol and Jean-Loup Felicioli
"Chico & Rita" Fernando Trueba and Javier Mariscal
"Kung Fu Panda 2" Jennifer Yuh Nelson
"Puss in Boots" Chris Miller
"Rango" Gore Verbinski
Art Direction
"The Artist" Production Design: Laurence Bennett; Set Decoration: Robert Gould
"Harry Potter and the Deathly Hallows Part 2" Production Design: Stuart Craig; Set Decoration: Stephenie McMillan
"Hugo" Production Design: Dante Ferretti; Set Decoration: Francesca Lo Schiavo
"Midnight in Paris" Production Design: Anne Seibel; Set Decoration: Hélène Dubreuil "War Horse" Production Design: Rick Carter; Set Decoration: Lee Sandales
Cinematography
"The Artist" Guillaume Schiffman
"The Girl with the Dragon Tattoo" Jeff Cronenweth
"Hugo" Robert Richardson
"The Tree of Life" Emmanuel Lubezki
"War Horse" Janusz Kaminski
Costume Design
"Anonymous" Lisy Christl
"The Artist" Mark Bridges
"Hugo" Sandy Powell
"Jane Eyre" Michael O'Connor
"W.E." Arianne Phillips
Directing
"The Artist" Michel Hazanavicius
"The Descendants" Alexander Payne
"Hugo" Martin Scorsese
"Midnight in Paris" Woody Allen
"The Tree of Life" Terrence Malick
Documentary (Feature)
"Hell and Back Again" Danfung Dennis and Mike Lerner
"If a Tree Falls: A Story of the Earth Liberation Front" Marshall Curry and Sam Cullman
"Paradise Lost 3: Purgatory" Charles Ferguson and Audrey Marrs
"Pina" Wim Wenders and Gian-Piero Ringel
"Undefeated" TJ Martin, Dan Lindsay and Richard Middlemas
Documentary (Short Subject)
"The Barber of Birmingham: Foot Soldier of the Civil Rights Movement" Robin Fryday and Gail Dolgin
"God Is the Bigger Elvis" Rebecca Cammisa and Julie Anderson
"Incident in New Baghdad"James Spione
"Saving Face" Daniel Junge and Sharmeen Obaid-Chinoy
"The Tsunami and the Cherry Blossom" Lucy Walker and Kira Carstensen
Film Editing
"The Artist" Anne-Sophie Bion and Michel Hazanavicius
"The Descendants" Kevin Tent
"The Girl with the Dragon Tattoo" Kirk Baxter and Angus Wall
"Hugo" Thelma Schoonmaker
"Moneyball" Christopher Tellefsen

Mama Mia, That's a Spicy Meatball! OR Your Worst Male Night Mare?

2012-01-22T16:59:00.010-06:00

PRELUDE TO THIS WEEK'S
Succinctly Yours
ENRTY:

NO KIDDING, my friends, one time when I was waiting for a girlfriend to reappear after a powder room pit stop in a supper club bar, an over-cologned (wooden-boxed English Leather, to be sure), fast talking, polyester plaids and stripes sort of guy, whose pocket change never stopped jingling all the while, approached me with this:

"Well, hello there, gorgeous, do you know the weight of a polar bear? Me neither, but it breaks the ice!"

ALL I CAN say is, thank God it happened during that Eastertide I gave up drinking for Lent. Otherwise today you might be calling me SparkleBahDahBingBahDahBoom instead of SparkleFarkle.

• • • • • • •

How low can you go?

THE GIST: Use the photo provided by GG as inspiration for a story of 140 characters or 140 words. (It doesn’t have to be exactly 140, just not more.) Oh?! *nods an impressed head* You want an even BIGGER challenge?! Then incorporate the word of the week into your flash tale. This Monday's assignment is "bluster," which I chose to skip, since that smitch of the game is optional. <-–Whew! and thank God, because I DON'T need that kind o' preshah!

HERE’S
January 23rd’s picture
AND my story:

“Do you believe in love at first sight or should I trot past you again?”offered smoothie Giacomo Girolamo Casanova de Seingalt, Italian stallion and pick-up artist straordinario. --28 words

EIGHT more Farkled WORDS:

Taylor Swift and Casanova. (Better be good to her, Giacomo,
or you're surely destined to be fodder for song-thought!)
It's a love story, Baby, just say yes! (?)

Lotti di ♥amore♥,
SparkleFarkle~~~~~*

Rest in peace, my Mollo and Zuzuie.

Forked meatbally-ally-ally borrowed from The Jerusalem Connection
Polar Bear with snowball turned Italian edible first downloaded by Blogeritis
Taylor Swift and Casanova courtesy of Diana Gomez

I Have a Beam

2012-01-18T18:25:00.005-06:00

"WHEN THE CHAIRMAN introduced the guest speaker as a former illegal alien, I got up from my chair and yelled, 'What's the matter, no jobs on Mars?' When no one laughed, I was real embarrassed. I don't think people should make you feel that way." --Jack Handey

An early
HAPPY
Jack Handey
FRIDAY
to you!

And, get a load of this:
Bruno Mars isn't

a brown-haired planet,
like you might think.
Oh? You didn't?
I-I guess that was me.

AND, WHILE I'm at it (ALERT: the roll I'm on is about to get a smitch distasteful, but cut me some slack? Yeah, because I just found out that Momsy's diagnosis is Paget's disease of the breast. All is pretty much not the day it should have been. For now, all I can do is pray and act out.)

Do you know why there was
no mail delivery on Monday?

(Martian Jello doubles as out-of-this-world B-day cake.! Can I interest you in a slice?)

It was Martian
Luther King Jr.'s birthday (observed)!

TEN WORDS:

(Photo: The Mars Global Surveyor)
I love you, Momsy.
Everything is going to be alright.

Forever,
SparkleFarkle~~~~~*

[Paget's (PAJ-its) disease of the breast is a rare form of breast cancer.]

Rest in peace, my Mollo and Zuzie.

IMAGE CREDITS:

My Favorite Martian ~ All Star Pics
hairball ~ Pictures from My Window

Something to Crow About!

2012-01-17T15:39:00.003-06:00

EIGHT WORDS:

Tubing, or not tubing?
That is the question.

FIRST READ THIS (from Pete Thomas, GrindTV.com):
"Crows are presumed to be reasonably intelligent, and they often exhibit playful behavior. But do they like to go sledding on the snow? The accompanying video shows a crow in Russia sliding down a snowy roof while standing atop a jar lid--not once but twice--in an episode that has stormed the web, garnering 2 million views during the past week."

THEN WATCH THIS:

NOW READ SOME MORE (from GrindTV.com's Pete):
"It's sort of a clumsy display but in the footage it does seem as though the crow is actually sledding for the mere sensation of doing so. Or are people bird-brains for thinking that?

Alexis Madrigal, a senior editor for The Atlantic, put the issue of crows and playful behavior to Alan Kamil at the Center for Avian Intelligence at the University of Nebraska.

'It is in keeping with the general reputation of corvids,' said Kamil, after watching the video. 'I don't know what to make of it scientifically but it is a cool example of a play-like behavior in a corvid.'

That's about as far as the scientist would crawl onto the limb.

'Human beings have a strong, strong, strong tendency that if we see an animal do something that's analogous to what we do, like use a tool or answer an arithmetic question, we assume that the animal is doing it and understands the situation in the same way we do,' Kamil added. 'And sometimes that's true but more often it's false.'

Perhaps, but non-scientists aren't so restricted in their thinking. Note the laughter of the children in the video. What they're seeing is a sledding crow, and the comical sight requires no further explanation."

Seriously, how cool is that?!-ly,
SparkleFarkle~~~~~*

Rest in peace, my Mollo and Zuzie.

Life and Stuff

2012-01-16T13:13:00.006-06:00

DAN: Are you ever sorry that we got married?
ROSEANNE: Every second of my life.
--Roseanne, "Life and Stuff" (Season 1, Episode 1, Aired 10/18/88)

Look on the bright side... we're still sleeping together.

NUMEROUS STUDIES covering 140 years have shown divorced people live shorter lives. People who are married have longer lives.

FOUR WORDS:

Or so it seems.
. . . . . . .

SPEAKING of prison,

FOX rolls out Alcatraz tonight!
(Monday, January 16, 8 p.m. EST)

Today, I'm certain that I've been
hitched for one hundred years --WAIT. Maybe more-ly yours,
SparkleFarkle~~~~~*

P.S. Only kidding, Honey.
Rest in peace, my Mollo and Zuzie.

Moses He Knowses His Toeses Aren't Roses

2012-01-15T03:08:00.003-06:00

Because he’d “been there, done that,” every morning as they out-the-door readied themselves, Moses would encourage Danette, his wife with the same problem as his, by laying a great big “Thank-you!” on her.

WELCOME TO the happily-hosted-by-Grandma’s-Goulash Succinctly Yours, a perfectly wonderful meme that picks up where our dearly departed Microfiction Monday left off by asking the burning question:

How low can you go?

THE GIST: Use the photo provided by GG as inspiration for a story of 140 characters or 140 words. (It doesn’t have to be exactly 140, just not more.) Oh?! *nods an impressed head* You want an even BIGGER challenge?! Then incorporate the word of the week into your flash tale. This Monday's assignment is "dream," which I chose to skip, since that smitch of the game is optional. <-–Whew! and thank God, because I DON'T need that kind o' preshah!

HERE’S
January 16th’s picture
AND my story:

MOST TIMES, Danette was thoughtful of others. But on a spring day such as this, sitting park bench-lovely and basking in the sun, she unlocked her tootsies from their usual hermetic-sealing wrap of Saran and, just this once, let them smell –and I don’t mean "the roses." –47 words

. . . . . . .

THREE WORDS:

That's a wrap!

Luv, SparkleFarkle~~~~~*

Rest in peace, my Mollo, ZuZu, and anyone within a 60-mile radius of Danette.

An Absent-Minded Meow Mix-Up

2012-01-13T08:48:00.014-06:00

Toonces the Driving Cat, a seasoned behind-the-wheeler, who knows enough to go out for forgotten provisions, even in a blinding Storm of the Century, and is also a Jack Handey invention, so how fitting is that?!

"WHAT STARTED OUT to be a nice pleasant drive in the country turned into the 'Afternoon from Hell.' First of all, when Marta and I were leaving, the cats looked at us like, 'Where are you going?' Then, when we were driving, we had to stop and get gas. So right there that's time taken away from looking at the scenery. Then, when we get home, guess what the cats are doing? Sleeping! Man, what next?" --Jack Handey

HAPPY
Jack Handey
FRIDAY!

And Yay! Yay! Yay!
It finally snowed (<--yesterday,
and still is! I'm excitey!!!)
and I want to shout it
from the rooftops!

BUT I CAN'T because there is so much more of the white fluff-stuff than the weatherman thought'd there'd be. But, if I was lucky enough to have ~~Handey~~ <--An easy mistake to make since it is Jack Handey Friday and all. Forgive and forget? Great! You're the biggest, bestest typo-pardoning peach ever! I'm getting carried away again, aren't I? Thank God, you are so forgiving. Now where was I? Oh yeah. I'd like to scream a MAJOR "Halelujah!" with me uptop my house, megaphone-voicing just that, but since the snow is yea high *TALL-hands gestures* I'd have to have handy a

(I loved Little House on the Prairie, especially Michael Landon's portrayal of Charles Ingalls! P.S. Because of all the snow, the cow-anchored safety line is indistigiuishable here.)

