NYE: WACKY WORD PLAY:WIN $50!!

G'mornin'. How'ya feelin'? The cawfee is fresh an hot enough to matter, so sip it first.
I'se heade over to EGGY'S Brunch...please come along too, everyone wants to see ya!

The word games remain open until noon EST today. I'll post the winners tonight 9pm EST.
Haven't left an entry for the wordplay? Jes' scroll down this post an see if yore brain will fire up--love to have yore entry afore the game closes. (there may be honorable mention for late entries, but $ to timely submissions)

Well, I gotta git over to Eggy's so I can git back an tend to the New Year's Day black-eyed peas.

OH, yeah, mah GARLAND?? grrr! It's posted at Ether Capacious--click here.

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* * * * * * * * * * * * * H A P P Y * N E W * Y E A R * Y' A L L ! * * * * * * * * *




* * * UPDATE * * * *new here? Click party icon on right * * *


The next wordplay game ( winner takes $50! ) is

Fill -In-the-Blanks.

The funniest entry wins--an' be sure to check back an' cast yore vote on this one--Aunty will take yore votes as the decidin' factor on this game. So grab yore next wet refreshment an sharpen yore pencil. Answer in the combox, numbered 1 thru 5. You may enter as many times as ya wish. Ready?


1. A New Year's Eve Party _____________________________ .


2. The ______________ of my ___________ is _____________.



3. Forget____________, give me ________________________ .



4. I predict_____________________________________in 2011.



5. My New Year's resolution____________because____________ .


(the other word games is still open--no winner decided yet;scroll down the post iffin' ya want to add a new entry. $50 goes to winner of EACH game as a donation to the food bank or homeless shelter in the winner's hometown, or, a donation will be made to a scholarship fund for children or spouses of disabled veterans in the winner's state.)


XOXO fer now Sweet Thangs, I has a late date but may look in at Boxer's in the wee hours of EST--see y'all thar'!


* * * * * * * earlier today * * * * * * * * * *

BOXER'S BLOGGERIFFIC NYE PARTY!!
(click icon on right fer party info)




WACKY WORD an' BLOGGER DOSSIER CONTEST fer scrambled brains




Update:

hey all y'all! WELCOME to the Front Porch whar' some of the FUN an GAMES of BOXER's party "rooms" takes place. Doan be shy, jes' plunge right in! On the Porch ya can win $50 fer yore own local food bank (or two other local charities in the winner's hometown--see post below)

Fer now, thar's two word-oriented contests runnin' ( more to come in the hours ahead). The newest competition is to write the best Limerick.


Jes' to refresh any (no!) drink fogged brains, Limericks are five line poems meant to be funny or ironic, the rhyme scheme is AABBA. The A lines are 7-9 syllables, the B lines 5-7 syllables. Like so:

The limerick is furtive and mean

You must keep her in close quarantine

Or she sneaks to the slums

And promptly becomes

Disorderly, drunk and obscene.

It's fun an clever to make up words to fit the limerick, thus:

There once was a sculptor named Phideous

Whose sculptures by most were thought hideous

He carved Aphrodite

Without even a nightie

Which shocked all the fussy fastidious

I totally cribbed these samples : )

Extra points to the limericks that use any fellow blogger's name.

Of course, the INVENT a WORD contest continues jes' under these masked marauders.


Words ain't yore thang? Click the fashion video links at the end of the post...ooooh ooooh oooh.

Next up? Hilarious Fill in the Blank word play (6pm, EST)

Hey y'all!! WELCOME ever'body!!

Iffin' ya arrived here from Boxer's FAB-u-lous NYE party, an never been to the Front Porch afore now, double welcome!! ( hope y'all fergive the Cracker -speak)

I reckon Boxer-Babe fixed ya' up at her libation station (the Vodka Fountain is up an runnin' now?) so quick! --while ya still have wits, see can ya' win a prize donation to a charity in yore town (detailed in post below, "Let the games Begin")

First up, try yore hand at Word Invention.


WORD INVENTION RULES

Option I: Combine the names of any two or more movie/sports/chef/design stars an' give the definition of the new word.

Example: J-Lohan: a cushioned landing when ya' gits so zonked that ya' fall on yore fanny.


Option II: Invent a word that describes familiar situation for which no specific term exists.

Examples:

Someone who insists on rearranging the way you load the dishwasher suffers from
obsessive compulsive dishorder... a dishtraction .

The ubiquitous item seen everywhere until you decide to buy it, then it cannot be found:

Neverywhere… unbiquitous…fewbiquitous.

