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Farmville — A Picture is 1000 Words… or a Couple… (Part 3)

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So, it goes like this . . .

TO GET THINGS STARTED AGAIN, we’ll back track a little or you can get the whole prior parts of the story by ******* CLICKING HERE *******

So in need of FA… (Farmville Anonymous).

“Hello… My name is Belle… (pause)… and, I play…”

“Go ahead honey, you can say it… you’re in a safe and accepting place…”

“Hello… My name is Belle… (pause)… and, I play…FARMVILLE!” WAaaaaah-waa-wahhhhh (me crying).

There is a rumble in the audience. People twisting in their chairs. FA is a tough crowd, man… they have all survived… FARMVILLE! WAaaaaah-waa-wahhhhh (me crying again — can you hear the addiction in that cry?).

Sad, huh?

Sad. Sad. Saaa-aaad.

“It’s okay, Belle. How many times did you go on ‘the game that shall not be named?’”

And, I mutter through my sobs… I turned on my computer… and I never… I never got off!” WAaaaaah-waa-wahhhhh (me crying still more).

My husband and my parents are sitting next to me for moral support… they are shaking their heads…

“We lost her. She’s our only daughter… And, she’s… well, you heard her… gone… to Farmville.”

My dad pulls out a hanky and blows his nose. My mom… suffers in silence. Slight whimpering, her only evidence that she hasn’t fainted… My husband twists his wedding band around his finger… questioning his 2-year old, “I do.”

The tragedy.

Belle…. Lost to Farmville…

So my life has now hit a new level…

I would like to say it hit a new low, but that may be aiming too high.

It wasn’t that long ago that I scoffed those that posted their Farmville Photos on Facebook.

Ha!

Ridiculous!

Like, whoooo would ever want to do that? Right?

Well…

Hmmm…

Maybe I was a little too judgmental.

Yes, my husband reminds me that a mere month ago, I giggled at the thought of people taking pictures of their cartoon farm.

So, in response to that, I am here to show you pictures of my farm keeping skills…

Enjoy!

Please note the sense of "order" here...

Here… You can appreciate the sense of order that I have here on the farm.

All my animals shoved to nicely into a row.

As you can see, I have the ultimate “brown-nosing” farming techniques DOWN.

Things are a'blooming!

Yes… things are a’blooming!

Life is grand now that I have invested in fencing, yes?

It is that I have two types of fencing here. I have regular white fencing, and I have my new “scary” fencing that is termed as dreadful, that I dropped $48,000 of precious Farmville coins on.

Somehow no one appreciates the beauty of my “goth” gatekeeping skills. My only concern is that I might not have bought enough of these overpriced limited edition funky fake cartoon fencing pieces at $1000 a clip.

Me, being an 18-year veteran of real estate commercial development (no lie), it is imperative that I get this set up just right.

Frankly… I have big plans, but in the beginning, if you would have checked my farm you might have noticed that even my cows have a house.

Five of them.

Yes, my cows had a house, but I was sleeping in the tool shed.

And, not even the big tool shed.

The little one.

That I got for free… from Farmville… because I was so damn fricking cheap to buy it myself.

Well…

I DID have plans, and I was working real hard… saving up my Farmville dough… hoarding my money so that I could make a cool million and invest the beautiful Villa mansion on level 34.

What can I say, baby? Real estate is in my blood.

….

Please, pity me at this moment.

I am now developing cartoon real estate.

So, like I said, I’m working hard on saving up my “experience” credits for the big digs.

Yep, holding out for the Villa.

Million-dollar price tag…

Until I noticed that level 34, the people at that level had about 80,000+ Experience credits compared to my 27,000 Experience credits at level 25. 

Well, I don’t need to be a brainiac (or maybe I do) to understand that to get to level 25, took an average of 1000 credits a level.

And, THAT was a pain in the ass.

Now, facing a difference of 53,000 experience credits to be made up in 9 levels — well, that makes my new average of needing to accomplish approximately 6000 experience credits PER LEVEL from now on.

Well… crap.

Uh… Holy crap.

Can you tell that I was a Math Minor in college?

Well, let just say that I easily can breakdown costs to benefits… and basically I would have about a billion “Farmville” coins before I would even be allowed to buy the freaking villa.

Yeah… like that’s gonna happen.

I’ve got a life, man!

