Down with Goofball Daydreams

Yet another submission from our previuos held writing contest....  Being a goofball and having fun is the key component of Monkey Pickles..  If you take yourself to seriuos and need to lighten up then being a goofball is all the doctor order..

Daydreamers

You daydreamers make me sick! When I was young, we didn’t have daydreaming. We had the Great Depression! We never daydreamed. No, we got tossed out of bed (if you were lucky enough to have a bed) before dawn and we worked for 24hours straight. Yeah, that’s right, there was no sleeping! Now I remember! We never slept and we never daydreamed, either.


What are you daydreaming about, anyway? Being a rockstar? We didn’t have rockstars! We had polka! No screaming guitars! No pounding drums! Just accordions! Nothing but accordions and tubas. Just oompah, oompah, doopity doo! No one gets to be a star playing that music! Just listening to it made us want to scratch our ears off and go back to work! We didn’t waste time daydreaming about wearing tight leather pants and stadiums full of thousands of screaming fans. The only screaming fans we had were the old clunkers that hung from the ceiling at the factory! They weren’t there to cool us off, they were there to push the heat back down. No one wants to rock and roll when they are hot and sweaty and tired.

I suppose you daydream about having a girlfriend or a boyfriend, don’t ya?! We never had boyfriends and girlfriends! All the boys and girls were working in the dirty, sweaty, smelly factories with each other all day. 24 hours, I tell ya! Yeah, everybody smelled like a goat! We didn’t take showers 3 times a day like you knuckleheads! No, on Sunday we filled any old barrel we could find with any water we could find and the whole family took a bath in the same water, one at a time! Dad went first, so the water was about as clear as sludge for everyone else, anyway. I came out as dirty and smelly as I went in, and so did all the other kids.

When it was time to get married, your parents told you who your new wife or husband was going to be. It was the same ugly, smelly person you worked with all day, anyway… except they just had a bath. And the only way you could tell that, was their hair was still wet and combed. We didn’t daydream about getting married! What kind of nincompoops do you think we were?

Who has time to daydream, anyway! Kids these days are always doing that there, um, thing… what’s that they call it? Texting! They never stop long enough to daydream. They’re always staring at their phones, typing away with their thumbs. My thumbs are the size of MONKEY PICKLES! I can’t feel anything through the calluses on my thumbs! How am I supposed to type on tiny little buttons? And when these kids are not texting on their phones, they’re talking on them. I can’t hear anything on a tiny little phone! Why don’t they make phones like we had when we were young? When I was young, you spoke into a big funnel and you held another one up to your ear. They were the size of lampshades, but you could hear everything! And there was no dialing, either. We just cranked the handle and told the operator who we wanted to talk to. Everything was speed dial.



Don’t tell me you’re daydreaming about being a princess in a castle. Oh, for crying out loud! Castles are big and cold and made out of rocks. They’re drafty. Being a princess in a castle means shivering around a smoky fireplace in blankets and a shawl. You’ll also want to eat like a horse and pack on 100lbs of fat to stay warm. All of that is going to ruin your complexion, which will be pale and oily anyway. Lovely. That’s why the fairy tale is always about dressing up in a fancy flowing gown and going to the ball hoping to meet some naïve prince to take you away. It’s called marketing. It’s also false-advertising, but the story ends when he takes her away. It’s not about what happens when they get home. But don’t let Prince Charming fool you either: he rented that tuxedo. He’s a poser. That’s why they say, “All’s fair in love and war.” All those tricks were already old even when I was a kid. Then, I got sent to work. 24hrs a day!

You daydreamers! You and your sitting there, staring off into Anywhereland with a big grin on your face. Who do you think you are? Don’t you know there’s no smiling in the real world? No! Life is hard work and then you die. That’s it! Life sucks.

You’ll never catch someone like me daydreaming. Now, why would you want to do a thing like that?


