Mario Kart 8 Story

Dr. Mario heads through downloading drivers into ice cream traffic cones to visit a dinosaur at a gingerbread house, stopping by Undead Motors for a king’s oil and sunshine parts to his midget racing car so he can upload his 1-Up Fuel and see dandelion rainbows and kitchen ghosts. The Italian American also happens to visit a princess in her kitty costume who nearly runs over birds and frogs, but Cheep Cheep Beach is still an aqua blue crystal clear and he has so much trouble with Rainbow Thwomps who crunch out all their teeth. The doctor who is that plumber owns a nice glowing subcoaster because of his funds from the canyon’s gingerbread crowd. Two princesses work in a pastry shop and become responsible for the phenomenal tunnel hall donuts, but Dr. Mario drives in “Don’t Know Jungle” against thoughts for useless coins and hopes to Mario that Toad Harbor doesn’t have any toads. Once upon major times, Mario saved a castle’s hot air balloons from burning with Bowser’s Oil by kicking the bucket. The wild woods is an environment like lit candle houses have it since Princess Peach’s servants live in the same houses as miners do live in, while Dr. Mario must drive where dolphins wear goggles and protect their home from underwater electric eels. He happened to have driven through the Dragon Driftway and get the taste of seeing ninja murals, and the twisted mansion has a good shortcut to Waluigi’s Library which ghosts dine near without looking at plumbers or carpenters and becoming gone materials. Mama Luigi knows a princess who owns an electrodome where Toadstool Disco plays and boney flowers dance to the beats. He’s Mario’s brother, and also a mother. Of course, grave skull creatures sail on a vain ship in Bone-Dry Dunes; Dr. Mario has been working with environments of someone’s choices, and now Tone-Fry Maroons will swelter in a bad music park after these mysterious sands reflect the halos of cloudy vines in the heavens. Mario’s vehicle has a fuzzy battery, too. He takes the sports drink made from a burning monkey’s bananas and also makes a pitstop by Lemmy’s Tire Service; Lemmy rips him off, so this plumber gets by the mushroom piston and watches an actor on Mario Kart Television named Captain Falcon. The brave racer says on TV, “Show me your moves!” Of course, a mute city is the Tron of Zelda, and so Dr. Mario turns into metal sometimes and conducts a machine with bars over bullets and trials, putting on a golden wheel towards Mario Motors. He gets involved with a mannered purchase for a dolphin at the Super Marine World Dive Shop; however, he nearly gets fisted by a Lava Godzilla and enters himself for the fun flowers, stopping by the tropical grocery for mushrooms that won’t quit and getting waved at by so many dinosaurs and dancing natives with long noses. Did I tell you about Yoshi’s Egg Market? Well, there’s plenty of eggs on the mountains, and Mario crashes with stars before getting struck by cute lightning. Dr. Mario hates it with gritting teeth when some goombas do the cha cha dance on one of his raceways; Captain Toad’s toy store will put smiles on people who wear masks, and there’s a coffeehouse that serves coconuts right by the subway. Shy guys have worked with metals and jewelry since 1987 and have been meowing since Nintendo’s dawning era, and selected few shy guys fly on galaxy air to places that advertise the doctor’s plumbing gear. Where do these planes come from? Why, the Boomerang Brothers International Airlines! The airplane facility is a sunshine airport that supports the Organization for Women’s Racing. Sometime in the future, more princesses will own dream gliders and get plenty of bananas, so Dr. Mario rides on the Bowser Ship Rollercoaster and thinks about how he spent his time at a park as a baby, even owned the park as a baby. He ignores usual commercials about turtle shells since he’s also a scientist who solves puzzles and gets rid of germs; he’s trying to defeat a dictator in a race. King Koopa wants to build rollercoasters down the drain and torture gold folks, but Mario won’t let him hurt feelings. Mario talked to the Big Bad Wolfe, who wears a Hawaiian shirt and looks out from the tanned coast at night auroras and one wonderful lighthouse in comfortable daytime. The Big Bad Wolfe also has a mother who dresses herself an apron in her Animal Crossing world; Dr. Mario leads the other racers from Undead Motors, going sightseeing in a city that belongs to a princess’s servant who happens to be a captain: Captain Toad. (He also works as Construction Worker Toad.) A camera-alien’s sign raises a battle-cry alarm when two or three guys drive backwards, but Dr. Mario dodges sumo musical balloons and gets to the castle’s hot air balloons by mushroom flight. Captain Toad’s Propeller Toad Transport Buses offer great service even in the face of goodness. Dr. Mario smacked his face onto a snowy tree by Wario’s dam last week, but now, his sunshine parts are working! King Koopa loses in the race and Dr. Mario gets all kinds of trophies in the shapes of eggs, flowers, stars, diamonds; yep. At last, he can be a plumber and a racer, but his carpenter job was awful: he had to, 80’s then, use a mallet first on a fireball, then after then he picked up a pipe to guard a gorilla whom he will later get banana energy drinks from. (ColecoVision, eh?) Mama Luigi knew ghosts who didn’t eat much at the twisted mansion’s fountain; besides, a doctor is conditioned for orders in new ways as time flies. Dr. Mario had such a marvelous kiss from Princess Peach by the castle during the 90’s; now hot air balloons are free to roam with creatures wherever they slumber: ice ice, dry dry, moo moo, cheep cheep, sweet sweet. As their old folks say, “Press A to start!”