I can’t sit here nursing a cartoon farm up the wa-wa!

I ‘ve got things to do…

People to see…

Places to go…

Oh, yeah…

And, crops to turn. Hold on… My blueberries are withering….

….

…. … .. .

Okay, I’m back.

The blueberries are fine. I am sure that you were concerned, so don’t be.

Well, like I was saying…

I can’t wait for dang villa and level 34!

I can’t sleep in the tool shed… the little tool shed until the end of time.

It’s time to spend some freaking Farmville cash!

So, yeah… I bought the Dreadful fencing pieces… And, the whitewash gates… and a house…

Here's where I sleep now...

And, a barn… and a silo… whatever that is.

Bridal arches. Maybe for my daughter’s wedding there… ;-)

I’ve got a bird house, and a lawnmower, three lakes, a harvesting machine, a tractor, and a seeder.

I have spent a whole bunch on money on arches and entries and mail boxes… and…

Oh, wait…

Look here… a little greeting…

There seems to be a greeting appearing...

Maybe a Hello… How thoughtful!

Uh... Oh my...

Uh… Oh My…

HELP ME NOW!

Oh Goodness… “HELP ME NOW!”

"Or the Cow is... ?"

“Or the Cow is… ?”

My heavens.

Hmmm…

This is worse than even I thought.

Worse than you even thought, I am sure…

Or the cow is…

What?

Or the cow is… toast?

Or the cow is… finished?

Or the cow is…

What?

Steak?

This is serious.

Now you all saw it, right?

That poor cow…

But, wait… another…

Farmville back to normal... Where did the message go?

Farmville back to normal… Where did the message go?

It’s as if it were never there… the plea… the hope… the warning…

Gone.

….

TO BE CONTINUED…!

Be well,

Belle

Writer's Digest Award Winner - S. Belle Karper  78th Annual Writer’s Digest Award WinnerBookmark and Share

S. Belle Karper, Author, Speaker www.BelleKarper.com
THE WIDOW WEARS BLACK - An Edgy Memoir from an Outspoken Survivor
Check out S. Belle Karper’s – Beauties and Beasts – Blog! Baby! Blog!
and Belle Karper Face Book & the popular Twitter-Belle - all on Website
Save it, Baby! Count me in! Add to Technorati Favorites
BelleKarper-AuthorSpeaker7.jpg picture by bellekarper

Farmville… Keep It Coming! (Part 2)

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So, it goes like this . . .

TO GET THINGS STARTED AGAIN, we’ll back track a little or you can get the whole prior part of the story by ******* CLICKING HERE *******

But… Then all my peeps and buds on Facebook started sending me all these gifty things for Farmville…

Who knew?

A Pig here.

A Goat.

Two people even sent me some elephants.

Elephants?

Yeah… like those belong on a farm.

Right.

Guess what they make?

Circus Peanuts.

They make circus peanuts.

Hmmm… I hate to break it to you… but those are awfully large “circus peanuts” that come out of a cute little elephant, if you know what I mean.

And… I wouldn’t recommend eating any of those so-called peanuts, okay?

Eeeeeeuuuw.

It’s just wrong.

Well… I had 82 (eighty-two) gifts sitting on my Home Page of Facebook.

Go figure.

82.

That’s quite a bit, right?

But… remember, I was NEVER going to play Farmville.

I have got no time.

Right.

My son nearly died when I told him that I had DELETED THEM ALL.

Yes, I deleted all 82 gifts.

I mean, what hell am I going to do with a pig that finds truffles, right?

I don’t even freaking like truffles.

Gag.

So, needless the say, “am-scray on the ig-pay.”

Until… my son showed me the Farmville light…

I never deleted any gifts again.

Yes, until my son “showed me the light” of Farmville.

I can here the angels sing like the old Star Trek theme song when I think of the word Farmville, now.

How even sadder is that?

Yeah… not good.

You better call the paramedics now.

But, you better make sure that they bring with them a pig that finds those stinking truffles that I can’t stomach (and now I found out that I don’t have to actually eat the truffles), a duck whose down feathers I can sell, or a horse with a “hair problem” or… I am not letting them through the front door.

Come bearing gifts, baby, or the deadbolt stays locked!

So… my dear son made me RE-announce to my FB friends that he was going to suck it up, and help his lame mother with the starting of her farm, and to please start sending gifts again.