MONKEY PICKLES FAN

http://eastsoutheastofnormal.blogspot.com/




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How to be a Kid 101

Being a goofball is all about being able to stay young mentally and always be in the mood for a laugh. Keep yourself Easily Distracted and avoid using phrases like I'm Bored, so bored, my life is boring, and bored. Man think of something !! You will never cure that by sitting there and saying to yourself over and over you'll only confirm it. Try something you wouldn'[t normally do to kick yourself out of it. Most of the time if your saying your bored you've probably been alone for an extended period of time.. because when was the last time you saw a group of 20 people sitting around looking at each other saying.. "man were bored". So get up go for a walk, grab a coloring book, call a few friends, get in your car and drive somewhere, read a book, go enjoy a large flavored coffee, or duct tape something.. Or your last resort would be to write "I'm bored need suggestions" on our Facebook Fan Page or send us a Tweet and you will have plenty of creative ideas.

Thanks to Heather Lavalle for this submission during our writing contest. Another quality Monkey Pickles Fan.


How to be a Kid 101


Before having children I handled stress in very adult, sometimes boring and unhealthy ways like smoking cigarettes, watching TV and shopping. After having children I have discovered new ways to spend my free time and stay happy. Even if you don’t have children (even if you don’t like children) you can adopt these activities into your daily life to create a more fulfilling existence.

Blow Bubbles: For the cost of a pack of gum you can buy a small bottle of bubbles and blow your worries away. If you want to go all out, my favorite bubbles are California Baby’s Over Tired and Cranky Bubble bath. It comes with a bubble wand and smells wonderful (rubber ducky optional).

Color: There is nothing like cracking open a fresh pack of new crayons. Free coloring sheets are all over the web like this one: Educational Coloring Sheets

Make play dough: Sure you can buy it but if you make it you can add lavender or other essential oils and make it any color you want. Here is an easy recipe: http://www.peapods.com/browse.cfm/4,400.html

Jump rope: My favorite jump rope is made by Habba. The comfortable wooden handles are shaped like carrots and the rope is made from hemp. I get a much better workout with this one then the plastic one I bought (and returned) from Target’s fitness section.

Decorate your driveway or sidewalk: What better way to welcome friends than with a beautiful picture created with sidewalk chalk? Eat your heart out Martha Stewart!

Run through the sprinkler on a hot day: I know what you are thinking “if my neighbors and friends see me running through my sprinkler they’ll think I am crazy, especially after seeing me blow bubbles, make play dough sculptures, jump rope, and draw on my driveway”. Well really people are too busy with their own lives to care about what you are doing. So relax and do what kids do because they are not concerned about what others think, they just want to have fun.

-Heather LaValle lives and writes in Grant MN with her husband, 3 children, 55 chickens and 1 cat that thinks he’s a dog.




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Video of the Week

Alright goofballs we can all take a little piece of advice from this video.. Chill out handle your things and enjoy the day. Next time you go out take a monkey with you.







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The Dog Named Sparkles...

This is another wonderful submission from another person being a goofball at Monkey Pickles.

My fingers froze above the keyboard and stayed that way. I tried to push them down but they wouldn’t budge. It was late morning. I had 2 pages written and needed 8 more, but writer’s block had swept in with a vengeance. My evil criminal mastermind stood waiting for me to inject some shred of humanity into his unfailingly dark past. The hero was looking for a flaw or two, anything to make him a bit more interesting.
“Focus,” I shouted to no one but myself, “stay focused.”
Smokey, my 90-pound shepherd/mastiff mix whimpered and covered his eyes with his paws.
I growled at my hands, at the computer, at everything. Writer’s block wasn’t going to get me, not this time. My characters waited. They eyed me suspiciously. They grimaced. They cackled. They called me names. Nothing helped. Still, I would not be distracted by this problem. No, I would not be distracted. I was going to conquer this problem through brute force.
A wet nose slopped against my left arm. Smokey looked up at me with those baby browns, leash dangling from his mouth. A large paw pushed against my thigh. He whimpered softly. His tail wagged twice.

“Go on,” my characters jeered, “you’re useless here. At least you can walk the dog.”

Smokey and I stepped out into the sunshine. Okay, I could stay focused on my story and get this job done at the same time. After three measured steps, he jerked me sideways. His nose just avoided a scraping as he ran this way and that, tail waving high and fast while he tracked some scent or other. I scolded the dog for getting distracted.
We took two more measured steps. He sniffed a bush, evidently enjoying whatever it told him about those who had gone before. Then he lifted a leg and left a message of his own. I sighed. What a bubble brain my dog was! Once that nose of his engaged, he didn’t know the meaning of discipline or focus.