http://mariokart8.nintendo.com/


attribution- https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Mario_Kart_8

Restaurant Review, Primo Burgers 118E F St, Tehachapi, CA 93561

Restaurant Review, Primo Burgers

118 E F St,  Tehachapi, CA  93561

Because they serve food on plenty of the day ahead of me, I can take home a menu and imagine a quick time out for coffee near those raspberry soda flavors.  When I’m too big for a meal, I make it bigger!  I can use chili with a couple kinds of cheese.  My French toast has half of Texas food for savoring because syrup may be dynamic.  “I think my French fries have half of Texas food, too.”  Trying out these jokes at Primo Burgers fills my family in on appetite on hot summer hours and depth-of-winter hours.  When I come here, I follow the sun.  Taquitos are served with piles of rice and beans, although guacamole is strange fruit to me.  I can fish up an okay dinner of rib eye steak when the restaurant’s chicken is touched enough by open kitchen flames, so I can grab several wings with zucchini and tremendous rings of hot onion.  Shrimp is mystery; shrimp improves with my age because of all the lemon zest and fried qualities of oily meat.  Burritos are alive with delicious stuffing.  I respect breakfast.  The few cod pieces put salad on a roll with Primo Burgers’ display of family photography not to mention famous clips of popular faces.  Want pastrami with deep sauce?  That’s available too!  A sampler plate is test for favorites in sides form.  Now, you can make a burger club-style of awesome ingredients giving a specific demand, before simply taking few hungry bites during family discussion.  That’s me in summary on a day of reckoning quick plates of soft crumbs.  Tuna can melt on me with ludicrous speed.  I try a tri tip when I try, thus more beef in dip is pleasurable satisfaction.  At Primo Burgers, I’m like a dude with faith: enjoy, laugh, jolly.  It’s a weekend in the corner with trait experiences; Primo Burgers is this.  I’m not a guest who has his name written down here because, quite frankly, Primo Burgers has servers who get alone in public on epic moments.  My theory is if a guy brings a dog around the establishment, there’s no garden left to have for my dining experience.  Are two sandwiches double?  “South of the Border” is the decorated restaurant’s catchphrase for meals hot with spices and particular textures.  Their famous salsa isn’t always new; I put chorizo where it belongs.  Experiences are for other experiences, so I remind my family at a comfortable table why I have sauce questions through possible boredom.  Pattie melts are turkeys in my mind since bread types in our rustic lobby aren’t consistent with relation to ambiance and my precious surroundings in memory.  I kick bacon for eggs!  Tacos are more expensive than burgers because I need so many of them.  Besides, what time is it for pleasure?  There isn’t entertainment written by the crew about parties at this local restaurant where potatoes stuff a burrito in two ways: inside, outside.  I’m not a local golfer named after a storm when dining for less and eating delicious flavors to visit the restaurant’s wooden building of sensational opportunities.  “Give me sausage or give me eggs.”  The worker laughs until her hands reach the artistic cups of refreshment for Diet Pepsi and vanilla shots, which are large in my hands when I walk across the red floor to coffee options and salsa containers.  Ignore the warnings about salsa because you need to explore tastes of immediate effect with the utmost gusto customers need to strive for.  I personally add lots of green and red salsas to tiny items for Mexican cuisine, a sturdy dish which highlights the cherry pickings that Americans tend to lean for.  That’s good Mexican food!  Of course, I recommend Yolanda’s tomato sauce recipe in Ventura; it complements my Tehachapi experiences and makes me realize my behaviors for dining.  Primo Burgers is like that funny Joe’s diner that’s messy with its appeal yet its laughing cashiers can tune up your reality with professional moves.