(Uncle's entry is, When a situation cannot be justified
an' things need to be equaled out, thas' a situation that ya need to "equify." Legal term; Equification)


Option III: Invent a word from the name of a famous person and use it in a sentence.

Examples:

Boycott is from poor ole Mr.Charlie Boycott, a hated landlord in Ireland, whose tenants an' vendors refused to have social congress wif' him--thus to refuse acknowledgment or patronage is to Boycott.

"Unbiden" a verb that means to swear or misspeak during tense moments; "The organizers feared their candidate would unbiden at townhall meetings" (Joe Biden)

Have fun--come back to see what entries others left in the combox.

New Game will be posted noon (EST) Dec 31st.

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Ladies only: As fer what I'se wearin' fer this segment of the party? Why that simple silver Dennis Basso gown that could jes' as easily be a nightgown-- @46, cause I'se too ole now fer those dear li'l sashay dresses.

But, ya know what'd be real funny? Wait til folks is under the influence then come out in something Galliano an' shake people to their socks--what is with all them headdresses??

Let the Games Begin!

The Blogger New Year's Bash Begins!

C'mon in, Y'all!

Jes' a few hours( 12 a.m.EST) from now all y'all is invited to the Blogger New Year's Eve celebration. It all begins at Boxer's, where every comment left is a 50 cent donation to charity. From Boxer's blog, guests fan out all up an down the Blogger Block party, visiting other's blogs an' enjoyin' the hilarity.

Youse gonna find virtual food an' drink, fashion, lots of silly games, mebbe even romance. Make the rounds--make new blogger pals!

Heah at the Front Porch part of the fun an' games is games to stretch your word wizardry an' games of blogger intrigue. Prizes go to the funniest or the most accurate entries (see prize awards below) Entries wif' puns git extry points.

Some SAMPLE teasers:

FILL IN THE BLANKS

"I always wear________________ on New Year's Eve."

"The song I associate with Midnight on New Year's Eve is_____________"



LIMERICKS


A limerick is a five line poem with the rhyming scheme of AABBA

Limericks are funny or ironic. They can feature hyperbole, onomatopoeia, and puns. The final line should be the surprise thought or punchline. Even Shakespeare had fun with limericks.

There was an Old Man with a beard,
Who said, 'It is just as I feared!
Two Owls and a Hen,
Four Larks and a Wren,
Have all built their nests in my beard!

The rhythm is 7-10 syllables in the A lines (1,2,5th lines) an' 5-7 syllables in the B lines (3, 4th lines)


(yes, ya' can write yore limerick(s) now while ya's still sober--then submit when the party is officially ready to open the doors!)


INVENT -A-WORD

Invent a word for them thangs that ya see everywhar'--they's ubiquitous when you aren’t looking for them-- BUT,when ya need them, ya cain't find nary a one!

Example answers: Neverywhere… unbiquitous… ubiquitless… fewbiquitous… omniabsent… omnevanescent… ameniteases… elusiversal…


WHAT I KNOW ABOUT OTHER BLOGGERS

Who is SHE? 1) Blazing Scarlet 2) Heff 3) Chickory

These is a jes'a sample of the games to come--sharpen yore wits, Sweet Thangs.


Prizes awarded in each category to the winners will be $50 donations made in their names to one of the three following charities:

1.) The local food bank in the winner's home town
2.) Scholarship fund for children/spouses of disabled veterans
3) Local Homeless Shelter (winner's home town)


All the above is samples--I'll be back tonight wif the first real contest.

Like Yores Large or Small?

Whether ya likes yore New Year's Eve in a crowd or an intimate tete for two, the Blogger New Year's Eve Gala is on!! (see post below for info)

Be There!!

PARTY TIME !!

Hey y'all!!

Iffin' y'ain't heard it yet, thar's a New Year's Eve (an' beyond) blogger party gatherin' speed at Boxer-Babe's in the Pacific Northwest--an thanks to digitizin', we can all be thar too!! Come an join the fun--jes' send yore RSVP to Boxer here: PARTY RSVP whar she lays out rules of fun an games! ALL is welcome.

Prizes! Games! Spoofs! Food an' Drink! Fashion (worn sparsely)! (Doan worry, Sweet Thangs, wear yore best--so far they ain't no reports of anybody's ensemble ruint by digitized cigarette burns or spilled red wine--finally some one--BOXER--invented NYE party that ain't a
slushy bore)

Think of it like a blogger block party, whar' ya' roam from home to home to see whas' up at each Add yore own fun blogger activity an join the riotous fun!!

Heah on the Porch thar will be PRIZES for the winners of word wizards/ hilarious fill in the blank games / an' an "remember when" contests to see what ya REALLY know about a fellow blogger (heh!).

