Farkle! There's Yahtzee All Over Me, & I'm Headed Down South

Farkle.

I don't know WTF it is, but it stands out, doesn't it?

As in "I farkled all over your face".

"I farkled IN your face".

"I farkled my way to the top".

"I farkled your sister at the laundry mat".

"You shut yer goddamn farklehole!"

And I'm looking at this shit thinking "God, this game's gotta be fuckin' great!"

What if someone goes into like, a Farkle fuckin' fit of rage & grabs you during game play, farkles your shirt all up, & starts farkling off at the mouth....

This is one of those things you gotta play in a bullet proof vest apparently.

Then there are probably different variations of Farkle. Like "Street Farkle", "Farkle All-Stars", and "Farkle Your Mom, She Doesn't Call Me Anymore". Parker Brothers is working on a deal, or an LP.

All I know about Farkle is it's a cup with some dice.

I'm Farkle, and I'm farkin' purple, and if you got a farkin' problem with that I'll farkle your farklin'  face off."

Yet it has one of the best f'n names EVER!

And it's said there are a lot of risks inside that box, so Farkle is somewhat like a hooker too.

And then this lil risk-taker came along & had EVERYTHING to do with Farkle, according to Google.

If I didn't know what Farkle was, but saw this as my first result it would be pretty self-explanatory.

Apparently when a gnome takes a crap it's a Farkle. 

You learn something new everyday.

Which makes me wonder what unicorn manure would do to my garden.

So, next time you see yourself face to face with this wonder, ask yourself  "Farkle.......Why?.... Who sent you?"

It's a magic word. Like, every time you say it, you feel like there should be a glittery trail of fuck sparkling behind it.

I have no idea what that means. 

Or why I'm writing any of this.

A. Giant. Fuck. Rainbow!

Farkling in the sun.

(Sometimes I go into gaming mode & last week was one such time, and after standing in the aisles of Target in a daze, this word started to rape my mind. I could feel it violating me from the shelf, and knew what had to be done. Farkle, I shall commemorate you on ye olde blog, then expose you for the rapist that you are.)

...................................................

Anywho.

Now that I've gotten something off my chest that's been on my mind for weeks after a night of staring this phenomenon square in the face & then watching a game of Monopoly get nasty & go down for 6+ hours & nearly involve the mob....

He looks nice, doesn't he? Cute lil mustache midget with a bow tie, can't seem to find his monocle?

Wait till you don't pay him his money & let his hooker's corners go to shit & next thing you know you're riding to a hospital with one arm, squashed between this Grey Poupon eatin' muthafucka & a loan shark named Barry, getting ready to tuck & roll.

let's get onto the south part already...

Flaaaahrida.

Aside from the gators & the weird shit, my other home.

It seems as though I'll either be driving or flying down within the next week.

I'll keep you posted.

Don't Farkle yourself too much while I'm gone.

Another Season Down, Another Year Older, and Fall Is Here

Well, it's official. The apples are ripe, crisps are being made, hoodies are being worn, and I'm another year closer to Keith Richards, which is inspiring.

I seem to think I'm on Iron Chef lately.

Thank YOU, Google image!

This is totally what happens when the coffee runs out in my house.

Disclaimer: I am definitely not cooking babies. Thank the mystery behind the machine.

You ain't just whistlin' dixie, and they ain't just pounding cutlets.

 I spend hours in the kitchen cooking & working on insane baking projects. It makes harvesting from your garden much more fun too. Which is why next year I'll have the whole yard dug up, and cows & chickens, and how fuckin' cool would it be to never run out of milk, and cheese, and eggs, and  psilocybin?!

Anyway, this isn't about running through fields of buttercups & teets & shit.

It's just a passing thought I had today. Fuck, butter for baking gets expensive. How does Paula Dean do it? She must have lil garden gnomes outside the door churning that shit like clockwork.

So, there's something I failed to mention.

As I have mentioned before, I live in the top half of the large multi-family New England home my parents bought when I was born.