Poem- "Memorial Policy"

Memorial Policy

I twist real lime by sun vista in her prime while there’s degree to sizzle,
As spiced colors in worn hand are mom’s favorite like snow and rain in drizzle:
More stars turn wet from desires in love and romance pictures fly on breath,
Thus we’re illusional masters to ride on joy toward candles in black death;
Just beginning our end of days through Mexican hours near dawning soap,
While she gets thirsty energy during big grasp of love for cantaloupe,
History about crib as I run grass statistics using green liquid,
Putting sweets inside her ear when I remember to operate dead squid.

*This poem shows the kind of attention disorder I have.  My mind mixes up numerous events on certain poems into abstract data, which appeals more to senses than intellect.  "Black death" is a phrase about burned out candles in darkness and "Mexican hours" refers to my restaurant visits by Golden Hills.  I think in shapes and contours in addition to color and reason.  Enjoy!

https://commons.wikimedia.org/wiki/File%3AFruit_Stall_in_Barcelona_Market.jpg
https://upload.wikimedia.org/wikipedia/commons/a/af/Fruit_Stall_in_Barcelona_Market.jpg
By By en:User:Daderot. (First uploaded to en:wiki on 5 Apr 2005.) [GFDL (http://www.gnu.org/copyleft/fdl.html) or CC-BY-SA-3.0 (http://creativecommons.org/licenses/by-sa/3.0/)], via Wikimedia Commons

Poem- "Near the Poles"

Near the Poles

He took ice fish, placed a lemon in the air.

Dishes were thrown for the sharks.

Land was down with the blues around him.

Plenty of snow burned up in flames.

Stars got closer to the hunter.

Frozen elves played adagio.

Trees were green forever.

Bears drank what they swam in near cloudy edges of terrain.

Coffee tasted like mud under his footsteps to a dreamy camp.

That call of duty was music on cue.

A wife gave eye candy on judgement day.

The man had a connection with angels who cooked by a kitchen island.

Taste of salt from the ocean added pepper to his routines.

She turned hearts into a kind of medicine that would fly.

Flowers on the table got hot enough for them to talk.

There was less energy in the light as they heard the waves.

A brother lived in their arms.

Pizza Delivery Review, Domino’s Pizza 1121 W Valley Blvd Tehachapi, CA 93561

Pizza Delivery Review, Domino’s Pizza 

1121 W Valley Blvd  Tehachapi, CA 93561

I’d have pizza with buffalo chicken while taking a liter of drink in the form of cola or clean water.  Salads and drinks went together from my selections on Domino’s menu.  Tasting dried cranberries like a gambler, I’d pick up pizza slices with white meat and have a bubble in the form of Dasani or Zero Coke.  Pecans and apples were classics to my salad’s garden mix.  Chocolate dripped from mom’s order of two as I stuffed bread where cheese should be: there was my bread bite and home dining of praise.  Domino’s bread was like a stick because there was joy with parmesan and the last pepperoni.  Vegetables were so quiet on my plate; Domino’s icing wasn’t too sweet either.  Domino’s provided me a taste of Wisconsin, Memphis, and Italy.  “Bread Sides” became my resume of vacations at various hotels in Kern County and I saved breadsticks in personal fridge until I zapped them in powerful microwave to softness with spiced marinara.  My heart would get so shaky due to beautiful meals I’d get tender for with Domino’s mobile treats, which were actually at right temperatures in concept and presence.  Soda could be part of most diets since sugar in my drink was optional by proper proportion and right action.  Meat lovers in my green house that Domino’s delivered to also enjoyed Pacific Veggie Pizza as box of cheese pie with legumes, wet flavors, and simple hints of garlic.  Much of the pizza’s cheeses, toppings, sauces, and crusts reminded my brother of Italy’s pizza offerings, yet Domino’s flew off excellence with Philly cheese and American jalapenos.  Indeed, Domino’s liked to keep Hawaii by serving pineapple and smoked bacon, the two ingredients which combined on Hawaiian-style pizza with ham, peppers, and mozzarella to create spicy aftertaste with tones of fruit and smoke.  Domino’s delivered to my hotel rooms as well as my green house with ludicrous effects and casual speed, thus food that was supposed to be hot turned out well.  Domino’s dishes were good quality compared to Old Towne Pizza’s random food in Tehachapi; in fact, Old Towne Pizza was a place to dine in rather than have deliver unless I’d like used oil and weak forks.  Domino’s made good presence at my middle school in the past; I saw that Domino’s magic graduated well in colors of red, white, and blue.