Pa Ingalls rope (<--Dakota Territory, or was it TVed-Walnut Grove? I can't quite remember.). Yep, the kind like he tied to a big calf in the barn, then tied around his waist afterwhich he used it to pull himself back to their

poorly insulated claims shanty's second story window, where it taut-trailed into, then down the loft ladder it went to the kitchen, because that's where it was knotted to Caroline at the Blazing Hearth in the first place, but he'd only allow himself to grip-and-schlep (<--Sounds German, dudn't it?) after

You can do it! Go, Charles, go!

he was done with chores during a howling blizzard. Except mine would be tied to the old TV antenna on my roof instead of an unsuspecting, over-sized baby cow, and would end up attached to my front door nob and not Ma, because man, did we get a lot of snow or what?! I'd say "or what," because, like I said in my Jack Handey salutation, it's still falling!

AND EVEN THOUGH a preparey me headed to the store, early yesterday morning, to pick up the "necessaries" (Cameo cookies, movie rentals, more of my favourite blend of Campbell's Mmm Mmm Good, and more hot cocoa fixings), so I could really enjoy my rest of the day and last night as a shut-in, I made one near-fatal mistake. Do you see "cat food" anywhere between those previous parentheses? No. No, you don't. Needless to say, to several "people" around here (Five, to be exact.), I was

TWO WORDS:
extremely unpopular

THE GOOD NEWS: we survived, and so did Heather Locklear. Oh? You haven't heard? You'd better Google, then, my friend. And, along with learning a valuable kitty-care lesson, I am able to share with you what I discovered my cats will and will not eat in a snow emergency. First,

THE WILL NOTS:
1. Dry Cheerios. (I thought for sure they'd go for it.)
2. Cheerios with milk. (Yeah, I thought this one would end up to be the no-brainer, but, alas, the fur gang proved me wrong.)
3. Play-Doh molded into little fish and drumstick shapes. (Here's the deal on that: they only looked like "chatte" snacks. In Noddy's case, it was "chat," since he's the male of the pack. But because there was no fooling any of them and none of them are French, it doesn't much matter now, does it?)
4. Campbell's soup (Why everyone's sooo afraid of barley, I'll never know.)
5. FYI: NO. I didn't offer even

one single, solitary Cameo.

For one thing, KEEP YOUR PAWS OFF OF 'EM, THEY'RE MINE! And for another thing, it's 5:00PM and this is NOT a restaurant, d*** it! For all I care, you can starve!

THE WILLS:

1. Cheerios gravied with the leftover Pizza Hut breadsticks' marinara sauce. (Can you believe it?! Me neither.)
2. Orange Jello?! (<--Go figure on that one, too.)

Because I've got nothing else for ya, see you later, then? Okay!
Have yourself a great snow day!

Cookies and milk for lunch again!-ly yours,
SparkleFarkle~~~~~*

Rest in peace, my Mollo, ZuZu, and

"Little Joe" Cartwright.

CREDITS:
Add Snow Effect to Image = Lunapic.com
Plural winter Pa Ingalls = Learn Sweden
"Home, Sweet,..." sign = Our Family Farm

You, Too, Can Be the Smartest Tool in the Shed!

2012-01-10T11:57:00.001-06:00

¡pɐǝɥ ʎɯ uo puɐʇs ı ʇsןıɥʍ ƃuıƃƃoןq ɯ,ı

¿ןooɔ sıɥʇ ʇ,usı

OF COURSE you want to go to
there, too, right?

Then just cLiCkY-cLiCkY
ONE WORD:

there!

Yes, transport yourself to a land far, far away,
where they also answer the burning question,

"How does this tool flip
text up side down and backward?"

The answer--WAIT. Are you worried? *switches to SparkleFarkled zoom lens, and closely inspects* Maybe just a little bittle smitch? Yeah, there, at the edges? No

frets,
my pal, I promise you.
Your frame is not about to be least-bit

jarred

at all.

What I mean is, if you're non-savy keyboarder such as myself, you needn't be afraid. The explanation you're about to read didn't mumbo my

"Good night, Mrs. Calabash, wherever you are."
God, how I loved Jimmy Durante! How 'bout you? (FYIing the above snap: Durante starred on Broadway in the 1934 Billy Rose stage musical Jumbo, in which a police officer stopped him while leading a live elephant and asked him, "What are you doing with that elephant?" Durante's reply, "What elephant?", was a regular show-stopper.)
jumbo

all that much. Onward, then? Onward it is.--> (I bet now you have good-anticipatey goosebumples on your goosegumples! Then, let her rip already, eh?!) "The JavaScript program converts English letters to unicode characters and symbols that look inverted, to make it look like you've created upside down text on the computer. Most of them come from the character sets "Latin Extended" and "International Phonetic Alphabet". Unfortunately there are no upside down numbers and not enough upside down capital letters, so this tool supports lowercase letters only. This page uses the font "Arial Unicode MS" to display the flipped text. You can learn the letter mapping behind this upside down text generator by viewing this page's html source code. Enjoy this trick on internet forum, blog, IM, & chat!"

Salamba Sirsasana-ly yours,
SparkleFarkle~~~~~*

Rest in peace, my Mollo, ZuZu, Jumbo, Mr. Durante, and Mrs. Calabash, wherever you are.

IMAGE CREDITS
Pachyderm and mate doing headstand: first downloaded at Yoga ModewrnWikipedia
Jarred flutterbug: Think Geek: Stuff for Smart Masses
Guitar frets: Fine Arts America
Jumbo the Elephant and The Schnozzola: "borrowed" from Film Reference
Pointers: artist unknown, image first featured at R.Life. Editorialized

Wart's Up, Doc?

2012-01-09T13:54:00.004-06:00

IF YOU REMEMBER anything
for the rest of your days, make it these
Golden Rule-y
SIX WORDS:

Toads aren't ugly, they're just toads.

Play nice-ly yours,
SparkleFarkle~~~~~*

Rest in peace, my Mollo and Zuzie.

Sacking It Up

2012-01-08T11:25:00.006-06:00

Carmine is about to dispel the age-old belief that
it takes crocheted balls to be a Hacky Sack-player great.
STAY TUNED.

WELCOME TO the happily-hosted-by-Grandma’s-Goulash Succinctly Yours, a perfectly wonderful meme that picks up where our ♥ dearly ♥ departed Microfiction Monday left off by asking the burning question:

Just that quick, an attempt was made to stymie the tournament.

How low can you go?

THE GIST: Use the photo provided by GG as inspiration for a story of 140 characters or 140 words. (It doesn’t have to be exactly 140, just not more.) Oh?! *nods an impressed head* You want an even BIGGER challenge?! Then incorporate the word of the week into your flash tale. This Monday's assignment is "drift," which I chose to skip, since that smitch of the game is optional. <-–Whew! and thank God, because I DON'T need that kind o' preshah!

HERE’S
January 9th’s picture
AND my story:

The “all hell” that broke loose when the footbag went missing during bumbled-headed Hacky Sack Equipment Manager but, most times, less-than-chef Carmine’s watch, would not have gone up in smoke if that 25-watter hadn’t miraculously appeared over his head. “Thank God it’s Spaghetti and Meatballs Night!” he cried, light lobbing a little “something” taken steaming hot-directly from the Sicilian restaurant’s menu. --65 words

. . . . . . .
NOW GIT!
Go out there and make it a good week!

And by that I mean

THREE WORDS:

Have a ball!

제기차기-ly yours,
SparkleFarkle~~~~~*

Rest in peace, my Mollo and Zuzie.

IMAGE CREDITS:
Thief = FunnyFidos.com
Crocheted softees = Good Gifts Naturally

Granny Squared? OR My Cheadle Heart Will Tell on Me

2012-01-07T20:49:00.003-06:00

THERE I WAS, late last night, finally holding down the couch--a chore I had been looking forward to all day--all comfy-cozy in a mighty fine (<--if I don't say myself!-->) nest I had built out of my coveted Roseanne afghan (Oh, come on, if you don't already have one, you know you want one. *cautiously tighter-grips several granny squares, because who 'can' you trust?!* as it was time for my date with Jimmy Kimmel. I don't always watch his show, but I do think he's funny and, so, sometimes, heck, why not?

DON CHEADLE.

That's why not.
Or would that be "Not why"?
Gad, how this " tea" I'm same-time drinking
makes me daft. Dafter.

Nope, nope, and nope.
I don't do Don Cheadle.
I can't. I WON'T.
Never have. Never will.
And DON'T MAKE ME.

YEP, when it comes to movies, TV series, shorts, documentaries, or especially the late night talk show I wanted to watch, I

~~Don Juan~~
don't want to go to there,
if Don is.

FIVE WORDS:
I don't need-le the Cheadle.

NO KIDDING, WHAT IS it about some people that, for no good reason, (Look out, Donny, this is gonna hurt.) you just can't stand them? Man, I've reread that last sentence about 60 times and it still doesn't sound grammarically right, never mind that I just shattered Mr. Cheadle. But if there's one thing I'm personally sure of, it's that I'm right about Don. He's just not

my cup of tea.

Yeah, yeah, yeah. He's probably a really nice guy. And yeah, I know what comes next: there are a zillion billion people who think he's the best actor on Earth. (With my luck, you're one of them.) Uh-huh, uh-huh. But you know what? It just doesn't matter to me. Plain and simple, I am just not a fan of him. A-and...um...I'M NOT ALONE. Yeah, put this in your Don Cheadle FYI pipe and smoke it: Jimmy Kimmel doesn't like Don Cheadle either. See Mr. Kimmel smiling in the above picture? Now that's acting!

AND NOT to call it the deal breaker or anything, but far too many times,

Don
reminds me of

an upside down chin face.

Do you see it, or is it just me?
If you don't see it, be kind:
HUMOUR ME.
All that "cough medicine" I had to put in my tea today
seemed to have taken its firmest hold
right about the time I started putting
this goofball entry together.

[BACK TO ME WRAPPED IN
ROSEANNE SWADDLING CLOTHES ON THE SOFA]

"No-o-ow what am I going to watch?" I ~~whined~~ asked. As the hands of the clock were only too happy to let me know that Jimmy Kimmel Live was about to close up shop, the Best Jimmy Evah replied:

"?"
Seriously, Best Jimmy, if you gotta think about,
then we're in BIG trouble.

You put the kettle on
while I run out for
more "cough medicine"-ly yours,
SparkleFarkle~~~~~*

Rest in peace, my Mollo and ZuZu.

IMAGE CREDITS:
Mr. Cheadle = Treehugger;
Roseanne Afghan = The Vintage Spinster;
Don and ~~Phil Everly~~ Jimbo ABC
Douglas Fairbanks as Don Juan = Grand Valley State University

Now Entering James Woods? I Beg to Differ

2012-01-06T13:58:00.008-06:00

DISTRAUGHT AFTER having lost her cat Tippy, who she sometimes calls Spike, Elle Woods is unable to eat --not even a sandwich, that of which she sometimes calls "Tippy," but only when they'd misplaced themselves during a forest walk.

WAIT a minute.
That doesn't seem quite right.
Bear with me,
I'm going to give it another "go":

Elle,

who got lost in the woods and was afraid that eventually she might have to eat Tippy, did. Eventually, she finds her way home --a new "home," that is. Arrested for being an unregistered Animagus, in this case, due to a food allergy, the authorities throw her in The Icebox (solitary confinement), a form of imprisonment most "sandwiches" (illegals) see as anything less than torture.

