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.

A Fire Breathing Fetish of Sickly Proportions

Wow, it feels weird (but good) to be back here writing up a post!
I am recovering well & slowly moving back into the swing of things, and it's just been too damn long.

Maybe I'll share the second half of the horror story sometime in the near future, but I have been enjoying those times I don't have to focus so much on what the hell I went through back there, so...

Today I want to talk to you about weird fetishes which are of a non-sexual nature, and
A self- observation I haven't been able to deny all my life.

Wrong shit entirely!
I'm not sure what's she expected to do with those, but it's almost frightening to think about.
"Slap me with a waffle & call me Charlie Sheen."

I'm THAT sicko..... No, not the one above, but who doesn't enjoy waffles & storm troopers now?

(Just keep them miles away from my bedroom or my lady parts.)

• The one that eats jars of vinegar peppers (Pepperoncini) because I'm addicted to the burn.
• The one who eats their pizza STRAIGHT out of the oven because it just doesn't taste good enough if it doesn't leave a welt on the roof of my mouth.
• The one who eats that insane, spicy yellow mustard at Chinese restaurants (It's boss on chicken wings).
• The one who used to stand outside Taco Bell as a kid & have "fire sauce contests" with my friends. (Pussies. I remember them dancing in circles, panting with their eyes bulging out, nearly in tears.)
• And the one who can finish an entire one of those long, hot sausages from the Italian import store that even make grown men cry & choke to death from a single bite.

I don't suggest you ever try any of those at home, unless you're a straight up fire breathing dragon.

Or in this case, fire breathing corporate nerd.
Sometimes you gotta work with what you can.

Now, some people can handle this shit well. Some, on the other hand, not so well at all.

But then there are the sickos who seek out this sensation/experience.

No, dickhead, me.  Creepy fucking owl trying to steal my thunder.

I once bit into a slice of pizza so hot, not only did it leave a welt, but the skin on the roof of my mouth actually peeled off. =0. While speaking of creepy, the creepiest part about this was that I felt satisfied for days.

I had the battle wounds to prove it, as I still continued to burn my mouth in any way I could the rest of that week.

Is this a sign of lacking something emotionally, physically?

My guess is probably just a disturbed person being disturbed, though it would be cool if it had any kind of theory behind it.

No, I'm not going to go out & snort Wasabi like Steve-O, but it's a rush & a thrill for some people.

My mother & her father actually both suffer from the same insane fetish.

These folks also eat orange peels & the like, so maybe it's irrelevant.

Though, I still think my 2nd degree pizza burn was a first for the history books.

Deadly pizza, you hurt me so good. <3

If my bowl of soup isn't at nearly boiling point & doesn't burn with intense heat all the way down to the point of involuntary twitching, I simply have no interest in it.

I have yet to throw a bowl of soup at the wall, but I'll make sure to be wearing a wife beater with spaghetti stains on it when that day comes. I think that's kind of a requirement for throwing soup at the wall.

I once threw a plethora of cold cuts (and some chicken cutlets) behind the couch when I was a kid, but I also don't think that's quite relevant here.

My bologna's first name was destruction.

(Floppy food is funny).

"I gots me attire for my first date with a lady friend."

It's like that chick at the prom wearing the long & proper gown when you know quite well you need the slut standing outside in the mini skirt for any kind of real thrill.

She'll probably burn your ass, but she'll be worth it & you'll never forget her.

Esp. for the following weeks due to the effects of the burning, but that's what you get for messing around with crabs.

Spicy food is a dirty whore!

(Bologna is just wrong in every way.)

Just keep Habanero out of the family chili. Nobody else will appreciate it & think you're an asshole.

I'm like, no good at photoshopping.
Shit, I don't even have photo shop. I lied to you.
(I did put habanero in the family chili, though.)

Some people like being lied to. It's their fetish.

As much as it's against my morale, I'd lie to you if you wanted.

I just won't spank you with waffles. Wtf do you think this is? 

Nor do I think I'd pierce my tongue, as much as I love torturing my mouth.

You should really see the way I can throw back things like deadly, straight Whiskey & Tequila, though.

That's a good look for cousin Cletus.
Let's do this, people!!
We can play beer pong with Jim Bob's eyeballs after the explosion.

Irresistably appealing.

You've missed me (and my sanity), admit it.

Asshat Dork Disorder? (OMG, Candy Balls!)

Or in MY case, better known as Adult A.D.D.

(There are monkeys on monkey bars, playing inside my head like a jungle gym right. now.)

 My silly, hairy lil friends. They're so goddamn funny.......until they bite someones face off. Why always with the face?

Regardless, I was one of them too you know, transported from laboratory to laboratory as shrinks watched me throw building blocks & beach balls around the room, and you know what the last one told me?

"I think you are suffering from adult attention deficit disorder."

This is where the Price Is Right theme song starts going through my head.

Omg, Sherlock, I think you're onto something because the whole time we've been sitting here I've been racing  down the highway in some type of bat mobile to some Top Gun type shit, maybe even traveling another country, maybe wearing flying goggles again, in my mind, and by the way how much are they paying you because I don't think I'm the one suffering here.

Trying to explain ADD in detail while also being a victim of it is kind of like having a strobe light seizure & feeling compelled to hang yourself with your own tongue.

(That was a lil too gruesome, even for me, and pretty much downright disturbing.)

Or maybe it's like being pumped full of coffee till it explodes out your eyes & ears.

(It's probably not like either of those.)

Omg, people, holy random Fabio nose bleed on a roller coaster & an apple pie, where was I?

Yes.......... Moments I knew when it had finally escalated out of hand.

