On a Steinway! Film at 11

Before you conk me over the head with my own shiny "SO PROUD TO BE HIS MOTHER" badge, may I just preface this post by saying that, yes, a part of me wants to let the world in on how fab my boy is, but part of me honestly just wants to chronicle* the following for the sake of having a record of it all. No, really. I'm dead serious as a doornail about that last part. The chronicling part. Read on.

Warning! Lengthy parenthetical ahead: (*Are any of you fellow bloggers like me in that you justify the time spent blogging {and chronicling} as simply following The Plan as you pretend that your blogging is the same as writing in your journal? Cuz I sure do. Takes quite a weight off of my shoulders, to tell you the truth. You see, I can kill two birds with one cake . . . wait, I can have two cakes and eat them too . . . wait . . . I'll get it . . . I can brag a little (a little?!), and I can keep a commandment all on the same Mac! Ta da! Thank you very much; my job here is done.)

All right! I AM getting on with it. Are you ready? Here goes: If you were paying attention to yesterday's post, you know that Master Christian auditioned for and was selected to be a part of the prestigious All-State Band! That means that he got to play percussion with the best musicians from the entire state at Abravanel Hall. Cool, huh. And it is super cool that even though he doesn't play the piano for any of his bands (he usually plays snare, timpani, marimba, drumset, loud clanky blocks, etc.), he was invited to play the piano for the two-part 18-minute symphony which the band performed during the concert. At Abravanel Hall! On a Steinway! In his very own tux!

Uh, can I have my shiny badge back? I want to slap it on my chest now.

Today's Quote is Brought to You By: The Coz

"That's my boy."

--Bill Cosby

Film at 11. Well, um, not at 11. I've just always wanted to write that. Film at maybe, perhaps, probably, not-making-any-promises-but-hopefully tomorrow. Ya'll come back now, ya hear?!

Oh Danny Boy . . . Oh Boy!!!

Well, it has happened yet again. Our mischievous house leprechaun, DANIEL QUINN, trotted on over again on St. Patrick's Day.

Little Kimball is now apprenticing with Daniel Quinn to take over when old Danny Boy retires. Kimball passed the entrance test with flying colors, mostly due to his authentic red hair (no henna rinse here, folks!), his penchant for wearin' o' the green, and his uncanny ability to strike the "leprechaun pout pose" on demand. (Those little leprechauns can be quite cantankerous if you get on their bad side, just so ya know.) In Kimball's case, however, his pout is the result of his incredible innate acting ability; Kimball's good nature always shines through in the end, no matter how hard he tries to fool us.

And the Fernwoods Go To . . .

We have a winner, folks!

But before I announce the winner, I need to thank you all (the hoards and hoards of you) who participated in my dippy little caption contest. So thanks! And now, without further ado, the winner is . . .

Stop the presses! Before I announce the winner I need to admit that I about split a gut laughing while reading through your submissions. Who knew you guys were all so funny? Knee slappers! So thanks! And now, without further ado, the winner is . . .

Whoa up. Uh, just one more thing, if you don't mind. (Sounds like Peter Falk in Columbo, huh.) I have to defend my judging decision by saying up front that I was not unduly influenced or coerced in any manner of my selection of the winner.

And there were absolutely no discussions about striking a deal involving the exchange of a certain box of chocolates for bathrooms being scoured and scrubbed and the guest towels fluffed and encircled with a bit of pretty grosgrain ribbon and the toilet paper replaced with the paper going over the top of the roll. Over the top--or else!!! Nah. None of that talk happened.

Nor was I promised a ginormous gift card bearing bar code number 00012876752 to Nordstrom at the University Mall if I chose this particular caption.

And there was seriously NO WAY that any under-the-table dealing went on with the vow of ponying up a purty little black 2010 E550 with saddle colored interior for little ol' me if the decision went, ahem, a particular way.

So with all of that said and understood, the big winner of the box of Fernwood Chocolate Mint Sandwiches is:

"I'd introduce you to my wife,

but she's having a bad hair day."

In the end, I had to go with the caption that really spoke to me. And unfortunately, this one pretty much sums up my life.

Thanks for playin' ya'll! I'll be out shopping for a little bit of this and a little bit of that (E550) if anyone needs to reach me.