Pssst! Tell me about the WORST New Year's party ya ever endured--an now, relax, cause this party will charm ya'.

Y'all come now--the more the merrier!

Baby King

New Post on Ether Capacious

Do You Believe?

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Back when we'uns were nuthin' but a litter, my li'l brother suffered a serious life setback.



A neighbor boy wif' the temper of a he-coon done dealt baby brother a double blow: Thar' ain't no Stork, an' thar' ain't no Santa.

Which, come to think, is 'bout the same thang.

Natcherly this conversation occurred a few weeks a'fore Christmas. An' jes' as natcherly it put Granny in a spin to find some means of keepin' a little twinkly magic in baby brother's Christmas.

Brother chile' wuz unfazed by the first revelation, declarin' wif' eight-year ole authority, "Eeewww! GROSS! Gross, gross gross! Mah Daddy would never do a thang like that!"

But the second revelation carried a penalty: Iffin' a fella persisted in believin' in Santa Clause, he' got hisself labeled a sissy, a baby. It made thangs difficult in the sandlot.

So... kid Brother manfully maintained that "Santa is for babies. I doan believe it no more." An we'uns noticed how the happy spark of childhood seemed dim after this revelation took aholt of him.

Granny Cracker believed. She believed in Christmas as a time for miracles, some known only to the heart. Her own grief over li'l brother's dilemma like to have ruint her own Christmas spirit. Pappy Cracker, on t'other hand, thought he had a remedy.

In them days we lived in a big ole house near downtown Hog Town Creek. This house were built in the 1800s so it had high ceilings and spacious rooms. Ever year Granny insisted on a tree that touched the ceiling, but the onliest room that could take such a large tree wuz the foyer, cause it had the least stuff to move out to make room for these massive fir trees. That year the tree wuz the finest one yet. Its lights threw dancin' sparkles over the presents beneath it boughs.

Despite an unbeliever in our midst, the rest of us young'uns wuz mighty excited. Visions of sugarplums abounded. Christmas Eve arrived in a flurry of last minute baking, secret elf errands, and visits with friends who stopped in for a cup o' cheer. Mistletoe hung from the chandelier, the halls were decked, the fragrance of cinnamon and pine wafted through the rooms, an we chillen's were jumpin' wif' excitement: Santa Claus is a' comin' tonight!



Li'l brother wanted to believe. But the he-coon neighbor boy done put him on point, "Yore Daddy an' Mama is foolin' ya. They act like they believe so's youse tricked into thinkin' a fat man is comin' down yore chimney wif' a sack of toys."

Ya could see the anguish on Li'l Brother's face : Iffin' thar' ain't no Santa why's all these others so happy?

Granny, seein' the boy was torn up over this thang, tried to soothe his anxiety, "Sugar Pie, it ain't too late. Write Santy a letter an' we'll put in right on the tree-right on the front of the tree. Mayhap somethin' ya want will still be in his pack of toys."

Poor Li'l Brother, he jes' hunkered down into his disbelief.

We had a Cuzin crash through the door late Christmas Eve, his arms laden wif' bow topped boxes. "Cain't stay, y'all, jes' makin' mah rounds." But he spied the glum disbeliever sittin' off to the side of the sofa in the livin' room fiddlin' wif' a Rubic's Cube, unsolved since it appeared in his stockin' last year.

"Say! Looky heah, this is day for laughin' but youse wearin' a long face, " Cuzin boomed. "Whas' on yore mind, Sonny?"

"Cousin Nick, how come grown ups lie to chillen? Thar' ain't no Santa," Li'l Brother mumbled, his misery sittin' heavy. " I cain't believe in that foolishness no more. What if thar ain't no Santy, but I let mahself be fooled?"


Eying the chile's rigid resolve, Cuzin Nick slid the Rubic's Cube off the boy's lap an started a twistin'.

"Oh, I know that feelin'. Shure now. Lot's a folks go that-a-way. Them's the same folks that believe they seen the haint of Aunt Lizzy in the garden, an' they visit the palm reader over on Jefferson Street. They read their horryscopes an' fear black cats." Cuzin Nick twisted the Cube, click-clack, thwak-wack.

"Well, every fella has to decide this matter hisself. Come to it, it's what ya' is in yore ownself, I reckon. Is ya' gonna believe in Love? In Honor? In Goodness? Iffn' ya cain't believe in love cause it may go astray on ya', then ya cain't be a lover of folks. If ya cain't believe a man can be honorable jes' fer the sake of honor, how's ya gonna be honorable yoreself?