Poem- "My Mom is a Reader"

My Mom is a Reader

My brain is growing, I cut my nails.
Soon there’s the flower like the rain I begin as ordinary.
Rub that jelly, cook that sugar.
These drinks melt as cats remove their claws.
Only, only only, sheep sheep sheep.
Do you know about the Arctic Cream?
That farmer talks badly to a scarecrow.
It’s a mystery if I eat like your delicious fractions.
My commas are like my curly hair (those broken flames of sealed times).
I will talk to you when you get home.
Okay, I am back at work.
Actually don’t get the paperback.
Good idea!  Remember how big the internet serves as aptitude.
It’s better if my verge goes away, it’s your pardon to me.
The jungle is on your chest.

http://www.deviantart.com/art/For-Mother-121773633
*The artistic painting in this link is rocamiadesign's work, but I feel that it relates to my poem with the same exotic colors.  I suggest getting products of the artist's!  There's cards, prints, and posters available.

Poem- "Organ Home"

Organ Home

When you list upon a star, out upon a midnight green dwarf star,

A fairy uses some mint to get the cotton out of her nails,

Then monsters have candy to add to balloons against our sweet galaxy;

Delicious treaties are firm to sign on with wet feathers,

So when your shoe is pie by letters in the name of guilty chemistry,

Rich hammers are little wind below those open sea levels to wild pigs,

Before this played hand on a sunken ship brings it back to kind Martians:

My unidentified gift as I’m passing away to savory ports,

Wisdom in my dialect to your eternal ideas of fun sizes,

The ghost’s hero with that informal toy about happy holidays to dead years,

Shattered routines we drift from like a new cast on poor dreams;

Magnifying taste over washed skin is the hot shower in rainbow’s end,

As closeness of our traits repeals the open end of love at marked lands,

Happily, ever after work on a break for cooking time to dry meals,

While a witch paints the sky to trolls as forms of bright labor.

*This is a fictional poem about a place that’s either like Toy Land or Candy Land, although there’s mostly yummy treats and cast spells of fireworks.  To read this poem, the reader needs to be familiar of movies like “Sword of the Stone” and songs like “Puff the Magic Dragon”.  The idea of silent thought can be pedantic, so be wild with this reading!  Television has been so pervasive in people’s lives that some unfortunate folks have forgotten what communication is supposed to be.  Enjoy, be blessed!

Poem- "Lonely Meal"

http://gameuniverso.deviantart.com/art/Lonely-Meal-655318115

Lonely Meal

Reflections out of time make out those phases which change discovery,

As we touch up access to pass through continues on recovery:
I see that passion flies in these worlds in stars to face more truth away,
When rhythm of spices catches a lady off my guard to ballet.

Our span of mutual ideas removes his spirit of the broken,

After compromise for that wall is one child’s roses low as woken.

A huge elf drinks from the fountain of youth as she to four letters gets,

Then she salutes known stars as my delicious family on serving bets.

*This is an abstract poem with variable images on saluting elves, kids roses, and a guarded dancer in compromise with my fortitude.  Clichés here are veiled in new language with fresh concepts.  If a writer doesn’t deconstruct language, various poetry proves impossible to exhibit.  What’s the matter?  Aren’t you hungry for information?  Get out of town, then return to me.

Poem- "Red Birds VS Blue Birds"

http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/red-birds-vs-blue-birds/

Red Birds VS Blue Birds

It’s rainshine for a wet action.

Wind is terribly exhausted.

Something feels a name three times as so many.

I hear a chicken running out of water.
My reflection in the black snow keeps up with its tune of cold blasts.
How do we make ice to stand from fever?
There’s moonlight within dad’s chocolate now.
Greetings may remain fair after words approach its subject.
Basically, I hear the horn behind my cape.
Destiny becomes sound before our pressure exists.
Mountains are a terrible waste on cue.
Birds, birds, birds, yourselves racist let be!

* In Ventura, a city in Southern California, I saw black birds and white birds fighting over a tree.  Since there’s that wrestling cliché of red versus blue in the fighting ring, I’m deciding to twist the truth a bit.  This is a Christmas poem about racism among birds.