Egg Navels and Phone Snobs

    Hey, everyone. I thought I'd tell you folks from foreign climes a bit about another odd custom we have here in the U.S.A. It involves ritual torture of eggs, among other things. We call it deviled eggs and it is a bit different than what springs to mind at the term. Sure, you picture an imp sticking a pitchfork into the quivering egg, while laughing diabolically. It is not like that and no eggs were harmed in the making of this blog.
    Oh, about the title. Check out the picture of this egg, which had a navel. Cool, huh? It was an 'inny' not an 'outey'. Does this point to some genetic deformity in the egg? Perhaps. Who knows what kinkiness hides behind the hard-shelled facade of egg-dom?
    What we do is boil a bunch of eggs. Then we peel the eggs, giving them a ceremonial bath; then cut them in half, pulling the yolks from the eggs. We then fill the white parts with a paste that looks suspiciously like a concoction of egg yolk, mustard, mayonnaise, salt and pepper. Then sprinkle paprika on top.
    Kids seem to love the things and moms tend to stop them from eating too many, as it causes Fartus Muchimus on the long drive home. Hey, sharing is caring.
   As you can guess, our Holiday dinner has been delayed until tomorrow. So I am assisting Carley in her preparations, including egg-stuffing.
    She hurt my feelings a while ago. It happened on this wise. I asked her to take a picture of our assembly line. As she was using my I-Phone ( 4s) (Not gold), she says "Gee, it didn't even check my fingerprint before letting me use it. Ha, ha, ha." This was a snide reflection on the fact that she has an I-Phone 5s (silver 16 gig) and I have none. I certainly do not have the I-Phone 5s (gold, 16 Gig) of my dreams. Sure, it hurt, but I bore it manfully, while still laboring over a hot egg. Sniff.
     One more note on wife-related cruelty. The minx photo-shopped that picture of me, (above, in the blue shirt) so that it would appear I had a beer belly. She's a great kidder. How I've suffered for my craft!
   From the fast-paced, live on the razor's edge world of the author's green retreat, I'm CE Wills, egg stuffer.

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Shadowgun: Crushing The Driller On Level 4

Hey, everyone. Let's talk about the game called Shadowgun, the I-Pad game with which I have a love-hate relationship. Most of you who made it past the evil Cyber Lobster are doubtless locked in a death struggle with the Driller at the end of level 4. At this point you have been in the cave for a long time. The Driller breaks through the rock wall and chases you through the tunnel as you try to shoot out the green lights which slows the Driller down. If you are slick enough to shoot out all the lights and emerge from the cave, a rolling door crashes on the Driller and crushes his aggravating carcass. I have tried and failed to beat the Driller at least 250 times. I hate the Driller to the heights and depths my soul can reach. I hate it like a plague. I hate it with intensity of feeling. I hate it like a rich man hates taxes. Excuse me, I got carried away. We had a big dinner here at the green retreat and my friend Trevor was ...

Faerie In a Glass Jar

Hey, everyone. Sometimes gaming can be high-pressure. Take tonight, for instance. I was playing the excellent puzzle game titled 4 Elements #2. I have already done a review of it so I won't attempt to do so again. You have to match symbols and use 'power-ups' to get molten lava to flow around a board and bring life back to a faerie world. Cool. That's what I do. I'm into it. There are also a variety of mini-puzzles such as hidden objects and even putting together a jigsaw puzzle. Hey, when I get in trouble I call Carley. Anyway, tonight, Carley wasn't around when a crisis struck. I was confronted with a faerie in a glass jar. She was crying for help. She said that she was running out of air. Every minute or two she would rattle the jar. In order to free her, I had to find all these objects and use them. Like there were some missing books. Then there was the pieces of a torch. When I found them I could light all the candles. I found the pieces of ...

You're Aiming the Missile Where?

Hey, everyone, out there in game-land. The number 1 game on the friendly neighborhood app store is Call of Duty: Strike Team . No wonder, because it is a terrific game. The farther I play, the cooler it gets. But before I get to that, what are all these numbers indicating on my gun? Has to be some sort of ammo indicator for the clips, I guess. either that or some of my compadres has trouble doing his math homework. Whatever. Hey. Check out the picture of me hitching a ride on an enemy truck so that my team can infiltrate a missile silo. Do you like the face mask? I bought it at a store called Fashions by Bane. Ha, ha. (Batman Reference) On this mission, my team was assisted by a Russian Spetsnaz squad. How's that for detente, comrade? These Spetsnaz guys make everything fun. What I mean is this. We shoot bunches of enemies and get into the bowels of the silo. We get to the gantry where the missile is (Pictured above) and we see that the rad...

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