Nah. I'm pretty sure that's not it at all.
Can I take another stab?
GREAT! You're

Da Peach!

James Woods walking his dog possibly named Tippy, who is NOT a sandwich.

*manically shakes
a bejumbled head and snaps out of it*

W-WAIT UP!
I think I'm finally there:

Jim and his new puppy, who remains nameless, are on their way to a forest-screening of a

(Image credit: TVCrazy.net)
Lost
revival, afterwhich
sandwiches will be served.
James will order a "T!pPy" (a

Dagwood-type concoction

whose between-the-bread-slices layers are lettuce-nested, mayo-ed Corvus tenders, named such because it's structure lends itself for being just that, but, mostly, to honor Miss Tippi Hedren in her role as "Melanie" in

Alfred Hitchcock's The Birds).

But Mr. Woods will take it home and
refrigerate it for later, as he doesn't like to

"eat crow"
in public.

"WHAT DOES THIS all mean?," you're probably asking yourself, since, after posting this blog entry, I have flown the coop to go consume some leftover Pizza Hut from last night's feedbag, so, I am no longer here for you to address me directly with your concerns. But, YAY! for you, because a forever thoughtful me

spilled the beans
just for you before taking off!

FOUR WORDS:

HAPPY
Jack Handey
FRIDAY!

"ONCE, WHEN I GOT lost in the woods, I was afraid that eventually I might have to eat Tippy. But finally I found my way home, and I was able to put Tippy back in the refrigerator with my other sandwiches." --Jack Handey, Fuzzy Memories

HEY, BEFORE you high-tail it out of here,
have I got a treat for you!

*opens Frigidaire to retrieve a "Have you seen this yet?" goodie, kept in the Humidity-Controlled Crisper for safekeeping AND freshness, because why not? That's what it's there for, right?*

NOT TO WORRY. I promise it's not a sandwich named Tippy, or my favourite celebrity marrieds, Jimbo and Elle Woods, either. Nope, nope, nope. Instead, ~~wood~~ would you like you to meet a really, really cool poochie? Yeah, I know, who wouldn't?! Then, just cLiCkY-cLiCkY the > below:

. . . . . . .

CORRECTION: I am happy to inform
you that you are NOW "out of the Woods"!

You're lucky I didn't throw Woody Allen (and his his little dog, Soon-Yi "Tippy" aka "Sandwich" Previn) into the mix, too-ly yours,
SparkleFarkle~~~~~*

Rest in peace, my Mollo and Zuzie.

"Thanks a Bunch!" I Gratefully Replied as a 100-Watt Light Bulb Appeared Over My Head

2012-01-04T10:44:00.000-06:00

"I'll gladly pay you Tuesday for a hamburger today." --J. Wellington Wimpy

IT WASN'T UNTIL much later in my weird, little life that I would realise Wimpy was called "wimpy" for a reason, and that this man, who I thought had something important to say, because, to a very young me, it sounded important--PLUS, why would he repeat the McSandwichy line as often as he did, if it wasn't?--wasn't saying anything heed-worthy important at all. In fact, he was actually encouraging bad habits: red-meat eating AND procrastination! ("I've been a fool," dejected a then minaturized-because-of-her-age SparkleFarkle, whose daubers were suddenly headed South. Thank-you very little, WIMPY.)

YEP, AS A SMITCH, I was quite the Popeye aficionado. But it wasn't so much about me being keen on The Sailor Man per sePeepeye, Pupeye, Pipeye or Poopeye? Your guess is as good as mine. I think the labels were interchangeable, as it was all done with mirrors. And, seriously, was this kid(s) afflicted with maritime Progeria?!)

(or his look-alike nephews Peepeye, Pupeye, Pipeye and Poopeye, because what in the heck was up with that?! Nautical mutant children are never appealing, not even to other children. Especially "one in particular," who was afraid of everything --including

(~~Aflac!~~ DUCK! Here come those four godforsaken names again!-->) Peepeye, Pupeye, Pipeye and Poopeye's strangely-odd faced uncle's inked-anchor clad, strong-guy forearms.

TO ME, the Hindenburgesque upper boughs belonging to Popeye looked like they were capable of doing a whole lot of damage. I mean, who knows where Swee'Pea actually ended up when the a.a.p. cartoon editor cut to another scene after "Dad" Popeye gave the swing one last ~~punch~~ "push." Yes, I shudder even now.). Rather, I was glued to the show because

I liked Olive Oyl (I thought she and her clothes--even the early-day blanched Doc Martens she wore--were to die for!); Swee'Pea, Popeye's foundling-baby-in-the-mail, whom he adopted, yet, somehow, he belonged to Miss Oyl; Brutus (I didn't think he was that bad. He was just ultra-moody, is all. Yeah, it was because Popeye, who always got on my last nerve, was doing likewise to Brutus, and Brutus was just acting out. He seemed to ignite plenty of

--Brutus and Popeye having at it, above. (Popeye's the one who is careful NOT to drop the corn cob "smoke." Brutus is in there somewhere, NOT smoking. <--Admirable with a capital "A"! Uh-huh, even back then, nicotine-types repelled me. Hear that, Mom? Yeah, well, we're lucky we don't all have asthma, AREN'T WE?!)--

fierce tangling,

and broke a lot of chairs and stuff (Rumor has it, he was also the one behind the endless array of villain plots, asking the Popeye writing staff to "Keep 'em coming," so as to facilitate his cathartic Spinach-Eater Attacks.), because Popeye was annoying and Brutus was obligated by contract to be around him so much. "There's no escaping a cartoon," I back-then thought to myself, glowingly because I was usually only inches away from the television screen, where I soaked up invisible Glow Rays like I was a sponge. (BACK TO BRUTUS: But, Cripes. Can you honestly blame the guy? He had to do something. It's called survival, man.); and, of course, Wimpy --but especially

Eugene the Jeep,

because who doesn't want a yellow, vaguely dog-like animal from Africa with magical powers, whom if asked a question regarding the past, present or future, he'll answer truthfully by signals (<--It has been said that a Jeep has a "fourth-dimensional brain"! )?!?!

Helen Shaw played Parenthood's "Grandma,"
whom my market place mentor looked an awful lot like.

ANYWAY, WHAT ~~I really mean yours are the sweetest eyes I've ever seen~~ I'm trying to get at, is to tell you some really solid advice I took away from one of my semi-weekly visits to the local grocery store's produce department last week. It happened while I was looking for some just-right fruit, so I could make a favourite yummy bread recipe of mine when I got home:

"THERE ISN'T a lot of time between green bananas and speckled bananas," said a simply-splendid-to-behold elderly lady, eye-balling me through the two wise and trusty ones she was wearing.

Another SparkleFarkle 2012-y
NEW YEAR'S RESOLUTION

FOUR WORDS:

Olive Oyl shoes courtesy of Kobi Levi Footwear Art
Live it up!
NOW.

On with the show-ly yours,
SparkleFarkle~~~~~*

P.S. Room for one more? Great!
I can't resist sharing the best dialog ever
from one of my favourite movies,
Parenthood:

What? Too ~~lazy~~ busy to read?
Lol, you slay me!
Not to worry, I've got it covered:

[Gil has been complaining about his complicated life; Grandma wanders into the room]
GRANDMA: You know, when I was nineteen, Grandpa took me on a roller coaster.
GIL: Oh?
GRANDMA: Up, down, up, down. Oh, what a ride!
GIL: What a great story.
GRANDMA: I always wanted to go again. You know, it was just so interesting to me that a ride could make me so frightened, so scared, so sick, so excited, and so thrilled all together! Some didn't like it. They went on the merry-go-round. That just goes around. Nothing. I like the roller coaster. You get more out of it.

Yet another SparkleFarkle 2012-y
NEW YEAR'S RESOLUTION:

Really listen to old people.

Rest in peace, my Mollo and ZuZu,
and Miss Helen Shaw (July 7, 1897 - September 8, 1997).

IMAGE CREDIT: Aflac Duck = Neilson Barnard, Getty Images

I-I'm Gonna Buy Me a Dog

2012-01-01T16:12:00.000-06:00

Dog!
A dog hmm!
'Cause I need a friend now
Yeah, yeah!
BoOp, bOoP, sH-bOp, BoP, rAm-Alam
I'm gonna buy me a dog.
--sung by The Monkees,
written by Tommy Boyce and Bobby Hart

HAVE I EVER got a ~~liver snap~~ treat for you, because you want to meet a really, really cool poochie, don't you? Yeah, I know, who doesn't?! Then, just cLiCkY-cLiCkY the > below:

THREE WORDS:

Thank-you, Don Kirshner.

IF IT WEREN'T for "The Man with the Golden Ear,"

The Monkees are one of two manufactured, semifictitious bands TVeed by Mr. Kirshner. Can you name the other one? I'll give you a hint: It begins with an "A".

bubble gum would have
never ♥married♥ television.
• • • • • • •
HERE'S A LITTLE something else
to think about:

ARE

Mickey Dolenz
AND

Susan Boyle
one in the same person?!

ONE more WORD:
doppelgänger!

I love you duelly, duelly I do,
SparkleFarkle~~~~~*

Rest in peace, my Mollo, ZuZu, and Don Kirshner.

For Some of Us, the Cork Will Never Pop

2012-01-01T03:49:00.007-06:00

Jerry also hated gym class. It was the push-ups.

WELCOME TO the happily-hosted-by-Grandma’s-Goulash Succinctly Yours, a perfectly wonderful meme that picks up where our ♥ dearly ♥ departed Microfiction Monday left off by asking the burning question:

How low can you go?

THE GIST: Use the photo provided by GG as inspiration for a story of 140 characters or 140 words. (It doesn’t have to be exactly 140, just not more.) Oh?! *nods an impressed head* You want an even BIGGER challenge?! Then incorporate the word of the week into your flash tale. This Monday's assignment is "memories," which I chose to skip, since that smitch of the game is optional. <-–Whew! and thank God, because I DON'T need that kind o' preshah!

HERE’S
January 2nd’s picture
AND my story:

Enduring T-Rex arms was hard on Jerry, especially when LARGE flutes of his good friend, Krug Clos du Mesnil 1995, were in town. --127 characters

• • • • • • •
HM.

IT'D BE MY guess that, short arms of not,
a whole lot of

people's heads are like dinosaurs,
come New Year's Day morning.

ONE WORD:
Ouch!

Later,
SparkleFarkle~~~~*

Rest in peace, my Mollo and Zuzie.

Would You Mind Reading and Responding to a Message That was Left in My Comment Section? Um...That's What I was Afraid Of.

2011-12-31T12:49:00.021-06:00

TAKEN FROM SPARKLEFARKLE'S "So Make It One for My Baby..." COMMENT SECTION, Friday, December 30, 2011 (Read it and weep. I DID.):

"THE THING OF IT IS: As if I wasn't crushed enough, I pathetically resorted to going over my blogspot stats, where I fully and blatantly realised the following (along with a MAJOR stringer of other numbers that made me cry out, 'OUCH!'):

Since early this morning (Being it's a holiday week-end, I was excitey and my hopes were soaring! So, fool that I am, I checked the records at about 7:30-8AM Central. Why I'm bothering to tell you all the silly details, I'll never know.), this particular blog article, which, unfortunately, has followed the same miserable path that the majority of my other entries have, has been viewed 8 times. Here comes the wretched part: Only three people--count'em, THREE--responded. And, ready or not, here's the even more heartbreaking pièce de résistance: TWO OF THOSE COMMENTS WERE LEFT BY ME.