Our heads turned at the sounds of scuffling feet and a ball smacking the ground nearby. The neighborhood kids yelled and waved and continued their basketball game. Smokey strained toward them. I pulled him back. His tail waved once before he turned back to our walk.
We continued together, a few steps ahead, then a tug to one side or the other. The criminal and the hero watched me being tossed in the ocean of my dog’s distractions. They grinned.

I forgot them and just enjoyed a cool breeze filled with the promise of spring. Birds, tiny ones from the sound of their calls, carried out a conversation nearby. Smokey continued his sniffing. We both jumped when the flock suddenly rose from the tree and flew away with all the appearance of a puffy dark cloud.

Back at my desk, my characters waited.

“You’re too serious;” I said, “you need a few distractions.”
My fingers danced across the keyboard. Within minutes they were far too busy to worry about their previous lives or character flaws. I laughed. I cried. I took care of all of that for them. Writer’s block was gone. The world was full of humor and surprise and possibilities.
Smokey’s fur tickled my arm. He leaned up against me angling for some petting. My characters relaxed and waited as we enjoyed another distraction.

Author: Judy Downing
Email: judy@judyandcharlie.com
Website: http://www.vapata.com/




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What is a Goofball ??

Well being a goofball and having fun no matter what your doing is a skill that anyone can develop.  Monkey Pickles would like to thank everyone that has particpated  in our writing contest over the past month.  Alot of people showed off their creative talent and we are truely appreicative that so many fans of Monkey Pickles enjoy the everday fun created by the community.  All submisisons will be showcased throughout the month of April.  We will take our stand as Goofballs United across the globe making people push the pause button on taking themselves so seriuos for 10 mins a day..

Here is our winner for the contest !!!!!! Congrats Nick Jackson Stand by for more contests and all of our goofball fans work over the next the month.

What is a goofball?...

It is hard to pin down isn't it? Partly because they rarely stay still. Prefering instead to distract you with shiny paper so as to pinch your hat, fill it with whipped cream, duct tape it to your head & tag you repeatedly with their BRWBB causing the cream to squirt out with that universially hilarious " pfffffft ". Also, some are made of balloons & will pop.

And it is as it should be that for this freeform well meaning spreader of fun & larks shouldn't be bound by uniform, health & safety or governmental 'prank request forms'. For the goofball is in all of us ... Not in a way that requires an adult or police intrvention but in a healthy way that allows us not to take ourselves too seriously & enables us to cope with the stresses of life.

Now some of you, such as Huntz & myself, may say, " That doesn't sound right. Surely you mean small, white, & stroked by a tiger? "
Well my friend, you are thinking of a golf ball ... or a fat clumsy child in some trouble at the zoo.

If you really want see a goofball, find a full length mirror.

Now, if the reflection has wacky clothes, oversized shoes, crazy hair & a spinning bow tie, then it is probably you my friend. If, however, you are then hit by a torent of water from the suspicious reflected button-holed flower, then a clown has escaped from the circus & removed the glass. ... You should probably run.

As you flee the changing room for your life , leaving the squeaky footsteps & panicing clothing store assistants behind you, realise that you can take many of those elements to help release your inner goofball ... except for the evil. That is just for clowns.

For those of you who see only their usual reflection, this does not mean that you are not a goofball. You might be a fancy big city executive but if your briefcase is occasionally full of springy snakes, you have the power. Or if you are in The Apprentice boardroom and Mr. T. ( hee hee wouldn't that be fine ) asks " So, goofy, why shouldn't I fire you? " & you answer " ... because I have this pie ... & I have to do something with it. ", or " I pity the fool who doesn't have a pie in his face. " or " No ... You're Pie - ed " then you have the potential a comedic giant.
You are going to get fired ... but with style & the aid of security.

