Picture Sunday

Hello, end of weekenders, and welcome to a rather odd circumstance of Picture Sunday.

Now, remember back when I said I was tired of doing Picture Sunday, and was running out of pictures? Does anyone who remembers that realize that since my big declaration, I've put more pictures in my blog than any one human would ever want to see? I'm sure the slim days will come, but lately it seems every time I turn around I'm putting a buttload of pictures in here.

Anyway - I had a Picture Sunday idea I was going to use tonight, just as soon as I got my good camera back from Mr M. That was to be yesterday. However, Mr M came down with a more than wicked case of food poisoning this weekend and didn't make it down to the Poderosa as planned. That idea was scrapped.

However - I spent today in a fun and yet very sad way. Helping my dear friend Kellie with an ie pack up all her worldly possessions for her move west this week. We packed, and communed, and I can promise you her husband Kevin is not dead (for you hucklebug podcast listeners), because not only did I speak to him, and he spoke back, but he also gave me a very nice bottle of liquor for my work. Not only that, but Mr M and I got to go through the "to the YMCA Thrift Store" pile of discards and pick anything we wanted! I got a three-way vacuum (remember, I love me some vacuum cleaners), and a great wooden boat big enough for not only Sherman and Peabody, and an already seasick Huckleberry Hound, but for all the boys.

But soon enough it was time to say goodbye, again, Kellie with an ie and I have been doing the "Farewell Tour" thing and have said goodbye a few times, but this was indeed the last, unless she shows up on my doorstep tonight to say goodbye one last time.

Where all this is leading, though, is that even though I have my good camera back, there wasn't time to do the Picture Sunday I had planned (I just got home), and so stay tuned because there will be a special Holiday Edition Picture Tuesday. With a recipe included, I promise.

Oh, but my friends and blogees, that does not mean there is no Picture Sunday tonight. Far from it. For earlier in the week I got to do something I have been waiting ten years to do. Thursday night, my sister and I went to see Southern Culture on the Skids.

























See, the sister and I both love this band, and have been pussyfooting around trying to find places to see them for, really, 10 years. We actually had a close call when we had tickets once, only to have the club they were playing at close "for repairs." It went toe-up about a month later.

So when we found out they were playing in Kingsport, TN, about two hours from here - for free! - we knew nothing would keep us from our appointed round. And nothing did, not the heat, the rain, and the fact that we both had to work the next day.

For the uninitiated, SCOTS are a three-piece band from North Carolina who play - hmmm, let's see. How about "twangy retro country hillbilly surf zombie rock and roll?" Yeah, that's pretty close. And see, for their fans worldwide, they're a great band and talented musicians. But if you live where I live? They sing your life. Songs about fried chicken and gasoline, banana puddin', flies, cheap motels, cars, corn liquor, big hair... you get the idea.

Here's Guitar God Rick before the show. The hat was exquisite.

























And elusive drummer Dave. It's blurry. Because he's, well, elusive.

























And finally, my new superheroine, Mary. Who wears the best wigs in the world, is beautiful, can sing like nobody's business, is a hell of a bass player, and checks her makeup in a compact between songs. I know I'm older than both of them, but if Ferd Hackensaw and Mary Huff had a love child, I swear I'd be it.

























They were absolutely terrific, and I must say I'm very proud of the sister for going up to the stage and dancing the night away with me. I was prepared to go it alone, but she was true to her promise on the way down and left her husband sitting in the back while went we went up and danced. And we had a blast. I'm not kidding, I haven't felt that close to my sister in a long time.

Early on into the show, a little girl who was standing in front of us, about 11 years old, left the crowd, then suddenly appeared on the stage, dancing to the music and singing along. She knew the words to even the most obscure SCOTS songs. She was adorable. Then another little girl came up, and another. It was starting to get pretty interesting.


















The girl who started it all's in the pink dress.

Before we knew it, the stage was filled with people, kids, adults, biker gang-lookin' guys wearing KFC hats on their heads. And then that magic moment arrived.

See, we'd read just earlier in the week that Southern Culture has been known to throw fried chicken out to the audience during their shows. We joked about it constantly, saying we wanted them to play this song or that one, but most of all, we just wanted a piece of fried chicken.

When the crowd had spilled onto the stage, the band started up their classic ode to fried chicken, "Eight Piece Box." And out came the chicken. They were throwing it to the crowd, legs, thighs, even nuggets, but for those close to the stage, they had a different plan. They held it out to us, and we had to take a bite and let the next in line have a bite. It was like the Ultimate Southern Communion. We got a breast, and damn, it was good. I hadn't had KFC in ages. Original recipe. And for those of you germ fanatics yelling, "Ewww, gross," my sister and I were the first to bite off our piece, so it was all OK.

Here's the crowded stage right before the chickenfest.

















All too soon, though, it was over, and the sister and I headed over to the merchandise table to look at t-shirts. While we were there, we saw none other than Rick himself, and told him our 10-year plan to see them. He autographed my sister's t-shirt, "10 years and 2 hours later." He was very nice, and even waved for the camera. (Which, btw, I started to not even bring because it was my old digital with no features.)





















I have a feeling he's the founding member of the Hillbilly Surf Club.

After that, we went on the prowl for Mary. And who wouldn't?? We talked to her a while, and she's just so lovely, I swear I want to be her if I ever grow up. She kissed us both on the cheek.






















Yes, the B'burg Community Band hat made an appearance, as it was not only 90 degrees and 100% humidity, but raining as well. In fact, the clothes I was wearing? I'm not sure laundering will take care of them. I may just have to burn them.

Anway, it was a complete hoot, we had a ball, and everyone should keep an eye out for the night they come to your town.

Go hungry!

Happy week.

Betland's Olympic Update:
* Mr M's feeling better today, but not a lot.
* Even Kellie with an ie is not aware of this yet, but I spent a small amount of time in her belongings taking pictures of myself with her stuff on my head.