Especially because my 'story' was all about wishing stoppers-by a Happy New Year!, you'd think the polite thing to do would be to respond in kind. But, NO.

CRIPES ALMIGHTY...

Seriously, what is it with YOU people?! Are you so shallow that you can't even be bothered to leave a meaningless 'Happy New Year, SparkleFarkle!'? Yeah, I'm a nice person, and, yeah, you guys hurt my feelings. CONTINUOUSLY. Think about how YOU would feel if nobody ever talked to YOU --actually chose NOT to talk to you? Over and over again.

Man, what a perfectly crappy way to ring in the New Year... You skin-deeps make me sick to my stomach.

Again, a BIG 'Happy New Year!' goes out to dear pal RottieGirl! But as for all you other--dare I say it? H*** yes, I dare-->SCHMUCKS, I've changed my mind: Have a rather bland 2012 instead. Uh-huh, 'I'm as mad as h*** and I'm not gonna take this anymore!'

'I'm a human being, God d*** it! My life has value!'-ly yours,
Love,
SparkleFarkle 'Beale'"

• • • • • • •

P.S. Believe it or not, after all is said and done,

FIVE WORDS:

• • • • • • •
Rest in peace, Mollo, Zuzie, 2011, and possibly my stoopid blog.
"Mad as H***" Image Credit: Robert Landrum

So Make It One for My Baby...

2011-12-30T09:59:00.005-06:00

(See how they glow?! Uh-huh, knowledge is power!!!)

"IF I EVER BECOME a mummy, I'm going to have it so when somebody opens my lid, a boxing glove on a spring shoots out. " --Jack Handey

HAPPY
Jack Handey
FRIDAY!

WHILST I STILL have my head about me,

*"accidentally" tips breakfast box of White Zin,
waaay-ahead jumpstarting a private brand
of New Year's Eve party*

well...

maybe sort of.

Anyway, I'd like to take this opportunity
to wish you all a

!!!!!

MAY EVERYTHING you hope for
in 2012 happen!

HM.

Care to taint those Best Wishes with what my "Here, while I'm at it, let me put a damper on that, too" mother always has to say? Momsy:

"Dream BIG, but NOT too big."
. . . . . .

(If you said Jorge Garcia's thumb playing Hugo "Hurley" Reyes's thumb in the ABC television series Lost, you answered right to "Who's helping to grip the above lotto ticket?" Take anything on the second shelf, little lady/young man,

anything on the second shelf!)

DID YOU KNOW THAT a person's chances at winning a lottery prize worth $12 million are approximately 1 in 34, 475,684,284? (Yes, as do a countless number of Baby Boomery others born into families who would Never--I can't emphasize the capital "N" on that "Never" enough--be owners of "a mighty fine set of almost World Book Encyclopedias, sold door-to-door back in the day by a one-time Fuller Brush Man, who, for some secret reason, "changed lanes mid-stream," (Maybe you remember him? He was the rabidly gum-chewing, shiny odd blue-suited guy, who would forget to remove his hat (My Aunt Myrtle excused him, saying something like, "Most traveling men in retail are bald and feel quite shamely about it."), then ask for a glass of water, even though it seem as if there was "something more" he actually wanted from my obviously flattered and compliant aunt.

NOW WHERE WAS I again? Oh, yeah--> As do a countless number of other people born into families who would never be owners of "a mighty fine set of almost (Or even the "real deal" kind, because wouldn't that have been great?! I pee a little just thinking about it!) World Book Encyclopedias" during the early 60s (<--But that didn't stop me from for perpetually longing for one, because I still do. You should see how I salivate over long rows of BIG red books at some used books sales.), proudly and masterfully I do google nearly every passing thought that pops into my grey matter. Maybe to somehow fill the hole in my encyclopedia-less life? I dunno. But probably the real reason I "search" so much, is because, in doing so, I am always--and I do mean always--reminded of Jiminy Cricket, which is hardly what I'd call a bad thing, would you? Ah, sweet memories... Aunt Mert was forever grateful that "Knuckle Walt" (She always called Mr. Disney that in order to kindly appease a little-girl me, who wished Mickey Mouse's dad was a member of our family. (Sometimes, I would even go as far as to tell the entire playground that he actually was my dad. Who was never at home. Because... Because... Because HE WAS A TRAVELING SALESMAN! Yeah, that's it! A traveling salesman!

Tommy "Yeah, that's the ticket!"Flanagan
as my father is more like it, huh?
Such pathological liar-y cuteness-genes I did inherit, eh?!)

*oh-sighs* It would have been beyond incredible to have been able to, just once, tell the other kids that Walt Disney shared in our Thanksgiving Day spread!) had not used the hairless but hatted, blue World Book pusher as his model for

the knowledgeable, insecty
befriender of pointy-faced wooden kids,
he invented.

"What a cripes-almighty mistake that would have been!" Mert opinioned, as we watched the Encyclodedia salesman head to our neighbor's house, dragging his wares behind him in a leashed suitcase. He looked thirsty again, but I don't think for water. As I recall, he never did drink the glass-full Myrtle had set on a hand-crocheted coaster on the end table next to him.)

I'M BACK. Did you further know the odds of being struck by lightning are 1 in 2,000,000? (Yes, wise guy, I did google twice. And, as a matter of fact--AND for the record, Mr. Ripley--it was in rapid succession, because I am that good!) Yep, you have a better chance of being hit by lightning than winning the lottery.

So, you figure it out.
No?
Then allow me:

("You do realize, of course, if this thing does ring...we're all dead,"
advised a strapless and blinged SparkleFarkle, center. )

Get yourself some TALL friends. If lightening strikes, they'll get hit first.

*switches to the "good stuff"*

SPARKLEFARKLE'S
NEW YEAR'S RESOLUTION:

I will NOT become my mother.

AND ON THAT uplifty note, again with the Happy New Year! --AND one more for the road: please do sing with me this final Christmas carol of the season (Because I love it (<--the time of the year and the song-->) so!):

"Fairytale of New York"
Songwriters: JEREMY FINER, SHANE MACGOWAN

Sung by The Pogues & Kirsty MacColl

. . . . . . .

Dare to dream BIG-ly,
SparkleFarkle~~~~~*

Rest in peace, my Mollo, ZuZu, Kirsty MacColl and Tarzan's sidekick, Cheetah.

"My Mom is Home from Afghanistan!"

2011-12-28T17:30:00.001-06:00

IF THE FOLLOWING reunitey togetherness
doesn't warm your heart-cockles,
absolutely nothing will:

"When a U.S. Air Force Captain returns from a year serving in Afghanistan, no one is more excited to welcome her home than her eight-and-a-half year old dog, Molly. Listen to Molly’s emotional wimpers in this touching reunion between a military mom and the dog who missed her."

RECORDED JANUARY 12, 2011 • UPLOADED BY LibandCam, JANUARY 16, 2011 • SUMMARY SOURCE: Global Animal

SEVEN WORDS:
Absence does make
the heart grow fonder!

Ain't love grand-ly yours,
SparkleFarkle~~~~~*

Rest in peace, my Mollo, ZuZu, and all the soldiers who didn't make it home.

Quote-art credit:
Brian Andreas

I Never Claimed to be a Babysitter --Good, T’otherwise, OR Over the Phonely

2011-12-27T12:42:00.002-06:00

My sister (For privacy’s sake, but mostly for lack of a better name, I’ll call her

“Rhoda” ),

who I ~~try to avoid at all costs: thank God she lives 199 miles, 3 hours and 40 minutes away from my front porch~~ am not as close to as I probably should be, called to ~~throw a couple of tantrums and behave unreasonably or inappropriately~~ “chit-chat.” About thirty-five minutes into the "conversation," I finally got a word in edgewise, then she abruptly hung up. Hm. Perhaps it was something I said, which just happened to be:

“IF I WERE you, I’d send my
Inner Child to military school.”

YES INDEED, I am a powerful tool (HEAR ME ROAR!), freeing and releasing hidden agenda-areas within that perpetuate into life-long unhappiness if not dealt with.

IN conclusion,
TWO WORDS aimed directly at Rhoda:
You’re welcome!

Sensitively and positively,
because to re-traumatize is not to heal-ly,
SparkleFarkle~~~~~*

Rest in peace, my Mollo and Zuzie.

You'd Best Watch Out for the Mistletoe!

2011-12-25T16:34:00.010-06:00

WELCOME TO the happily-hosted-by-Grandma’s-Goulash Succinctly Yours, a perfectly wonderful meme that picks up where our dearly ♥ departed Microfiction Monday left off by asking the burning question:

How low can you go?

THE GIST: Use the photo provided by GG as inspiration for a story of 140 characters or 140 words. (It doesn’t have to be exactly 140, just not more.) Oh?! *nods an impressed head* You want an even BIGGER challenge?! Then incorporate the word of the week into your flash tale. This Monday's assignment is "buoyant," which I chose to skip, since that smitch of the game is optional. <-–Whew! and thank God, because I DON'T need that kind o' preshah!

HERE’S
December 26th’s picture
AND my story:

I spy a "vacancy"! See it? Yeah, right there, next to the littliest "piggy"! (Looks like there might have been a struggle, though, dudn't it?)

As Chloroformy, Santa's "special" little helper, tucked the spent rag into the borrowed-from-the-Tooth-Fairy tool bag, he creepily smiled back at his boss.

"Ah, yet another Christmas wish granted!" boasted an even creepier St. Nick, after having just extracted the nasty, freakish extra toe from Billy's right foot. Later, the elf, under the direction of Mr. Claus, would launch the freshly solo-ed tootsie from a sky-highing sleigh, as they gleefully would together shout,

"Missile toe!!!"
--74 words--

. . . . . . .

ONE WORD:
macabre (?!?!)

I didn't get any sleep last night, does it show?-ly yours,
SparkleFarkle~~~~~*

Rest in peace, my Mollo, ZuZu, and Billy's toe.

When the Mountain Touches the Valley...

2011-12-24T13:00:00.002-06:00

IF I COULD HAVE been cast in any Jim Henson production, I would have chosen my all-time favourite,

Emmet Otter's Jug-Band Christmas
(original airdate: 1977),
based on

the same-titled children's book
written by Russell Hoban
and illustrated by his then wife,
Lillian Hoban.

OF COURSE, I would
have wanted to play

the lead (Emmet),

but being that dirty laundry holds ~~me hostage~~ my interest most of the time, Jim would have probably encouraged me to try out for the when-I'm not knitting-socks-and baking-pumpkin-pies-for-a-living-I'm-washing-other-people's-duds "Alice" part. There's no denying I most certainly have all the motions down pat, and since I no longer suffer from Tide Bottle Elbow (which is similar to racqueters' tennis elbow, only I "caught" mine from lift-and-pour-the-Tide overuse. "Just say yes to 'OUCH!'" snickered the heavy, couldn't-care-lessy orange detergent flask, to which I replied, "cLiCkY-cLiCkY--<-- HERE."), it would have been a breeze, I tell ya. A BREEZE!