It is not always about throwing the pie, of course. Particularly at Mr.T. ( either of them ). Goofballism ( don't argue with the science ) is not a malicious state of being. No harm is intended. The goal is to cheer & entertain, often at your own your own expense but you don't mind. You are too full of fun & positivity to contain it or to safely go out in a thunderstorm. Sure some people will say " You're weird " & if that person isn't a judge, it's okay because what they really mean is " You are a true individual. I envy you. " And, for all those who back away, the visionaries that befriend you do so with a bond of iron ( Not literally. Those would be handcuffs. ) & deep empathic understanding of your genius.

And so my children ( It's a metaphor - there's no allowance ), if that dangerous encouragement does not make you want rush home & change into that grey suit which is a slightly different shade to those of your colleagues, then maybe you should remain a politely applauding spectator.

But if you are already sculpting whipped cream around a balloon & icing HAPPY BIRTHDAY on the top, then The Farce is strong in you & ( with the exception of elderly relatives ) The World needs your power.

Thank you for your time .... It is mine now .... mhaw haw haw

N. Jackson , paperclip auditor.

( Any reference is anything in the real world is purely coincidental & if you think it is that thing, then it isn't it's the other one ... unless you are thinking of the other thing ... in which case it's the other other thing or a 3rd thing. )

( Also, in the event you act upon any of this .... then this was all a dream & you need to sue cheese & midnight ..... * shimmering dream effect



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Timmy and the Transforming Sharks

Well being a goofball and having fun no matter what your doing is a skill that anyone can develop.  Monkey Pickles would like to thank everyone that has particpated  in our writing contest over the past month.  Alot of people showed off their creative talent and we are truely appreicative that so many fans of Monkey Pickles enjoy the everday fun created by the community.  All submisisons will be showcased throughout the month of April.  We will take our stand as Goofballs United across the globe making people push the pause button on taking themselves so seriuos for 10 mins a day..

Here is our runner up submission !!!!!!  Winner will be posted at 4:00 pm central time.

Ryan McNames  "hint maybe click on his name and find out who this goofball fan of Monkey Pickles is made from"




Timmy and the Transforming Sharks

Stan the monkey's patented Flaming Hamburger flew out of a turquoise volcano upside down into the atmosphere of Jupiter to the three-fourteenths power last Wednesday.

"Excelsior!” bystanders exclaimed. “Where in the world did he ever learn to scrape the Bill Clinton like such an aware octopus!" after which they all dove into a 0.5 league-deep tank of said octopi, wherein they spoke mentally to each other with help, of course, from the encircling psychic dolphins. Unfortunately, the dolphins soon began to grin evilly, and, like little Timmy McGregorshinobi noticed, soon began to grow fangs. "HOLY MOONBEAMS FROM KRYPTON!" Timmy jabbered dutifully, as he flailed away from the foul shark-transformers, attempting to alert the surrounding townsfolk. Oddly, many of the hairless chimps kept chatting non-chalantly about such mundane topics as the weather, as they were one-by-one jerked violently underwater, each dispached body splashing and/or splishing uselessly in a spreading pool of the color purple. (red and blue make purple, of course). Once little Timmy McGregorshinobi had reached the edge of the tank, he snatched his scuba outfit and his samurai sword with vigor – the offending vertebrates were about to have some major ‘splaining to do. He dove bravely back into the tank, where he planned to dispatch all the shark transformers, especially the one who had sadly devoured the head of his beautiful girlfriend, Wendy Wallabeebromine.

Yes, Timmy slashed and stabbed his way with his amazing waterproof sword, all the way to the depths of the tank (which had been a supposed gift to the townsfolk by the Octo-people to the west), where he succeeded in gutting the one who had killed poor Wendy. He reached into the freshly spilled gore, pulled out her waterlogged, decapitated cranium, and flippered his way back to the surface, after which he verily LEAPT out of the tank, spasmodically moseyed across the landscape into the nearby town of Jabrawlter, located the hospital, entered the structure, and searched and surveyed the halls for several minutes until he found and henceforth burst into the office of one Dr. Bartholomew Grinchblaster, the town's master surgeon. After avoiding an explosive shotgun round and having a short argument, Timmy managed to convince the doc to attempt the reconnection of the dead hunk of dead flesh to Wendy Wallabeebromine’s dead, dead carcass.