Yeah… please forgive the old bag that she deleted all those fabulous gifts… she didn’t know the value of them then. Please forgive that she wasn’t a FV convert, and start sending us some goods so that we can get our farm thing started…

Please…

Little did I know that I was inviting my first “crack” addiction…

Yeah.

Stupid, I was… please send me stuff… and keep it coming… I need to fill my veins with the stuff.

It looked so innocent, right?

So “neighborly”…

And, in the gifts came.

I got so excited!

My son and I were actually able to communicate with the same glazed monitor-ial stare I used to only attibute to him when he played “Martian Rangers Kill Texas Hold-Em.”

I feel so proud.

So honored.

So in need of FA… (Farmville Anonymous).

“Hello… My name is Belle… (pause)… and, I play…”

“Go ahead honey, you can say it… you’re in a safe and accepting place…”

“Hello… My name is Belle… (pause)… and, I play…FARMVILLE!” WAaaaaah-waa-wahhhhh (me crying).

There is a rumble in the audience. People twisting in their chairs. FA is a tough crowd, man… they have all survived… FARMVILLE! WAaaaaah-waa-wahhhhh (me crying again — can you hear the addiction in that cry?).

Sad, huh?

Sad. Sad. Saaa-aaad.

“It’s okay, Belle. How many times did you go on ‘the game that shall not be named?'”

And, I mutter through my sobs… I turned on my computer… and I never… I never got off!” WAaaaaah-waa-wahhhhh (me crying still more).

My husband and my parents are sitting next to me for moral support… they are shaking their heads…

“We lost her. She’s our only daughter… And, she’s… well, you heard her… gone… to Farmville.”

My dad pulls out a hanky and blows his nose. My mom… suffers in silence. Slight whimpering, her only evidence that she hasn’t fainted… My husband twists his wedding band around his finger… questioning his 2-year old, “I do.”

The tragedy.

Belle…. Lost to Farmville…

….

TO BE CONTINUED…!                  

TO PROCEED TO THE NEXT PART OF THE STORY ******* CLICK HERE *******

Be well,

Belle

Writer's Digest Award Winner - S. Belle Karper  78th Annual Writer’s Digest Award WinnerBookmark and Share

S. Belle Karper, Author, Speaker www.BelleKarper.com
THE WIDOW WEARS BLACK - An Edgy Memoir from an Outspoken Survivor
Check out S. Belle Karper’s – Beauties and Beasts – Blog! Baby! Blog!
and Belle Karper Face Book & the popular Twitter-Belle - all on Website
Save it, Baby! Count me in! Add to Technorati Favorites
BelleKarper-AuthorSpeaker7.jpg picture by bellekarper

Farmville… It’s Time We Spoke Out! (Part 1)

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So, it goes like this . . .

Okay. First, we need to set a few ground rules here:

1.     I was never going to play Farmville.

I think that it is important to repeat that first assumption here, so I’m to give it a subheading, and going to call it 1A.

1.A. I was NEVER going to play Farmville.

I mean it.

Next…

2.    I don’t know how I’m supposed to deny anybody wanting to give me “Free gifts.”

That’s just rude.

My Momma raised me better than that.

Well… she did…

I mean, if somebody wants to give me a free gift, who am I to deny them the intrinsic beauty of this sharing of two souls when one bestows a gift to me, and then I to them…

Of course, I am simply going to lovingly accept it.

“Thank you, Dahhhling, for the fabulous Banana Tree. It does so come in handy when my husband is away…”    ;-)

Yes… I will love and adore… cherish, even… every gift.

Even if it’s a lowly apple, cherry or plum tree (lowly as in Farmville standards, of course).

No offense, Dahhhhlings!

By the by… neighbors and friends… keep those Olive and Pomegranate trees coming, ya hear!

Sorry, I had to put in a plug for which free gifts I prefer now.

How sad is that?

Well, so the Lord Almighty, and my Farmville neighbors all know that Belle (that’s me) is a loving and generous receiver of all gifts great and small, and likewise I am a loving and generous gifter.

Shut-up… I am, too.

Everyday, I make a list of the people that give me the Farmville gifts just to make sure that I reciprocate and don’t accidentally skip anybody.

I need a fricking virtual assistant to keep up with the stress of my Farmville.