Now, not only did I grow up spending my weekends basically living on a boat, but we always had a pool. We also always had a cherry tree that was planted when my sister was born, and a peach tree that was planted when I was born. 

Well, there was devastation when my dad had decided to cut down those trees because supposedly he didn't like how all the leaves fell in the pool. So, a few years after that he also got rid of the pool right along with everything else good about our yard; raspberry bushes too. They send people to hell for destroying these things.

Don't give a drunk man the wrong types of  tools to play with. Or just, probably not any for that matter.

(Though dad wasn't a drunk per say, he liked to drink on the weekends & work on the house/land/cars & fuck everything up, thinking he was doing a job well done.)

Here's where I get to the point.

He put in a new pool with a heater & all 2 years ago. He has since built a deliberate orchard around it.

A. Whole. Fucking. Orchard.

(2 apple, 2 peach, 1 nectarine, 2 pear, 2 plum)

That's 9 trees, buddy

Is he just rubbing his hands waiting for the day they get big enough for him to go chainsaw happy?

They're investing in another home in Florida within the year. Maybe their plan is to stick me with the maintenance back here.

In that case, thanks for the orchard. It's beautiful.

What the hell is wrong with you?

One man's leaf infested pool is another man's.....orchard? 

The same man's in another time?

Either way, no need to go to an apple farm.

Hey there, peaches.

Dig in.

Anyone know how to press & make hard cider?

No pumpkins makes me angry.

Now I have to go finish building a junk yard out of gingerbread.

I Failed. A Maybe Not-So-Triumphant Return & My Jungle Exploded Down There

But lemme explain why I failed.

Blogging tends to suck me in. It tends to take up a lot of my time between thinking/writing up posts, keeping up with all readers & other blogs, finding & getting sucked into new ones, etc... It sucks me into this never ending online web. I've yet to find my perfect balance. Maybe it's this ADHD, and always being onto some new project.

This summer's line up of events has been non-stop, on top of the fact that when this season hits, I go into another mode entirely. I just couldn't keep up with it all at once, esp. the sitting at the computer so much with so many beautiful days to enjoy. I had to put something down for a while. Unfortunately, that something had to be the blogging.

The chain of events has been non-stop - Lung Surgery Recovery > Florida > Sister's Bridal Shower & Wedding Preparation > Music Festival > Best Friend Visiting from England > Wedding Coming Up > Birthday Coming Up, and still possibly yet another music festival followed by yet another Florida vacation, so even though I've made a pact to myself to return to blogging, there still may be no end in sight to this streak of events that's added to keeping me off the internets so much.

I know that doesn't seem like much to hold me back or keep me busy, but there's plenty going on in between all that as well, trust me.

So, I took a summer vacation. I had to.

In fact, I don't even know where to begin here, which stories of my triumphs, trials, and tribulations to even share first, so I guess I'll bore you right now by starting with the bridal shower & the garden of roid raged doom.

My sister is marrying Bozo the clown this weekend.

Actual picture of what I predict on the wedding day.

I have to stop myself from making a speech at this wedding similar to Steve Buscemi's in The Wedding Singer, and I know in my already anticipating the drunkenness heart, that is going to be an impossibility because I am a goddamn bastard.

And there's surely some good goddamn comedy behind this whole scenario, but like lots of things brought up here, that's another story for another time.

I can't write a novel here. You'd all be throwing tomatoes at your monitors, and that's a damn bad waste of good tomato sauce.

In this chain of events my sister decided she wanted me to make her a cupcake tower for her bridal shower, and I was up for 4 days straight making 3 different kinds of cakes, chocolate hearts covered in edible glitter, and running a bakery out of my goddamn house.

Is this all hypnotizing you? Cupcakes make you happy in the pants, don't they?

Well, don't get too excited. There's broccoli involved in this post.

Master professional-like baker? You bet your ass.

("The Mad Baker" is the name)

Yet another story for another time? You bet your ass, but it's coming soon with the holiday season ahead.

Let's move onto some news about this jungle in my pants, shall we?

Sorry, I mean, my garden. Yard. Fuck, whatever!