BECAUSE EMMET OTTER'S JUG-BAND CHRISTMAS is so very special to me--Not only did this special special (<--HBO) utilized a number of different puppetry methods and featured extensively platformed-up sets, all created with great attention to detail, but the psychiatrist I use to go to (<--Imagine that! ME?! With a mental "problem"?!?! Yeah, I know what you mean, it is to laugh!) bears a striking resemblance to Jim Henson (Hm. SparkleFarkle switched to present tense. Does that mean she's still seeing "someone"? ENQUIRING MINDS WANT TO KNOW. Perhaps SF is merely mistaken and thinks the court-appointed psychi-guy is her friend.), except my since defunct doctor wears a handlebar moustache and one of his fingers (WARNING: bad word choice ahead-->) cripples (<--strangely short and bent at the tip in the exact same way

--Sorry, folks, Telly hides his candy cane-shapey fingy in this picture. I just wanted to point out that "Living Doll" (1963) is one of my favourite Twilght Zone episodes, is all. I thought Enquiring Minds might want to know. FYI, though: Mr. Savalas plays a mean mean stepfather (Erich Streater), who has to battle it out with Talking Tina in this one. It's a Must-See, I Telly you, a Must-See!--

Telly Savalas
wore his deformy digit.)

WAIT. Where was I again? (<--Just call me "Stray.") Oh, yeah. Because Emmet Otter's Jug-Band Christmas is so very special to me, as are you, the video-clip experience, below, is my Santy Claus gift to you!

"When The River Meets The Sea"
written by Paul Williams and sung by the quartetty members of the Frogtown Hollow Jubilee Jug Band: Emmett Otter (washtub bass), Wendall Porcupine (jug), Harvey Beaver (kazoo and washboard), and Charlie Muskrat (cigar-box banjo), Alice "Ma" Otter, and Henry John Deutschendorf, Jr. AKA John "Far OUT!" Denver.

When the mountain touches the valley
All the clouds are taught to fly
As our souls will leave this land most peacefully
Though our minds be filled with questions
In our hearts we'll understand
When the river meets the sea

Like a flower that has blossomed
In this dry and barren sand
We are born and born again most gracefully
Plus the winds of time will take us
With a sure and steady hand
When the river meets the sea

Patience my brothers
And patience my son
In that sweet and final hour
Truth and justice will be done

Like a baby when it is sleeping
In its mother's loving arms
What a newborn baby dreams is a mystery (a mystery)

But this life will find a purpose
And in time we'll understand
When the river meets the sea
When the river meets the almighty sea

O Holy ~~Night~~ cow!
I just now found us a blooper "reel," too!
Man, this is like having two Christmases, isn't it?!

(Think of it as a little something extra in your stocking!)
Emmet Otter's
Jug-Band Christmas Bloopers

TWO WORDS:

~~You're welcome.~~ Merry Christmas!
Love,
SparkleFarkle~~~~~*
Rest in peace, my Mollo, ZuZu, and Mr. Henson.

If Baby Jesus Had a Chatty Cathy Cord, Chances Are Slim to None That I Would Pull It

2011-12-23T18:20:00.009-06:00

Plastic Baby Jesus Sans Swaddling Clothes and Manger

(By the by, don't make the mistake of thinking this is me holding the above faux Christ Child. The reason I know it's not me is because my fingers are made out of regular flesh, NOT over-cooked stadium hotdogs. And, apparently, the mystery lady gripping the tiny, synthetic Messiah, didn't know that on the sixth day God the Father also created manicures. See Genesis 1:27 ½)

"A GOOD WAY TO THREATEN somebody is to light a stick of dynamite. Then you call the guy and hold the burning fuse up to the phone. 'Hear that?' you say. 'That's dynamite, baby.'"--Jack Handey

HAPPY
Jack Handey
FRIDAY!

IT'S NIGH ON "Here Comes Baby Jesus!" Eve! It doth maketh me so happy, how abouteth ~~you~~ you-eth?! (<--timely and impressive Biblespeak) Yeah, can you believe it? Tommorow is already the Night Before Christmas! ("and all through the house, not a creature was stirring, not even a mouse." Sorry, I just had to include that part, because it's my entire-y favourite line from Clem Moore's St. Nicky poem! I have always enjoy when little-mice-sleeping-in-matchbox-beds scenery comes into my head, and this smitch of the "'Twas the Night Before" story is The Sure Thing, if it's all about getting my grey matter to do just that. Yay for me, huh?!)

ALONG WITH Santy Claus up on the rooftop, cLiCk, cLiCk, cLiCk!; doorbells and sleigh bells and French nappy poodles (WAIT. How does that song go again? Aw, never mind. Since "long-winded" will probably turn out to be the best description of this blog entry, we'd better stay on track: KEEP READING.); twinkling lights and mega-gobs of dangly tinsel (<--One can never have enough of this stuff! Am I right, or am I right?! I especially love the

"probably loaded with lead or another such terribly toxic, because, man, nowadays you'd be hard-pressed to find even a half of a box of this silver-glistening tree bling in any Baby Boomer's mom's attic, let alone a store, because I'd be willing to bet Hazmat-suited Tinsel Cops long ago confiscated the last of this deck-the-halls" kind.

*gets ~~sidetracked~~ reminisce-y and sighs*

ICICLES LIKE THE KIND my Aunt Myrtle (whose Birthday would have been today. Happy Birthday, Mert! I miss you. Dreadfully.) meticulously draped each and every needle of our back-in-the-day Christmas trees, just do not exist anymore... Unless you're lucky enough to go to an estate sale of a dead someone who once built a panic room for their holiday garnish.)

GOOD GRIEF! Now where in the heck was I?! Oh, yeah. Along with all the typical stuff that goes on to make this time of the year so simply won-Won-WONDERFUL!, I like Christmas because it's the one time of the year when I don't feel foolish praying to or firing my most serious problems at a newborn.(You gotta know, I usually "talk" with the thirty-three-year old version of the Redeemer.) I must admit, though, I do make any messages to Baby Jesus short and sweet, and then, immediately and intentionally, I get preoccupahdoed with something--anything--else. WHY? Because what if Holy Infant So Tender and Mild decides to literally answer my prayers, right then and there?! Huh? Don't you get it?

TWO WORDS:

(And you didn't know Jesus wore turtlenecks either? Yeah, count this fashion statement among His first miracles. As for dickeys, He made them happen some time down the road. I think it was during His "Loaves and Fishes" event, but don't quote me, okay? I can't be positive.)

Baby talk.

YEPPERS. Someone solving my problems via baby talk, well, I DON'T WANT TO GO TO THERE. And give this a think, too: the only thing worse than a baby-talk talking Emmanuel, who has O Come O Come, would be Baby Jesus talking in an adult voice! YIKES! Like I said, Yule days are the only ones that I'll address a diaper-clad Christ, yet, with that being said, directly after "Amen," I'm outta here, man! Er, I mean...WHAT DO I MEAN, because you're the "two distinct natures" type, aren't you, JC? N-NO, D-DON'T ANSWER THAT. You know how baby talk gets to me. Thanks, Lamb O', you're such a doll!

No doubt blasphemously,
SparkleFarkle~~~~~*

P.S.
Hold on to your winter beanie,

(Please and thank-you to a lookee-lookee very, very closely. I'm perched on the swirly one. But then again, maybe not. I just prayed to Baby Jesus, so, likely, I've already left.)
I'm on a roll!

YOU'RE PROBABLY FAMILIAR with the legend of the Christmas animals? You know, the shared-by-many-countries tale whose “according to” is this in a nutshell (copied and pasted [and dabbed with a few by-me change-ups] from who knows where, because, cripes, I lost the source web page!):

"Christ's birth occurred at exactly midnight. Inside the stable, the animals watched in wonder as the new-born Christ the Lord was lovingly wrapped in swaddling clothes and placed in a manger. Suddenly, God gave voice to the animals and immediately they began to praise God for the miracle they had just seen. This went on for several minutes and, just before the entrance of the shepherds--who had hurried to the stable because angels had told them the Christ had been born there--the animals again fell silent. The legend of the talking animals persists to this day in Scandinavia. And every Christmas Eve, wide-eyed children creep into stables just before midnight."

But have you heard
"THE REST OF THE STORY"?

A SMITCH BEFORE midnight, Mary's nesting instinct kicked in again. A grin-and-bear-everything, but dead-tired Joseph (<--as of yet, he had not been declared a saint, but, boy, oh, boy, this just might do it), who had ever so compliantly pushed the barn furniture out of the way so that the Blessed Mother-to-be could feverishly vacuum, decided to leave things "put," after she had finished. Then, LO AND BEHOLD! Mere seconds before the clock was to strike twelve, the very first talky miracle occurred! (<–You didn't know there were two, did you?)

FROM OUT OF THE SHADOWS an observant, little pony, taking notice of where Joseph had inappropriately planted the manger, spoke his praise-be-our-nearly-hearly-Savior mind:

"Nobody puts Baby in a corner!
he heavy-on-the-neighs spouted.

NEEDLESS TO SAY, Joe scrambled and the rest is legendy history --that of which, if I might add, also inspired a massive box office hit!

P.P.S

FYI: Not all the animals fell silent.
Much later on, the horse gave "birth" to

Reality television.

Rest in peace, my Mollo, ZuZu, Aunt Myrtle, the famous Mr. Ed, and Patrick Swayze.

P.P.P.S.

I could afford to retire,
if I had a dollar for every time I hyphenated.
OR watched Dirty Dancing.

Glad Tidings of Comfort [Food] and Joy!

2011-12-21T09:28:00.011-06:00

IS ONE DISGRUNTLED Christmas bulb stopping your O Tannebaum from firing? Do you still have tons of presents to wrap, but the only tape left in the house is a near-spent reel of Duct? Did you discover that the hook-part on all the candy canes in the box you just brought home from the grocery store, are broken due to an overzealous bag boy? Then I guess it's safe to say the answer's "Yes," if I were to ask you, "Are you feeling a smitch humbugged?"

NEVER FEAR,
I've got the ~~beer~~ cure!

NINE WORDS:

(I found these guys and instructions to "build and melt" them on a defunct website called Crazy Domestic. <--Give this a be-my-guest cLiCkY-cLiCkY to locate the easy details!)

IT'S EASIER to be cheerful
on a full stomach!

On my way to make the oven preheaty-ly yours,
SparkleFarkle~~~~~*

Rest in peace, my Mollo and ZuZu. I miss you most at Christmas.
But you already know that, don't you?

Go, Dogs, Go!

2011-12-20T20:05:00.002-06:00

I just love this kind of stuff!

THREE WORDS:

"Jingle Bells" rocks!

Jingle all the wayly,
SparkleFarkle~~~~~*
Rest in peace, my Mollo and ZuZu.

"Love" Is Never Having to Say "Paper or Plastic?"?

2011-12-20T08:37:00.014-06:00

MARGE SIMPSON: “Miss? Miss? Do you have a Chanel suit or any other high-quality clothes?”

SALES CLERK: “No ma’am, but we do have a shipment of slightly burned Sears Activewear coming in this afternoon.”
MARGE SIMPSON: “Oh, I give up.”

CLETUS SPUCKLER: “What time and how burnt?”