The unlikely duo trekked to the nearby desert, where Wendy’s headless body had inexplicably teleported. It awaited them inside a see-through force-field capsule. After pressing the Open button and shooting away the swarming robo-vultures with his handy shotgun, Doc Grinchblaster attempted the grisly deed at once, using a cactus needle and dental floss to carry out the task. Following reattachment, the doc scratched his head for a way to reanimate the dead flesh.

Luckily for all involved, Stan the monkey returned from Jupiter at that VERY MOMENT, landing in their midst with his stylish Flying Hamburger, which sent dust and sand particles tumbling, being as they were in the desert.

"You know what I'd do," Stannicus sagely advised as he leaned in with a hand to the side of his monkeymouth, "I'd juggle some of my own feces, dance around, and say KAZAAM, and it would probably be allll better!" Timmy and Dr. Bartholomew Grinchblaster looked at each other, obviously awestruck at the obviousness of this, and they summarily henceforth tried it at once. Lo and behold, the lovely (yet severely scarred) Wendy Wallabeebromine sat straight up, blinking with her remaining eyelid, and said "I'm alive!” Doc Grinchblaster, Stan, and Timmy all twirled cannibalistically, hissing ecstatically, “It’s alive… IT’S ALIIIIIIVE…”

Wendy blinked & her third eye began glowing. “Would you like to make love to me now?"

"Indeed!" said Stan, the Doc, and Timmy at once.

"Not you doc, not you stupid monkey!" she screamed.

"The screaming is a side effect of reanimation, she'll be fine," Bartholomew Grinchblaster explained calmly, idly combing cake chunks out of his quasi-futuristic beard.

Timmy could see that it was time to turn on the charm. "Fabulous, my darling Wendy, but first let us wash all this monkey feces off ourselves and make sure your head is on tight enough with that dental floss that it wont slip off while we shag!" Having said this, Tim once again switched off the charm.

An ear destroying scream once again emanated from Wendy’s voicebox, after which they all speedwalked back to the location just outside of Jabrawlter, whence the 0.5 league deep octopus/dolphin/transforming-shark tank had been, with thoughts of doing exactly that, tragically only to tragically find the 0.5 league deep octopus/dolphin/transforming-shark tank had been tragically DESTROYED in a most tragic fashion! Water and glass particles flooded the premesis, and octopi and dying shark pieces flopped around uselessly in the green and purple streets.

"What filthy rat-bastard has the cojones? --THE MOXXY?-- to have destroyed the Octopus-people's lovely gift to us?," Timmy Mcgregorshinobi grumbled loudly and intently, brandishing his waterproof samurai sword. He glared at the townsfolk, many of whom had gaping wounds from the dastardly shark-transforming dolphin attack.

"Dont you remember, the entire thing was a trick!" Stan the monkey said, hopping angrily up and down. "I learned their plans at the secret Octopus Headquarters on Jupiter, and I came back here as fast as i could to warn y'all, but it was sadly too sadly late for some of ... y'all."

"Then we must maketh war on the Octupi! This injustice will not go unjustified! Let us load the Flaming Hamburger with scud missiles and dive bomb their evil McLair on McJupiter! WHOS WITH ME?!" The townsfolk roared, squealed, or bled their approval (depending on their level of incapacitation), as Timmy McGregorshinobi held his waterproof samauri sword to the sky heroicalloically.

“Grab your patented laser kazoo, Stan! Doc Grinchblaster! Wendy! WE RIDE!” The foursome ran and LEAPT into the Flaming Hamburger and summarily blazed off toward the brightest star in the sky, intent on carrying out their awesome plans.

---Will the dead townsfolk be avenged? Will the octopus threat on Jupiter be quenched? Will Timmy and his pals ever wash off that damned monkey feces? How soon will they realize they’re really going toward Venus? Tune in next beak! …to find out the answers to these questions and more, on the Adventures of Timmy McGregorshinobi---

Ryan McNames "hint maybe click on his name and find out who this goofball fan of Monkey Pickles is made from"

~~ We look forward to the continued Adventures of Timmy McGregorshinobi ~~




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