Day 187: Roasted Duck Leg with Prunes

According to different articles I saw, there is anywhere between twenty-five and sixty-six million people addicted to playing Candy Crush Saga. And two, to whichever figure is truthful. The boy and I have both succumbed. I can't quite work out what makes it addictive though. It's certainly not the intensely annoying music and borderline-sleezy verbal utterances of 'sweet', 'divine' and 'sugar crush'. There is some element of skill in working with what you get, but an awful amount of luck required to get what works. In that way I suppose it is a little like gambling. I think though, like chocolate biscuits, it is deprivation that makes you want it more. When those lives run out and you have to wait thirty minutes for just one more life, there is nothing that you want more than for those thirty minutes to go. And it is the quintessence of evil in add-on sales for that reason. But buying lives and other game aids is exorbitant. A virtual brush to paint stripes on your candy (stripey candy is more effective—for the information of the thirteen people not addicted—than non-stripey), once per game, costs about forty dollars! What!! People! Don't fall for it. The company is too ashamed, according to my 'interpretation' of one article I saw, to even say how much they are making. I can imagine it's a lot. The good thing about waiting for extra lives, if you can swallow that bitter pill, is you get to have your own back for a while. Take advantage of it.

List_Addict               Irene
Being behind in my blog due to a recent green alien infestation of my being, and having also, as a result, spent a lot of time on the couch waiting for new lives, I can now update you that it just gets worse. I have completed level thirty-five since the last paragraph (with all but this one and thirty-three now with three shiny stars), to find that in order to get to the next stage of the game, I have to either recruit unsuspecting prey to the game in the form of Facebook friends (it feels like Scientology), pay ninety-nine cents (yeah, it seems a small amount, but you start here and you end up with a forty dollar virtual paint brush), or do three mystery quests. Oh? Yeah? I can do mystery quests? What's the catch? The catch is the game counts down from twenty-four hours, in seconds, between each mystery quest. It is the electronification of evil. That is all I can say. And now, all I can do is try to get three stars on my last two levels until I can do the next mystery quest. Evil.

For those who have just recently tuned in and are wandering why my title suggests a recipe and my content totally ignores it, the titles are, at the moment based on Australian-French chef Gabriel Gate's daily culinary treat introduced at the beginning of each nights transmission of the Tour de France. I love the Tour. I am not a fan of prunes. But if you would actually like to make this dish, you can find the instructions here. Bon Appetit!

The Outfit Jumper/Dress: Op-shopped Tights: Retail Bangles: Cheap and Cheerful Junk Jewellery Store Somewhere (CCJJSS) and a dear one from Myers Necklace: Gifted, from blackjewls at a market in Apollo Bay Boots: Dr Martens

Photographer de Jour: Moi

Who wore it better?

Making friends today with:

and