BECAUSE I FEEL THAT far to many people treat them like they are less than human, I have a tendancy to be Golden Ruley, extra-nice to people who work in retail. (<--WHEW! I've been there.) With that being said, I find myself time-and-againly uttering a heavy-hearted "Ouch!" after having just arrived home from the neighborhood pharmacy (I'm not naming names, but Wall minus one "l" and the plural version of the colour associated with Ireland make up it's autograph. You do the math.), where the sales clerk literally chewed me up and spit me out (I kid you not. Like I said, "Ouch!") because, with a genuine smile on my face (Come to think of it, shouldn't they all be?), I courteously asked for a bag for my 14 items (You see, although there once was a spot in my life when I actually wanted to join the circus, I never did. So, that indeed makes me NOT a juggler. And since I must walk with a cane (Yes, as a matter of fact, I did christened her "Candy"!), sacks take the edge off carrying stuff.), and then had "the audacity to take up waaay too much [of his] time" (<--his words only without the "fancy"expletives) zipping my purse before "hobbling away" (<--sadly, the phrase of which he seemed most proud).

NINE

"Danger, Will Robison, Danger!"
WORDS to the wise:

The bad guy doesn't always
wear a black hat.

Has anyone seen the Band-Aids?-ly,
SparkleFarkle~~~~~*

Rest in peace, my Mollo and ZuZu.

Image Credit:
Black hat courtesy of BestEast.com.

WRap,WraP, WrAp, They Call Me the WraPpEr!

2011-12-18T11:56:00.001-06:00

GUESS WHAT I'm doing today?

THAT'S RIGHT!

~~Drinking Pepsi!~~
Dressing up Yuletidey packages!!
. . . . . . .

SPARKLEFARKLED
Christmas
Gift Wrapping Tip #67:
Giftags

WHEN YOU GET to the "From:" part,

FOUR WORDS:

sign your name BIG.

Luv and kissies from:
SparkleFarkle~~~~~*

Rest in peace, my Mollo and ZuZu.

“A Melting Moment, A Melting Moment, My Kingdom for a Melting Moment,” Wished Frosty

2011-12-18T03:04:00.006-06:00

How low can you go?

THE GIST: Use the photo provided by GG as inspiration for a story of 140 characters or 140 words. (It doesn’t have to be exactly 140, just not more.) Oh?! *nods an impressed head* You want an even BIGGER challenge?! Then incorporate the word of the week into your flash tale. This Monday's assignment is "nimble," which I chose to skip, since that smitch of the game is optional. <-–Whew! and thank God, because I don't need that kind o' preshah!

HERE’S

December 19th’s picture
AND my story:

DOROTHY: Did you say something?
FROSTY: [indiscernible sounds from the frozen solid snowman]
DOROTHY: He said oil can!
SCARECROW: Oil can what?
DOROTHY: Oil can.
SCARECROW: (leveling with Frosty) Forget it, little friend. Tin Man goo’s not gonna do you any good.
DOROTHY: (distressing over ultra-frigiddy Frosty’s stock-still state) If only he had an Auntie Em to take care of him.
SCARECROW: Correction, Dot, Auntie Freeze.
(word count: 68)

FIVE more WORDS:

Get it? Got it? Good!

Go ahead, groan if you have to-ly yours,
SparkleFarkle~~~~~*

Rest in peace, my Mollo and Zuzie.

All I Want for Christmas Is a Can of Raid

2011-12-16T09:36:00.005-06:00

If I were in charge of farm hat distribution.

"SOMETIMES KIDS are so cruel to animals, especially insects. I remember one time I caught this grasshopper, and I made him wear a little straw hat I made. Also a little pair of denim overalls. I made him hold this little tiny pitchfork. So guess what he looked like? What is the enemy of the grasshopper and the one thing he wouldn't want to look like? That's right, a farmer." --Jack Handey

HAPPY
Jack Handey
FRIDAY,
all!
. . . . . . .

Disney's Grasshopper with a devil-may-care, don't-give-a-rat's-arse, party-on attitude that, back-in-the-day (and even nowly), impacted me.

I WAS BORN worry worty. And as a smitch I was also afraid of nearly everything. So, lots of times, I would temporarily remedy these "unsettling situations" (<--a kind way of putting "gone abnormally cuckoo over everyday life") by entering television cartoons. Yeah, *buffs nails on lapel* I actually could do that. (Are you truly that surprised? LOL! I didn't think so. More like "impressed," though, huh? Right?! I knew it!) And I still do it. (Come on, does that really surprised you either? *makes with a BIG har-dee-har-har* I didn't think so, again!) Yep, but not so much with the continuous-y. Now it's on a PRN basis... or just for fun! <--Because what the hey and why not?! "Know thy medicine and when to take it," says SparkleFarkle.

This used to be YIKES!

AND AS FOR eradicating any traces of congenital entomophobia, in particular myrmecophobia (a MAJOR fear of ants!)--merely only just a couple of the numerous, back-then fears to top the ENORMOUS stringer of my BIGliest smitchhood frights, which, togethered OR apartly, are phobias that could have gotten in the way of me implementing my self-invented, "televised-y" coping mechanism--I had no other recourse then to convince myself bugs could and did talk, especially to me! (FYI: "We" did it telepathically, so that my family and friends would remain none the wiser. Because I was an early reader, which included worry-warty absorbing a newspaper "tale" about psychiatric despair in a place called "Bellevue," this was smart of me, don't you think?! *proudly pats Child Within on the back*) Spiders are a whole nuther story --that of which I WILL NEVER BE GOING TO GO TO THERE, because CRIPES! I can't even say the word "spider" out loud, so scaredy-cat I am of them!

VIDEO PRELUDE TO this "What Ever in the Heck are You Trying to Get at Already, SparkleFarkle?!" sitchiation (Before the start of the Silly Symphony, below, please and thank you to OFFing the button on my Playlist (featured waaay caboosely on my blog page), or the the double-audio feed will drive you mad. That is, of course, if I haven't already. LOL!):

FOR YOUR CONVIENCE, A GISTY, SPOILER ALERTY SUMMARY: "A grasshopper hops through the forest, playing his fiddle and enjoying life to the fullest. He even sings a song, 'The World Owes Me a Living,' that reflects his world view. Everything in his life is owed to him by the world at large, thus, he does not need to look to the future. This does not work well with a colony of nearby ants. When the grasshopper distracts one of them from preparing for winter, the queen of the ants gets quite upset and tells the grasshopper that he will suffer that winter. The grasshopper isn’t convinced, to say the least. Of course, though, winter comes around, and the grasshopper collapses outside the ants’ tree. The ants are busy inside making merry with all the provisions they gathered, but they take time to take in the grasshopper and warm him up. The queen chastises him, but lets him stay if he’ll entertain them with his fiddle."--Ryan Kilpatrick, The Encyclopedia of Disney Animated Shorts

BUT TAKE-THE-WIND-OUT-OF-MY-SAILS sadly, even though a me-inside-the-TV loved side by siding it up with the industrious, wittler-than-wittle ant cutie pies, I couldn't for the life of me get passed how much the grasshopper as a "person," put me totally at un-ease! He scared me in a way I had never been scared before: BEJESUSLY. "Crappers!" I "swore" to my new-way-frightened self, then prayed,"Dear God, please don't let me ever in a million zillion years have to be near the likes of a grasshopper-losery someone like him! Amen." (Uh-huh, me attaching a "Y" to the end of some words actually did have an early beginning.)

BUT WOULDN'T YOU KNOW it? Over the last several years (31 to be exact), but, come to think of it, probably just midway into that first one, I came to realize

(FOUR WORDS:)

I MARRIED ME ONE.
(It's not the spitting, so much,
but rather the lack of ambition that alarms me most.)

RATS to time after time, deep-sighly finding myself asking me, "Why, oh, why didn't you companion up with a hard-working,

lusty farmer?"

OR maybe better yet,

an ant?!
*suddenly becomes a
"'Magic That is Me!' Bug" bug bite recipient*

OR how 'bout

a moose who occasional wears
a straw hat,
because, hey, I hear there's money in TV!
. . . . . .

Er... Honey?
If you're reading this,

Baby, it's cold outside.
And, it's gonna to get even "colder,"
if you don't at least take the garbage out already.

. . . . . . .

HM.

SHALL WE TRY TO sew this up on a brighter note?
LET'S SHALL!

AN "AGAIN, ABOUT THE CARTOON" BY THE BY: Ever since I was a smitch sitting two inches away from The Tube, watching Disney's A Mickey Mouse Cartoon called "The Grasshopper and the Ants," I've been thinking I couldn't be happier than if I lived in that tree stump that the ants do! What do you mean, "What tree stump? What ants?" You didn't watch the above video, did you? Well, then, I guess you'd better get hoppin'!

Laughing out loudly yours,
SparkleFarkle~~~~~*

Rest in peace, my Mollo and ZuZu.

Today, Musical Jewelry Box Ballerina Pink is My Favourite Colour!

2011-12-12T09:35:00.009-06:00

"Do This, or Go Mad" REMINDER: Turn off my Playlist (located waaay downly in my blog "cellar.") before you cash in on the next-up. Thankee!

FOUR WORDS:

Forever gaga for Gaga!

Off to the livingroom to twirl like

a fancy dancer
set at lunatic speed-ly yours,
SparkleFarkle~~~~~*

Rest in peace, my Mollo and Zuzie.

P.S. HECK, I'M FEELING so good that I bet I could even pull off the circus-y, balancing-on-her-Percheron,

tutued Bareback Rider's act
as well!

THREE more WORDS (only, this time, pleady/beggy):

Wish me luck?

(Thanks!--> Great of you!)

P.P.S. YES, IT'S TRUE: I consider "Bareback Rider" to be proper nouny, because, in my book, it's a darn-BIG significant job title.

Smells Like Christmas Spirit? I’m Afraid Not.

2011-12-11T10:18:00.007-06:00

Light-the-way beacon or schnozzola cap?
Perhaps Rudolph was merely on to Dave.
(Confusey? Please to continue the read.)

How low can you go?

THE GIST: Use the photo provided by GG as inspiration for a story of 140 characters or 140 words. (It doesn’t have to be exactly 140, just not more.) Oh?! *nods an impressed head* You want an even BIGGER challenge?! Then incorporate the word of the week into your flash tale. This Monday's assignment is "diligent," which I chose to skip, since that smitch of the game is optional. <-–Whew! and thank God, because I don't need that kind o' preshah!

HERE’S
December 12th ’s picture
AND my story:

AS THEIR HEADS parted after having just put them my-nose-is-stinging-how-‘bout-yours urgently and brain-stormy together, Sheila and Corrine quietly nodded a “YES, we will be getting Dave the Axe Deodorant Body Spray for Christmas!” to each other. –37 words

FOUR WORDS of warning, aimed directly at Overhead “people,” Yuletidey or t’otherwise, come Santa Claus morning:

Even angels will fall.

Missed you all last go-round;
good to be back in the Succinctly Yours game-ly,
Queen of the Hyphens SparkleFarkle~~~~~*

Rest in peace, my Mollo and ZuZu.

Perhaps It's an Early Lump of Coal? Well, I Honestly Didn't See That Coming...

2011-12-09T05:34:00.011-06:00

TEMPLATE DIFFICULTIES UPDATE: Quicker than an up-the-chimney-rising Jolly Ol' St. Nick, Miss Elegia at Elegia's Background Gardens has responded to my email-y cry for Heeelp! and is spit-spot at The Elegia Controls, efforting to find the format-remedy to cure my oh, so lovely but ailing templates! Thank-you over and againly, Elegia. Most certainly, Santa Claus will put a little something extra in your Christmas stocking this year!

Det. Johnny Monkey, SA Red Kettle bell ringer during his downtime.