"Worst of all, when folks doan believe in goodness, then goodness, findin' no room fer itself, leaves yore heart. After that, a body only does what they please, wif' nary a thought for the needs of others. See? Goodness, an Love an' Honor cain't make a home whar' thar' ain't no belief."

At the door Pappy Cracker an' Cuzin Nick winked, then Cuzin tossed the Cube back to Lil' Brother. The chile stared down at the puzzle.

It were a warm Christmas an thar' warn't no need to snuggle in our beds. But SugarPlum dreams came right on schedule.

Christmas Day that year were a bright shinny Floridy day. In the large foyer stood bicycles for two chillen, a doll house wif' two stories, a red radio, a Raggedy Ann, some fancy clothes, an assorted surprises.

But, missin' wuz any boy toys. None a'tall.

Amid the whoopin' of his sisters delight, Li'l Brother stood stunned. He looked around in shocked silence. His stocking hung slack next to three stockings overflowing with goodies. Tears slid down his cheeks.

Poor Granny Cracker nearly fainted wif' worry. Pappy Cracker hugged the boy, "Now Son, ya ain't really surprised is ya?"

A wail pierced the house. Sorrow an grief rained down on that happy, gift strewn foyer.

"I believe! I BELIEVE! I believe! I din't know that iffin' I din't believe in Santa that he wouldn't believe in me."

Pappy held that boy fer a minute an' said, "Oh I reckon Santa believes in you, alright. But mebbe he jes' din't want to upset ya none wif' his presents, seein' as how ya' wuz real shure he doan exist."

The Boy sobbed against Pappy's shirt, "I do believe, now. I do."

Pappy loosed the Boy from his arms, tilted up his tear-ravaged face an' said, " Well, now...go sit in the livin' room until time to open our gifts, an let yore sisters enjoy their time under the tree." He done give the Chile a gentle push toward the big room to the side of the foyer. Once again Li'l Brother entered the side room, an' took his dejection to the corner of the sofa. Pappy winked at Granny.

"Oh!! Look look look look looky!!"

We ran into the livin' room to see what all the hollerin' wuz about. Thar wuz a bow wif' a quiver of suction tipped arrows, a BB gun, a pair of boots an' a fine cowboy hat. In the center of the floor wall set up was a multi storied filling station wif' cars up on ramps. The whole back corner of the livin' room were a veritable toy store of boy toys. An' hung over a chair back lay a fat, red striped stockin' overstuffed wif' every trinket an' candy delight a heart could want.

Christmas night we chillen's sank into our beds, an' a pleasant, happy stupor fell over the house. But iffin' any of y'all could peeked in Li'l Brother's room that night, y'all woulda seen all them Santa gifts lined up like soldiers at the foot of his bed. An' on the bedside table under the night light were that Rubic's Cube, its sides all perfect squares of primary colors.

Ho Ho HO!!

Finshing deckin' the halls, bakin' the cookies, wrappin' the gifts an playin' elf...
Hope y'all is enjoyin' some merry makin'---would love to know yore favorite must have item/ symbol that means Christmas in yore house, favorite Christmas music, what one food is indispensable during the season...t'other words, Christmas ain't the same unless______ (fill in the blank)

an' I'll be back Wednesday wif'a Christmas Story.

Just Toying With You

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When you were 8 years ole, what did'ja want Santa to put under yore tree?

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MCW: Most Overrated Movie

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*Note: Still taking votes on mah move to France here



Our faithful stand-in, Milk River Madman, continues to host a fun meme, Movie Clip Wednesday. Go visit his place to see what other bloggers nominated for this week's theme.


Move Clip Wednesday's theme this week is The Most Overrated Movie.

Finally, a really really easy one came to mind before I even finished readin' the theme.

200 million dollars worth of Schmaltz on 'roids. Yicky sticky sentimentality. That wuz production costs alone--enough wuz spent on promotion to rebuild Atlantis, hence the overrated medallion. And yet, the thang won 11 Academy Awards. Grossed mor'n a billion (wif' a B) bucks.

Maybe the real drama wuz the engineer-trained producer /director who screeched at everyone so shockingly during the filming, that a disgruntled crew member laced his and other's soup wif' PCP. Folks took a bounce through the emergency room before returnin' to production.

Too bad, too, since the basic premise would have made a killer movie. How does some Hollywoodenhead think that throwin' two genre's together (disaster/ romance) an' stirrin' wif PC class warfare baton equals a great movie? Oh thas' right, it starred two of the beautiful young people that folks love to love. I does give this flick two thumbs UP fer special effects--really amazin' digital wizardry, set buildin' innovation an' the best ever crack-up on film ... an' the music is not bad. But, y'all, it is still overrated.