(Martha Stewart will never have the class I can possess.)

The Power of Shit

Cow shit that is.

We're going to go through a series of photos here taking a look at the progression, but keep in mind, it's going to get pretty fucked up at some point here. I seemed to have misjudged spacing just a bit this year. 

*Bites tongue*

Now.....

Do you see it? The perfect formation, perfect spacing?

Now....Listen to me. Listen good.

Do not put tomato plants in your garden, esp. when you have every space filled in with something else you had mapped & planned perfectly, and also in soil filled with a high-strength fertilizer.

There are 5 separate boxed off lil gardens & 3 of them are now 1. They've merged, kind of like Trapper Keeper 5,000.

Somehow....

Everything is still growing under all this, from the watermelons to the cauliflower, butternut squash, pickling cucumbers, beans & pea pods. Every single thing, and without a mark or bite on it from the Super Seven.

(Get your hands on some of that shiz. Not one pest issue all season.)

After it was weeded. Clearly fishing for the fruited vegetables is a delicate get your face bitten off situation.

(Lil mosquitos & bees, sure, but mind you, there could be sharks in there. I thought I saw a bear all lost in there once, and we all know, where there are bears there are sharks.)

After the hurricane, unfortunately. Blown over squash stems & a few snapped zucchini stems, but sure enough this jacked up, roid enraged garden survived.

Hell yeah, I grew my own lettuce. But that garden is a lil too sad looking & picked over right now to see.

How about one of my cow shit zucchinis over a store bought zucchini...

Invest in cow shit, people!!

Can't go on forever here can I?

Also, I had to start somewhere.

We'll just have to see how I keep up.

Oh Hai, Explosions Anyone?

Bloggers, how the hell ya been?!

*Blows confetti out the back door*
(and not the one with the knob if you know what I mean. Although, I can assure you I have no knob, cept those two that rest atop my chesticles)

As most of you know (unless you're hiding in a cave banging a polar bear), last weekend was the 4th of July here in America - Ya know, when we get all redneck-style drunk, eat sausages, and blow shit up as we tear over how beautiful of a celebration it is, or rather it's just the liquor making us cry. Whatever it may be, it can get emotional. Esp. if the explosions are too much to handle........ and this year in my neck of the woods, they certainly were!

Now, if I hadn't mentioned it before, my next door neighbor works for the light company. A few years back he lost his strict & overbearing father and has since gone right back to the good ol' age of 16, partying in the garage with his grown sons on a daily basis, drinking massive quantities of beer, and blowing up the whole neighborhood with illegal explosives.

So, three years ago Mahk decides he's going to outdo the entire town and their cheesy town fireworks display with his display and a block party that has since expanded to an open house bash between 4 neighborhood houses with an attendance way into the triple digits.

We just happen to have the best seat in the whole neighborhood every year because they go off right over our backyard, and this is only a taste.

That noise after the explosion is the friggin' enormity of the neighborhood shindig.

A bunch of us were watching the fountain of fire shoot up from the trailer while fusion bombs went through the sky & we actually just lost it laughing. You didn't know what else to do. I've seen fireworks shows, big & small, all over the place my whole life, and none of us had ever seen anything like it.

My mother's a bit wild at heart, even pushing 60, and had my poor 80 year old grandparents in the corner sitting through this. My lil nana has very high anxiety & heart rhythm problems, got very scared, and, well, it kind of pissed me off my mother was that stupid.

Now, there were a few friends & family members occupying my house & backyard (about 25 or so), and here you can see the party gone wild & hear my super twit sister suggest we should have opened our yard to hundreds of sweaty drunk college kids with terrible Boston accents. 

Silly bitch....

You're grammatically incorrect, sistarella. It's "YAAAHHHD", not "YARD", queeftaht. Go back to Nebraska!

(We don't really get along too well. She's a flake & I'm a hardass. It's like oil & water)

"I'm gonna spread sum fuckin' butta all over this heah stah spankgled banna, guy. Where's my beeah, and a fourk I can stiab some assbag heah in the face with, guy?"