SO, YESTERDAY late, I come on blogspot to post my 8th SparkleFarkled Advent Calendar virtual giveaway (Sorry, little friend, you're too late.), only to find my blog template is now the size of an index card!? What the heck? And, for the cripes sake, COME ON. *frustratey tears stream down* I don't want for much. Just ask Santa.

ONE last WORD: HEEELP!

(HM. COME TO think of it... *runs to check templates displayed on other two pre-existing blogs: A Long Walk in the Woods and Drottning av Snowbin* How curious. A Long Walk’s design by Shabby Blogs is doing fine, while Drottning av Snowbin (a template courtesy of Elegia’s Backgound Garden, which is the same bloggy-freebee place Sparkle’s Soup of the Day’s look comes from. Like I said, CURIOUS.) is up to no good! I’d best be reporting that to The Monkey.)

I've tried everything to correct
this bloggy blunder-ly yours,
SparkleFarkle~~~~~*
Rest in peace, my Mollo and ZuZu.

P.S. IN CASE anybody's interested (Who am I kidding? No one's checked in here since a few minutes after the second pre-Christmas door opened. No, I'm not bitter. Or humbuggy. Sad pretty much covers it, though...), on account of too many "Sorry, Charlies" aimed subtly but directly at Yours Tah-ruly, I guess, The SparkleFarkle Advent Calendar has flown the coop.
P.P.S. OH, THAT'S right. How could I forget? It's Jack Handey Friday! Have a good one and let it begin with me:

(What I'm about to throw in)

"THERE SHOULD BE a detective show called Johnny Monkey, because every week you could have a guy say 'I ain't gonna get caught by no MONKEY,' but then he would, and I don't think I'd ever get tired of that." -- Jack Handey

Headed-out-to-hire-me-a-Johnny-Monkey-because-maybe-just-maybe-he-can-solve-my-confound-itty-blog-template-problemly yours- (and love, thanks, and a fond farewell),
SparkleFarkle~~~~~~*

Happy Gobble Gobs Day!

2011-11-24T01:32:00.008-06:00

Great-Great Grandma SparkleFarkle (far left) and family, Thanksgiving, Ca. 1900
EIGHT WORDS:
I was lucky enough to inherit the Nesco!

Weirdly appetite-curbing, eh?
A THANKSGIVING PRAYER
For food and all Thy gifts of love,
We give Thee thanks and praise.
Look down, O Father, from above,
And bless us all our days.
Amen.

HAPPY
Thanksgiving, EVERYBODY!

AND PLEASE (AND THANK YOU!)
TO REMEMBER
The Farkle Family
Thanksgiving Day
Rule of Thumb:

"What do you mean 'a fork's not a shovel'?!"
--a very young SparkleFarkle, Thanksgiving 1959
Moderation is overrated.

Best wishes,
SF~~~~~*
Rest in peace, my Mollo and Zuzie.

We (hic!) Gather To (hic!) gether...

2011-11-19T20:08:00.019-06:00

THE GIST: Use the photo provided by GG as inspiration for a story of 140 characters or 140 words. (It doesn’t have to be exactly 140, just not more.) Oh?! *nods an impressed head* You want an even BIGGER challenge?! Then incorporate the word of the week into your flash tale! This Monday's assignment is "beholden," which I chose to skip, since that smitch of the game is optional. <-–Whew! and thank God, because I don't need that kind o' presha!

PRELUDE TO A SUCCINCTLY YOURS INSTALLMENT: This week's image reminds me of an incredible (Heck, I'd even go as far as to say

ONE WORD:

amaizing!)

life-chapter a friend once shared with me about his grandmother, whom he was “lucky” enough to have living with him and his family when he was a kid.

SINCE BOTH OF his parents worked, it was a house rule that Tom and his sister, Teresa, had to announce their arrival home from school (or wherever), to the next-in-charge: Grandma Dorn, an extremely uneven-faced (<--No kidding, I guess "YIKES!" hardly covered it.), LARGE-hearted ♥, really, really old woman (<--"Nearly a fossil," so says Tommyboy. And I believe him, because a liar he is not. In fact, Tom has also told me how, many times back in the day, he would have to "kindly" offer to "lop off" any body part belonging to his grandmother, thusly conveniencing all skeptics who might want to "count her rings," which he claimed numbered "to infinity and beyond and, yeah, probably back again, too."), who was also asdeaf as she was old.

SO, NO MATTER what, the kids had to let out a BIG “We’re home, Grandma Dorn!” as soon as the screen door slammed behind them (OR ELSE!) to let their ♥ loving caretaker know that they were "in," even though Tom and his sister were pretty sure their gram could barely hear them, if she did at all. However, Grandma Dorn most certainly felt the house move a smitch whenever the "screen" thundered.

ONE DAY, the two sibs, both now in their late teens and coming home from having just paid an after-schoolly, very intoxicating visit to a friend's house--as well as that friend's away-parent's (Voilà!-->) unlocked-with-a-bobby-pin liquor cabinet--thought they had their drunk-laughing selves composed enough to make it through the screen door without giving themselves completely away. (<--Whoa! Some kind of weird, long sentence, eh?) SO, THEY DID.

"SLAM!" went the door.

"Tommy? Tressie? Is that you, kids?" high-voice squeaked their unseen grandmother, apparently (and fortunately for Tom and Teresa) none the wiser. An ultra-tipsy Tom, giving his giggle-stifling sister a nod, <--a signal to her that he indeed had it all under control, proceeded to herald the both of them "in":

(HERE’S
November 21st’s picture
AND my story:)

"We're bone, Can of Corn!" --22 characters

Bada bing, bada boomly yours,
SparkleFarkle~~~~~*

Rest in peace, my Mollo, ZuZu, and ~~Can of Corn~~ Grandma Dorn.

Something to Keep In Mind: Vampires Used to Be People, Too, You Know.

2011-11-17T18:51:00.000-06:00

"ONE THING VAMPIRE children have to be taught early on is, don't run with wooden stakes." --Jack Handey

HAPPY
(early) Jack Handey
FRIDAY!
. . . . . . .

Bad Crab Cake

"The film [Twilight: Breaking Dawn - Part 1] is like a crab cake with three or four bits of crab surrounded by loads of bland stuffing, but many can't tell the difference or don't care, which will largely be true for its captive audience." --Todd McCarthy, The Hollywood Reporter

DESPITE THE BAD reviews it's been getting, critic-proofy Puppet (my daughter) and I are headed to the theater in a couple of hours, where we will join legions of diehard fans to watch Twilight: Breaking Dawn - Part 1, the latest movie in the Twilight vampire romance series. This go-round, Bella Swan (Kristen Stewart) and her major blood-sucking (And I mean that in the nicest way, Cullen Clan.) beau Edward Cullen (Robert Pattinson) finally wed before their strong and fast-growing vampire fetus threatens to destroy their bliss.

WHY DO WE find this impossible plot line
so ridiculously appealing, you might ask?

Because
WHY NOT?!

EIGHT WORDS:
*sings in best Taylor Swiftiest voice*

It's a love story, baby,
just say yes!

HM.

I WANTED TO close this with some sort of clever vampire-y pun, but heck, haven't we heard them all ALREADY? I'll leave you with this instead. It kinda fills the bill:

Blood oranges are just the worst case
of false advertising ever.

Luv,
SparkleFarkle~~~~~*
Rest in peace, my Mollo and Zuzie.

Let's Go to the Hop (Oh Baby)!

2011-11-16T11:29:00.010-06:00

"THIS YEAR we're having the words 'There's more gravy in the kitchen' stitched right on the napkins." --Robert Brault

. . . . I simply love the quote above! . . . .

Becky Povich, over tah Becky Povich: Writer Searching for Bliss, is holding her first ever "sort of" Blog Hop and it's for her friend,

Robert Brault,

who has this to say about himself: "I am a free-lance writer who has contributed to magazines and newspapers in the USA for over 40 years. I offer my writings HERE as an entertainment only, pursuing no agenda and promoting no political philosophy."

THEN, MISS POVICH gets the ball rolling: "This is not a typical Blog Hop where people are expected to go around and comment on everyone else's. Instead just write about one of Robert's sayings/quotes on your own blog, and then add your blog in the Linky, and then you are included in the drawing."

YES, this is a giveaway! You, too, may join in to have a chance at winning a brand spankin' new

Robert Brault-y 2012 Calendar,
or a Set of 12 Note Cards.

(And if you don't win here, you can purchase them at very reasonable prices over tah A Robert Brault Reader, where you'll find Mr. Brault and tons more of the great stuff he has to say!)

HERE ARE

the simple steps

you'll be following if you choose to participate in the Blog Hop, and I know you will (because, come on and heck, do you really want to sit this one out? Robert's great!):

1) Visit Robert Brault's blog and read some of his fabulous thoughts and quotes. Don't just read the first page, there are months and months of archives....all full of gems!
2) Then add your blog in Mr. Linky, over tah Becky's.
3) Post something on your blog about Robert, or his quotes, which one(s) you like the best, etc.

THREE WORDS:

Hop to it!

Good luck but not too much,
because I wanna win this thing-ly,
SparkleFarkle~~~~~*
Rest in peace, my Mollo and ZuZu.

SparkleFarkle Just Goes Nuts At Christmas!

2011-11-15T18:30:00.002-06:00

Vintage magazine with Santy Claus and Yours Truly

going Yuletidey insane on the cover!

Yogi Yorgesson ~~tells~~ sings it like it is,
and best:

Oh, I yust go nuts at Christmas
On that yolly holiday
I’ll go in the red like a knucklehead
Cuz I'll squander all my pay.

Oh, I yust go nuts at Christmas
Shopping sure drives me berserk
On the day before, I rush in a store
Like a pure bewildered yerk.

I look at nightgowns for my wife
Those black ones trimmed in red
But I won’t know her size and so
She'll get

a carpet sweeper
instead.

Oh, I yust go nuts at Christmas
When each kid hangs up his sock
It's a time for kids to flip their lids
While their papa goes in hock.

On the night before Christmas
It's still in the house
My family is sleeping
So I'm quiet like a mouse.

I look at my watch and midnight is near
I think I'll sneak off for a cold glass of beer
Down at the corner, the crowd is so merry
I end up by drinking about 12

Tom & Yerry
I get to bed late and gee whiz how I'm sleeping
When on to my bed those darn kids they come leaping
They sit on my face and they yump on my belly
And I'm quivering all over like a bowl full of yelly.

They scream Merry Christmas, and my poor wife and me
We stumble downstairs and she lights up the tree
My head is exploding, my mouth tastes like

a pickle
I step on a skate and fall on a tricycle.

Yust before Christmas dinner, I relax to a point
Then relatives start swarming all over the yoint
On Christmas, I hug and I kiss my wife's mother
The rest of the year we don't speak to each other.

After dinner, my Aunt and my wife's Uncle Louie
Get into an argument; they're both awful screwy
Then all my wife's family say Louie is right
And my goofy relations, they yoin in the fight.

Back in the corner, the radio is playing
And over the racket Gabriel Heater is saying
"Peace on earth everybody and good will toward men"
And yust at that moment, someone slugs Uncle Ben.
They all run outside whooping so the neighbors will hear
Oh, I'm so glad Merry Christmas
comes yust once a year.

Oh, I yust go nuts at Christmas
But I still have lots of fun
Yust the same as you, I enyoy it too
Merry Christmas, Everyone!

I couldn't agree more, Yogi.
Allow me to caboose it with
Cha, cha, cha!