Yeesh.

Next…

3.    I have never played an electronic game beyond “Guitar Hero.”

And for the record, I play a mean freaking guitar that has buttons on it, okay? 

Don’t try to convert me to the “real” guitar. 

Not going to happen. No way. No how.

I would never cut my acrylic nails, and besides I think those guys are just showing off. The guys playing with the wire stringy “old-fashioned” guitars. They might think that they are more talented than we…

The true heroes of the guitar… the guitars with color-associated buttons on them.

But, we know better… don’t we?

Yeah… guitars with wires on them are old news.

Get with the program, man!

Buttons are “in.”

Just give me a guitar with buttons on it any day… and a couple of double AA batteries, and a Wii that’s plugged in… and I play a mean three-fingered colored-coded guitar.

Oooh, Baby!

Yeah, I know it’s got more than three buttons on it… give me a break.

I can count.

It’s kind of like painting by numbers… but for the guitar… with three to five colors… of buttons.

But, I play on the EASY level — which means that I only play with three buttons… and that since I am a woman, it further means that I am entitled to believe that the EASY level means “Easy Listening.”

And, nothing else.

Got it?

Don’t try to correct me.

We’d all hate for you to get on the “bad list” today.

So, let’s just understand here… just so that we are all on the same page and everything… I play on the “Easy Listening” level with three fingers, three buttons, and three brain cells.

Oh, yeah… And, I only play three songs… But, I am damn good at those three songs.

Right.

I digress.

So, I am trying to apologize in advance that my field of play in the electronic alter-universe is limited, to say the least… and even with that analysis, I am being generous… even to myself.

Next…

4.     I’ve never liked any of those electronic games.

My son plays them with unbelievable expertise.

Not that I’m thrilled with that knowledge, mind you.  

I know this because if he had his druthers, he would be playing his Electronic Games every hour of every moment of every day.

Without pause. Without food. Without oxygen.

Heck, let’s face it — the whole world could be caving in and he would still be shooting out power blazers on a level 39 “Alien Cucumbers Battle Mario’s Speed Racer and Godzilla Fireballs.”

His mad pounding of the keys… well, I just don’t understand the hopping and jumping around and disappearing exploding fire-gonzos and stuff like that.

Big deal, right?

So what, that he hasn’t eaten… done his homework… or blinked his eyes in four hours…

Mere details.

He can’t be bothered.

So, no… I was never really good with the game thing.

But…

Then all my peeps and buds on Facebook started sending me all these gifty things for Farmville…

Who knew?

A Pig here.

A Goat.

Two people even sent me some elephants.

Elephants?

Yeah… like those belong on a farm.

Right.

Guess what they make?

Circus Peanuts.

They make circus peanuts.

Hmmm…

I hate to break it to you… but those are awfully large “circus peanuts” that come out of a cute little elephant, if you know what I mean.

And… I wouldn’t recommend eating any of those so-called peanuts, okay?

Eeeeeeuuuw.

It’s just wrong.

Well… I had 82 (eighty-two) gifts sitting on my Home Page of Facebook.

Go figure.

82.

That’s quite a bit, right?

But… remember, I was NEVER going to play Farmville.

I have got no time.

Right.

My son nearly died when I told him that I had DELETED THEM ALL.

Yes, I deleted all 82 gifts.

I mean, what hell am I going to do with a pig that finds truffles, right?

I don’t even freaking like truffles.

Gag.

So, needless the say, “am-scray on the ig-pay.”

Until… my son showed me the Farmville light…

I never deleted any gifts again.

Eeeeek!

TO BE CONTINUED!!!            

TO CONTINUE THE STORY ******* CLICK HERE *******

Be well,

Belle

Writer's Digest Award Winner - S. Belle Karper  78th Annual Writer’s Digest Award WinnerBookmark and Share

S. Belle Karper, Author, Speaker www.BelleKarper.com
THE WIDOW WEARS BLACK - An Edgy Memoir from an Outspoken Survivor
Check out S. Belle Karper’s – Beauties and Beasts – Blog! Baby! Blog!
and Belle Karper Face Book & the popular Twitter-Belle - all on Website
Save it, Baby! Count me in! Add to Technorati Favorites
BelleKarper-AuthorSpeaker7.jpg picture by bellekarper

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