Farkel Queen

Oh, yeah. I seriously kick ass.

Forget poker, baby. [Don’t get me started on the current bizarre poker craze. Why is it that all of a sudden I can purchase poker paraphernalia at every corner store, collector’s boutique and Costco? Who decided that this was going to be the next “thing”? Fortunately, it hasn’t become completely obnoxious (yet) but only fringe annoying. Like televised bowling. See it, shudder and move on.] Right now, it’s all about the Farkel.

Mr. QuarterRest actually abandoned the fourth round of our Farkel tournament last night to watch MadTV, after it was screamingly obvious that he was going down in flames yet again. [hey, I never said that I had a real life or anything.] He was also in a sulk because of what he perceived to be questionable score-keeping on my part. Of course the accusations were completely unfounded and false, but, despite my attempts to allow several of his tippy or floor-bound dice to count, he insisted on re-rolling and Farkeling into near-record stretches of scoreless turns.

Poor guy. Perhaps it was an adverse reaction to the garlic on the ribs at supper, or the accumulation of too much salt from Farkel tournament snacks. Perhaps too much recent computer work had adversely affected his throwing hand.

The die are still out. Mr. QuarterRest likes to end on a winning streak. Showdown after supper.

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