A prominent film critic left the screening an' wrote, "a hackneyed, completely derivative copy of old Hollywood romances." Filmmaker Robert Altman dubbed this movie, "the most dreadful piece of work I've ever seen in my entire life."


Of course, when the movie broke Box Office records, the oooh and ahhhing began--if the public is willing to fork out a billion to see it, why try to swim against the tide, right? Even if "the public" wuz every teen-aged girl on the planet an' not a few wistful "it coulda been me" sappy teen boys in their 50s.

Once disclaimer: iffin' I stepped on yore treasured favorite movie, I apologize in advance. I 'spect many of y'all will object to mah nomination...but it will at least make a good yak-fest.



Most Overrated Movie

Through the Roof

Lookin' fer Haiku? It's at Ether Capacious




















One or two tomatoes survived our record cold temps last week. Reckon they might go to 'mater heaven after this comin' week's north wind howl. We ain't really bracin' fer it much. The orchids that still survive will come in, thas' about it.

Wait. No no...I will cover the kumkquat, ain't she purty?


Thang is, we's got so much goin' on that coddlin' plants cain't git on the schedule.

Uncle built us this house when he were little mor'n a boy chile'. Now we's old an' the house is too. Uncle done got a bee under his coon huntin' hat.

"Belle, this ole' place needs some shorin' up."

First it wuz a new roof. I left the country.

Now it is through the roof--I mean the massive live oak that pokes its trunk-size branch through the two story porch roof--needed heap o' re-workin' on account of the tree's growth.



Doan'cha know how often the neighbors stop to warn us that "iffin' that tree comes down yore house is goin' wif' it?" But we ain't the onliest ones--thar's several other folks nearby wif' trees in they houses, cause' this area simply has spectacular ole' oaks. Who could chop them beauties down?



An' the floor boards? Well some needed replacin', as did the steps, an' fer the halt and the lame who now frequent the back porch, we's added a railing--








all waitin' fer the primer to cure so we can git the whole shebang painted--mercy willin', afore Christmas. See...THIS time Uncle outfoxed me.

He done waited until time fer Santy Claus to come so he knowed I couldn't hightail it to remote city an' wait out the noise and workman at dark-thirty.



Sigh.. now the scramble is on--workin' around all this puts a crimp in my festive mood. I is please we's gettin' fixed up some, but why did it have to be NOW?

An here comes the cold...

The lovely hibiscus will take a hit, but it's against a brick wall it will jes' need prunin' come March to remove the cold-hit branches.




















Ok, now I'se ranted enough. Mayhap it is outa mah system. Uncle jes' hollered in on his talkie, from the gate of the huntin' camp, "Belle, I'se comin' home wif' a sleigh full of holly, an pine boughs, an pine cones. Doan worry yore haid none, youse gonna have all the greenery ya' need fer deckin' the halls."

Can I ask y'all, does that sleigh of goodies make up fer schedulin' all this bedlam in the middle of the Christmas season? Jes' wonderin'.

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A house-wise rant of another species here

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Haiku + Naughty or Nice?

Blogger ain't behavin'. Cain't edit from my page cause it wants me to sign in, but I is signed in...

That means I cain't fix the right hand option "Comment page" an' if ya click that option it takes ya to the Wikileaks post, not this post's comments. ( to comment heah, jes' scroll down as ususal to the comment link)

Worse, I cain't comment at TROLL'S !! The comment sign-in can't "see" me cause Blogger thinks I ain't signed in....grrrr!! (see mah Haiku entry below)

Sorry -please, if any of y'all can hep me figger out the trouble, I'd be mighty grateful.



Troll's Haiku Thursday entry:


Java, Java, Joe
unapologetic fiend
blood caffeine limit


The mystery drink on Troll's Beverage Haiku is Brandy Alexander (as Pam already guessed!)

Uncharacteristically cold heah.

Working Breakfast. (I'se at warp speed)

Hope y'all is out thar merry makin'. Please tell me: Who is on your Naughty or Nice list?

That should be entertainin'!

Pearl Harbor

Ain't no words need be said here, other than we all need to thank the men an' wimmen who made it possible fer us to lead the lives of relative peace an' safety we take fer granted each day.


Could we all do something today that commemorates/ preserves our freedom? Write a letter, pray for our military, donate to the Veteran's groups, visit a Vet in a VA hospital, thank a soldier, teach a youngster about freedom as worth fighting for...somethin'.

Iffin' ya' ain't yet read the BACK PORCH post, I'd be obliged iffin' ya went thar fer a short visit of remembrance.

Gone fishin'

See y'all next week,
reckon ya' can hold the fort a few days?

Lemme know how yore weekend goes.