So! What Have You Got to Say?

Got a caption for this photo?

Let 'er rip! Remember, be kind--we don't want any hurt feelings.

(Those wormy sculptures can be soreheads at times . . . .)

The unbelievablyfantasticmotherlode prize for the best submitted caption is shown below. Now, I ask you--does life get any bigger or grander than winning a mint sandwich? That's what I thought.

And now for the fine print: Again with the fine print? Yep. We run a legitimate business with this little dog and pony show, don't you know. So buck up, bucky, and go here to get a refresher course on the fine print. So! What have you got to say? Oh, and good luck to ya'll!

Captionless

Dagnabit, Myrtle, she's at it again . . .

IT'S ANOTHER DREADED

CAPTION CONTEST!

Run for your lives!

Well! Since it appears that we're all still experiencing those "drag-me-down-to you-know-where-winter-blues" causing me to be pretty darn close to chopping my head off, this is as good of a time as any to announce another caption contest! I KNOW! Can you believe it? You can thank me later. I can actually sense your excitement right now through my big monitor thingy! To jog your memory about the last caption contest and the hilarity that ensued, go here.

So, here's the drill: Tomorrow I will post a captionless photograph and let you go to town. But remember! Be kind! Also, a bunch of boring rules must be followed (please see small print below). The winner will receive the unbelievably fantastic mother lode of . . . um, let's see, the unbelievably fantastic mother lode of . . . well, the unbelievablyfantasticmotherlode of something or other. I'll get back to you on that. So enter today! You have until March 22 to submit as many captions as your little noggin can dream up. You can also submit anonymously if you are a bit shy about your brilliance--no need to name drop your own name if you don't want to cuz I'll be able to dig you up if you're the big winner. I can do that because I know people who know people who know people. You know, that whole Kevin Bacon thing and the six degrees of separation hooha.

And now for the fine print: a) winner must be living in the USofA (residents of Yuma, Arizona are not eligible due to the fact that they live in the USofA's "sunniest city", thus having absolutely no reason to snivel or whine about the ol' "drag-me-down-to-you-know-where-winter-blues" {Oooooh. Yes, I admit it, jealousy raises her ugly head here, folks . . .}; b) winner agrees to really, really, really try to put on a happy face when awarded the unbelievablyfantasticmotherlode of something or other; and, c) winner must agree to never, as in NOT UNTIL PIGS FLY, sue this sponsor if Kevin Bacon accuses winner of stalking him.

(Pigs, Kevin BACON, get it? . . . oh, I'll stop now.)

MORP

This year's theme for MORP:

BEAUTY AND THE GEEK

I would say, "mission accomplished" this go round, yes?

MORP = PROM spelled backward

The girl asks the guy

Um, . . . do you think this girl knew what she was

getting into when she asked this guy?

Christian is such a sport.

Another Q & A With Christian

HER QUESTION:

HIS ANSWER:

*Just in case you were wondering, we believe in recycling paper--but we do draw the line with . . . well . . . uh . . . how do I tactfully put this? We do draw the line with used T.P. Oh my. Now I've gone and done it. I hope I haven't offended anyone's delicate sensibilities with a bit too much information . . .

This Too Shall Not Pass

Whaddaya mean, this too shall NOT pass? No siree, bob. This video isn't going anywhere any time soon. I predict this will be setting a higher (and welcomed!) standard for music videos. So take that, MTV! Rube Goldberg must be hyperventilating with pride . . . er, that is if he's still alive . . . anybody know? Anyone? Anyone? Rube? Hey, Rube? Um, guess not. ANYWHO,

THIS WILL BLOW YOUR MIND!

Just watch.

A couple of times.

You'll love it.

You're welcome.

CONSUMER ALERT: Unfortunately, my blog is cutting off the right side of the video. LAME-O. You can watch the chopped off version below, or you can just click here and see it in all of its glory. Either way, just watch, k? But I recommend watching it in its hugeness. So just click. Click.

OK GO - "This Too Shall Pass"

Payday!

My worn-down-by-winter soul just received a much-needed hiiiii-yup in the form of this:

And so it appears that I may make it through this blasted winter to see my pasty white thighs in shorts after all. Let the record show that I am officially apologizing in advance for that horrific spectacle.