*Peering at the TV for hours*

"Aaaaahahaha! You're laughing. Did you see that?"

"What?"

*Continues to gaze deeply into the TV screen*

"What's going on?"

"Are you even paying attention?"

"OH.....Uhhhh........nno."

"WTF?!?"

Honestly, I think that's because your company just bored me & I was busy thinking about having fun & horsin' around & things that involve fire & adrenaline & shit. More than likely something involving monkeys (or bananas) as well. Or things very similar to both.

A.D.D - For the depressed, easily bored & distracted, both? You decide.

But you know when I feel particularly insecure of it at times lately?

I love to read other blogs, and it's extraordinarily rare that a blog ever bores me because I love & appreciate all the differences & different walks of life, but it's so hard for me to sit & read anything for too long.

 (God bless mobile devices. Makes it a lil better. It actually HELPS sometimes to have other things going on around me. Somehow, this actually helps me focus better on what I'm intending to.)

So it's irritating when I go to read, intend to catch up, get through an older yet still recent post, comment, intend to get through & comment on the next one as well & OHMYGODLETMEFINDTHATMACNCHEESERECIPE!

And the next thing I know I'm in the middle of a Velveeta stare down & it went from reading & laughing a great post to sailing the seas of cheese with kaleidoscope eyes, milking cows & traveling to cheese factories around the world, and "if you fed a cow a whole shit ton of Hershey's syrup, would it squirt chocolate milk?".

(Kaleidoscope Cheese Wheel was the name of my old imaginary garage band. Or rather, now I realize it should have been.)

How cool would it be if the cracker crumbs were lil shipwrecked boats?

And then when asked what happened to the eagerly awaited side dish explain how I had to save my friends.

"Sorry everybody, we're eating out tonight, but it would only be right to have a moment of silence for all those men lost at sea."

And everyone says "WTF?!"

And you plead insanity. Because you can now, and aside from pretty much being the truth, it saves you from being that flaky blond chick.

Meanwhile, that page I was last on before my mind (& feet) shot up like a rocket is still open in my browser as I'm more than likely shooting silly string around the yard in a colander helmet, or WHO KNOWS?! Sadly, I'm not trying to be funny. I've always been like this.

If I could control the ADD, you'd be the last ones I'd ever "flake out" on, so here's where I extend my apologies If I ever have.

The relentless bastard has me in it's grip. Maybe it's the impairment for those with a lust for adrenaline, or rather, the completely crazy. Either way, (until the right cure or medication, at least) I'm stuck with it.

Aww, it loves me.

(On a serious note: I realize this IS a disorder that's not so funny when it's truly affecting your life as it has mine. I just look at the lighter, humorous side of everything, that's my thing. So don't think I'm not understanding any of you out there who's lives have been affected by A.D.D.)

Now go fetch these keys!! You know you want to.

You Be Serious

I'll be Charlie.

Because sometimes I just find it hard to be # 1, esp. when answering a bunch of questions....

So I answered a bunch of questions with absolutely NO fucking substance, at ALL, validating this very statement.....

I Am
The Real McCoy

I Want 

A rainbow margarita that shot out of a unicorn's ass.

I Have 

No idea wtf #1 means.
(Strike that. I just found out. Yeah, I'm that.  Thank you, our lord Google. Thou shalt guide us into the apocalypse & explode into the sun. *Salutes* Look, I was never fucking good with that whole religion thing. But now I suddenly want some bread.)

I Wish

I had a room wall to wall with down pillows, blankets, & stuffed animals to have adult tea parties with.

(Mr. Lizard & I would laugh till the fn sun came up. Remind me to put a lizard in there.)

I Hate 

When I honk a clown in all the right spots & he doesn't call me in the morning.

I Fear 

An army of giant mechanical robots, or dinosaurs... Or worse; either one in suits & ties with very bad hair dos, like government officials.

I Hear 

Elvis. He talks to me a lot. I love that funny fuckin' bastard.

I Search 

The plains for my detachable penis.

I Wonder 

Why they call it Wonder bread.

I Regret  

Not having any regrets.

I Love 

Shaved genitals, classic rock, kink, & berries.

I ache

That they call muenster cheese muenster cheese. I think I may have tourette's, or something like it.

.

I Always 

Go from left to right. Though, sometimes I go down > up, and feel like such a rebel all day.

I Usually  

Masturbate at an angle.

I Am Not 

Taking out your fucking trash! Take it out yourself, asshole.

I Dance 

On Sprockets, every Saturday night, since they cancelled American Bandstand.

I Sing 

Just like Fiona Apple in my mind. But probably something like Bruce Springsteen in reality.

I Never 

Try to operate chainsaws in the dark. We should put a stop to this madness!

I Rarely 

Know how to answer this effing question.

I Cry  

Chocolate sprinkles, and shit strawberry fluff.

I Am Not Always 

Temperamental. They take me to the vet for shots.

I Lose 

My innocence every time I wake up.

I'm Confused 

On what Lady GaGa came from

I Need 

Valium,or Aderall. No one can figure it out yet.

I Should 

Be myself, no matter what anyone thinks, and omfg, finish the laundry!

I Dream
Of terrible things. TERRIBLE THINGGSS! *Strobes Barbara Streisand Visuals*

For those uneducated on spooky vision.

Take This Survey at Quizopolis.com

My Nose

Nose no boundaries........

And I looked scared shit. I was, that there would be a picture of me out there partying a "horrid version of a clockwork orange", so my girlfriend called it.

"It tickles a bit pahverted like, doesn't it?" In her English accent.

WTF does that MEAN?

I can't really piece together a phallic rubber nose, "perverted" & "tickles" unless you were at my bunghole whispering to spirits.