SIX WORDS:

"It yust goes down so smood!"
--Yogi Yorgesson, talking about ~~beer~~ Christmas!

Yingle bells, yingle bells, yingle all the way-ly,
SparkleFarkle~~~~~*

Rest in peace, my Mollo and ZuZu.

P.S. Like my brand spankin' new holiday blog-togs? I know it's a smitch early. Heck, Thanksgiving hasn't even happened yet. The thing is, I just can't wait!

Motivationally Speaking

2011-11-13T08:16:00.024-06:00

{PLEASE TO REMEMBER to turn the volume to O-F-F on my “Over the River and Through the Woods” before you cLiCkY-cLiCkY the > to get the For-Your-Viewing-Pleasure video, below, rolling. Thanks! –The Management

ONE WORD:
Classic!

. . . . . . .

(I GREW UP (<--Please politely refain from wisecracking. Thank you.) in the home of an aunt, who was a “d*** good Chief Cook and Bottle Washer, if I do say so myself" (Yes, Mert often times did capitalize it.), and a knuckle (<--Farkled way of saying “uncle.” Aw, come on. By now, you should be used to it me.), who was the best house painter. Did I say ever? EVER. Yep. To this day, I may be a barely-capable-of-making-ice-cubesy, horrible housekeeper, but, at the drop of a

paint cap, I would still change my name to Paint Chip if I could. (I love ya, Knuckle Matt. That is forever ♥. You, too, Aunt Myrtle. I'm sorry to say, though, that a good share of my adult life is not made up of dusting. You're going to be okay, I promise. I KNOW SO. So, stop rolling over in your grave already.)

WELCOME TO the happily-hosted-by-Grandma’s-Goulash Succinctly Yours, a perfectly wonderful meme that picks up where our dearly departed Microfiction Monday left off by asking the burning question:

How low can you go?

(The above image and following excerpt ~~intentionally swiped~~ courteously borrowed from The Brady Bunch Blog, for necessary Succinctly Yours entry effect-->)"WHEN THE ELUSIVE Checker Trading Stamp Company announced its impending close, the boys and girls battled it out to see who'd inherit the Brady family fortune of stamps. Logically enough, these stamps could be redeemed for sewing machines (what the girls wanted), row boats (for the boys), or color television sets (what the family settled on). This place was so popular, and so inexplicably lucrative, that it even had its own store (We must remember that the Bradys never enjoyed Amazon.com, eBay, or Craigslist.).

TO DETERMINE THE WINNER of these bountiful documents, the Sensational Six engage in a nail-biting game of Russian roulette. No, wait, wrong episode. They build a house of cards. Whoever is responsible for the physical destruction of this house is to blame for the symbolic destruction of the team. He or she will be sent off to live with the Kellys or Dittmeyers next door." [Nary a fret be yours, Brady loser, things could be worse. Much worse. Much, much, MUCH, much worse. READ ON.)

THE GIST: Use the photo provided by GG as inspiration for a story of 140 characters or 140 words. (It doesn’t have to be exactly 140, just not more.) Oh?! *nods an impressed head* You want an even BIGGER challenge?! Then incorporate the word of the week into your flash tale! This Monday's assignment is "serene," which I chose to skip, since that smitch of the game is optional. <-–Whew! and thank God, because I don't need that kind o' presha!

HERE’S
November 14th’s picture
AND my story:

Painted Skyscraper Blue (No. 2066-70) and topped with a tad of Whipped Cream (No. 2160-70), it was hardly noticeable that Charla did indeed live in a house of cards. (Right next to Matt Foley, livin' in a van down by the river!) –42 words

NINE more WORDS:

The world truly misses you,
Mr. Farley, especially mine.

"In a universe of nearly 3,400 Benjamin Moore (The guy who could be my real father. I’m just saying.) colours, I like to think of myself as being more Raspberry Blush (No. 2079-30) than Vanilla (No. 1066)"-ly yours,
SparkleFarkle~~~~~*

Rest in peace, my Mollo, ZuZu, Knuckle Matt, Aunt Mert, and Chris Farley.

P.S. SPOILER ALERT! For those of you
apparently living under rocks:

"ULTIMATELY, AFTER LOSING a round of 'When Tiger Attacks,' Johnny Bravo is to blame for the girl's victory. They race off to the store, which is about to close forever.

THE GIRLS ARE momentarily distracted by a beauty parlor set, but Carol reminds them they came for a sewing machine and not even the Second Coming will deter them. And besides, as Marcia points out, 'We can make some groovy dresses!'

A DEBATE AS TO WHICH sewing machine ultimately gives way to the harmonious decision to redeem the stamps for a color television set. No more black and white reruns of

Hazel
for this happy family.
Shirley Booth will be in color!" --The Brady Bunch Blog

THE MORAL OF THE STORY,
or at least the way
I SparkleFarklely see it:

COME HELL or high water,
or merely down by the river,

~~History~~ Herstory does
repeat ~~itself~~ herself.

Got 'Em? Send 'Em In.

2011-11-11T10:20:00.008-06:00

DESPITE THE FACT that Halloween is over,

it lingers in my air.

TWO WORDS:
Jack Handeyism.

"I REMEMBER HOW, in college, I got a part-time job as a circus clown, and how the children would laugh and laugh at me. I vowed, then and there, that I would get revenge." --Jack Handey

HAPPY
Jack Handey
FRIDAY,
all!

Gonna buy me some great BIG, red, floppy shoes this weekend, how 'bout youly,
SparkleFarkle~~~~~*
Rest in peace, my Mollo and Zuzie.

P.S. Guess what
my signature ~~asterisk~~ "sparkle" is, today?
CORRECTOMUNDO!
If you said

clown nose!

That's the Way She Crumbles

2011-11-07T09:52:00.005-06:00

I THINK I'll take a crack (<--Crack, cracker, get it? You will in a second.) at the alphabet, today. We'll see how far I get.

is for animal crackers!
WHEW! ONLY TWENT-five more letters to go!
. . . . . . . . .

BY THE by,

(Elephant animal cracker or proboscis monkey?
"Enquiring minds want to know." --National Enquirer)
don't forget:

SIXTEEN WORDS:

"IT'S NOT REALLY giving if you give away the animal crackers with missing heads and feet." --Cynthia Copeland Lewis, Really Important Stuff My Kids Have Taught Me

Eat 'em up, eat 'em up, chew, chew-ly,
SparkleFarkle~~~~~*
Rest in peace, my Mollo and ZuZu.

Close, But No Cigar

2011-11-06T12:19:00.012-06:00

THE GIST: Use the photo provided by GG as inspiration for a story of 140 characters or 140 words. (It doesn’t have to be exactly 140, just not more.) Oh?! *nods an impressed head* You want an even BIGGER challenge?! Then incorporate the word of the week into your flash tale! This Monday's assignment is "repugnant," which I chose to skip, since that smitch of the game is optional. <-–Whew! and thank God, because I don't need that kind o' presha!

HERE’S
November 7th’s picture
AND my story:

"TWIRL, YOU IDIOT, TWIRL!" Justine commanded Josiette, who was embarrassed beyond repair when her know-it-all sister once again missed the mark, this time, while leading a game of Spin the Bottle. --thirty-one words

TWO more WORDS:
Chug-a-lug, chug-a-lug!

Drink up-ly,
SparkleFarkle~~~~~*
Rest in peace, my Mollo, ZuZu, and Mr. Andy Rooney.

IMAGE CREDIT: Spin-the-Bottle Snapshot/vintagecottagehome.blogspot.com

Side Note:

2011-11-05T08:34:00.005-05:00

"I don't know what came over me. At first I thought it was gonna be just the one piece. Then, next thing you know, I was hand-over-fisting!" --SparkleFarkle, presently doing a post-feedbag Gut Tango with the holiday residuals.

THE EXTRA Halloween candy
is not a Food Group.

It's too late for me,
but for you,

THREE WORDS:

Just say no.

Marginally gastrointestinally feeling okay-ly,
SparkleFarkle~~~~~*
Rest in peace, Mollo, Zuzie, and my stomach
Image Credits:
Candy pile: PerkiomenValleyPatch
Ghost Candy Hand-outer: dentablog.dom

All I Want for Christmas Is...

2011-11-03T22:18:00.003-05:00

ONE WORD:

Wonderstruck: Won´der`struck`:
a. 1. Struck with wonder, admiration, or surprise.
n. 1. All I want for Christmas!

IF YOU'VE BEEN been living under a (YIKES?! Self-imposed?!-->) "I couldn't care less about Taylor Swift (<--WHAT?! What are you saying?! That's preposterous, because who in their right mind doesn't like American's sweetheartiest country pop singer-songwriter, musician and actress Taylor Swift?! Oh, well, your loss. Your BIG loss. Your BIG, BIG loss. The BIGGEST. No, I'm not getting carried away. She is that good. I kid you not. Why, yes. Yes, I am her biggest fan.) or, for that matter, couldn't care even lesser about her new fragrance, that of which she has “warm, spicy tones” and “caramel notes — I really love that!" to say about it" rock, then you probably haven't gotten wind (<--A matchless word choice indeedy, as well as a matchlessly scented one!) of Wonderstruck, her premiere for-sale essence, which Missy Taylor further describes as "a dreamy, autumnal mix that’s the perfect complement to the cooling weather and colder seasons." And God knows how much I absolutely love

(You remembered that about me, didn't cha, huh? *as heart-cockles warm, sticks out tongue to catch an equally warm Warm Fuzzy on it* Yep, I knew you would ♥. Thanks!) All that combined finds Wonderstruck at the top of my Christmas List this year!

AND, DEAREST SANTY CLAUS, I want that ad dress Swift is donning, too, because immediately after being ~~perfume-sniped~~ enchantingly Wonderstricken yesterday at Macy's, ~~the generous gulp squirted on me by a rabid, hired "hand" as I incognizantly trooped through Cosmetics~~ the aromatic smudges, ever so delicately dabbed behind each of my ears (those of which hadn’t truly lived till now) with a Wonderstruck-saturated, soft-spun cotton ball skillfully managed by a Ballet Pink-smocked Special Events Sales Associate, left me feeling *Dreamy-Thinking Bug begins to nibble Sparkle*...oh...I dunno...*Dreamy-Thinking Bug then takes a big bite outy da Farkle. Actually, make that a chunk!)* like I had just been plucked out of a fairytale! So, I'm thinking I'd better have just the right "something" to wear, come Christmas morning, when an excitey me dives under O Tannenbaum, where my giant bottle of Wonderstruck,

swagged with
Taylor Swift-significant charms,

not to forget the flawless beauty of freesia, apple blossom and raspberry spark, a swirl of vibrancy and feminine allure, a sweet surprise of blissful vanilla embellished by airy, sun-drenched honeysuckle and white hibiscus and notes of golden amber and sandalwood woven with a smooch (Muah!) of lush peach that is included in every droplet of every misting, awaits me!

Does it show?
I highly endorse this stuff.
Er, you're welcome,
Miss Swift!

. . . . . . .
By the by, it's
HAPPY
Jack Handey
FRIDAY
time!

(OUCH, Santa, because, man, that's gotta hurt!)

"IF YOU EVER have to steal money from your kid, and later he discovers it's gone, a good thing to do is blame it on Santa Claus." --Jack Handey

Ho! Ho! Ho!-ly atomizered,
SparkleFarkle~~~~~*
Rest in peace, my Mollo and ZuZu.