Gotta. Love. The. North Shore

Did you know I made it through about 10 minutes of "The Depahted" before I started looking for where my vest full of grenades & machine guns were at?

Quit talking like that! It makes you look frackin fucked up & uncivilized.

Boston, Connecticut, Rhode Island, parts of New Hampshah & Maine, you heard me...
(And try not to take offense with this from someone who's been living here their whole life. Unless you have the heavy accent. Then go take some speech classes fer christsake)

Jersey & New Yawk, don't get me stahted. You're certainly not safe.

Whew! You know what... I really flew of topic here, but that explosion's been waiting to happen for a while.
Ever since Lily DiCaprio showed up on my screen trying to be like Chaalie from down the street.

Welcome to the north east! We have baboons & beer! And lots & LOTS of Yuengling, guy!

ONWARD!!

Here are some bewbs to keep your attention.

No. Fucking. Way!
I would beat your ass with your own shoes if you ever came around me wearing these.

You know...... this whole post is just failing terribly! Gawd!


Now, look. Even though last year I was in sunny Florida for 3 weeks during the 4th, I was quite bummed I wasn't here for Mahk's end of the world block pahty, and also that when trying to make the fireworks display down in Seminole County, my GPS took me to an empty church parking lot - "Just shut up & pray for fireworks, buoy. That's how we see light in the sky down here in Molesterville".

I don't know what sort of divine intervention happened next, but my flight to come home was scheduled for the evening of July 4th, and when I tell you that plane came down from over the clouds precisely at 9:00 P.M., I mean just in time for me to see fireworks displays ALL over Connecticut, Rhode Island, and Boston from all the little backyard displays to all the the big shot shows on the water all at once, all from an airplane.

And if that wasn't enough of a dream come true, the Boston Harbor display was in full swing when I landed at Logan.

Actual shot from the airplane window touching down on the runway.

I can check that off from my list now! Fireworks across 3 states from an airplane.


Since I've spent so much time screwing around here, let's get on to This Week In Twitter
(Or last week, or maybe even two weeks ago. I've been a slacker)

Because it's all fun & games until somebody goes insane. Then it's REALLY FUN!!

You're not really gone, though, until you actually turn the photo in with a review.
Not like I actually did that.........
(Though, you should know me better because I totally did)

Your beaver bit my beaver & now there's gonna be words.

Maybe I've gotten too personal here.

Tell me the story of your life. Is that too personal for you?!

Blah, blah.

Ooohh....


JACKPOT!

A step up from my future brother-in-law who falls UP the stairs on a weekly basis.
(He's okay. Sort of. He never really was to begin with)

Right about now, I feel like one of those psychological test subjects in an auditorium full of medical scientists.

What if I told them my fruit turned to sandy clam shells in my hand & the escalator took you through the wall, but rather beat me into the wall because I had magnets in my shoulder, which totally must have manifested from this brilliant & hilarious post by The Snee.

I bet you those scientists would pay big bucks for a test subject who's consumed as much acid as me in the 90's. See, that's the 60's backwards. Think about it.



So, speaking of too much acid in the 90's...

A whole nother subject for its own special post, let's leave it at that, and "Shockin' the Cockin'"
(Speaking of which, I should tell my dear bro I have now seen a new shock plug that'll help him "Shockin' the Colon" too)

So........

Think of Wile E. Coyote, cept' with the bang (or rather, consecutive bangs) before the loud whistle as he plummets into the core of the earth.

Not everything can be perfect. My first car was a lawn mower.

So in concluding this post for today, some of the upcoming posts here should somewhat consist of; my vegetable jungle progress, my sister's bridal shower & preparation for her wedding, a hokey music festival in the slums, and so on...

Now I know this all seems quite lame, but c'mon, guys, it's me. 

(I don't know why I just felt like saying "Crazy Carl")

It's bound to be fucked up & entertaining.

So, I hope ya'll had a really great 4th & of course a happy Canada Day ;~}, and I leave you with our cheesy town fireworks display's grand finale captured in really poor quality. 

You're so welcome!