Presentation is everything
This quick, blurry mugshot is the best picture I could get of Jim's dinner masterpiece before he started to whine about, Oh, I wanna eat my food while it's hot, and If my wife cooked for me, I wouldn't have to eat Mr. Bill.
Jim's on a roll tonight. He just suggested that we get my readers together for a Cotillion Man March. Then he thought we could make a TV show called Who Wants to be a Cotillionaire?
I need to take his chicken patty away.
27 of you felt the overwhelming need to say somethin':
*needs comfy boots for marching*
Where is Mr Hands when you need him? Does that make Jim Sluggo.
Tee-hee, we all want to be Cotillionares.
Chicken Patty was one of the "Central 17." She waited in the van.
I want to be a Cotillionaire!
Mr. B - jammies with feet will also suffice. It's only about a three-block march.
Squirl - I cropped it out, but Jim is actually Mr. Hands. I am Sluggo.
Susie - I knew that Chicken Patty sounded shifty. My mom would flip if she knew I was hangin' out with a Central 17 vandal. Next thing you know, we'll be smokin' Marlboros behind the cafeteria.
Kitty, Kitty, Kitty...you'll be disappointed to know them's mashed taters. Yes, Jim puts ketchup on his mashed taters.
I know.
THAT is a thing of beauty.
a) What's wrong with ketchup on mashed potatoes?
b) I had no idea Jim had such artistic talent! What an excellent likeness of Mr. Bill
c) I am glad to know I am not the only one so ancient and decrepped as to RECOGNIZE Mr. Bill. You realize that was about thirty years ago!
and yes, count me in for the Cotillion Man March!
Kranki - I'll tell Jim that even sophisticated people thought his taters were lovely.
Bear - 30 years, huh? Can I just deny that it could possibly be 30 years since Mr. Bill's debut? Aaaaaargh! And that I watched Mr. Bill when he was first run? *sigh*
And ketchup on mashed potatoes is, well, not my bag, baby. And yes, I have tried it, on more than one occasion. It's not horrible - Jim's logic is, you put ketchup on french fries, and they're potatoes, right? - but I would rather just have butter and salt and call it good.
OH NO! MR BILL!
(I can't believe I'm the first person who's said that.)
That is all.
He's gonna be MEAN to meeeeeee!
and for those of you who just don't get it...
mr bill sound snippets
Ooh-ooh, I wanna be a Cotillionaire! Or be part of the Cotillion Man March--Do they get to wear assless chaps or something?
teehee!
I have to say--that's a lovely piece of artwork--I put ketchup on everything too....
Stupid question: Who is Mr. Bill??
Oh Effie...*sad droop of head*...you poor child! C'mere and let me tell you a story.
Once upon a time, there was a show called "Saturday Night Live" and it was real, live comedy with talented comedian/ennes. And Mr. Bill was a claymation figure before there was such a word, and oh damn, there now I'm getting all choked up....I miss you, Mr. Bill!
Thanks for clearing that up for me--you see, I lived a sheltered childhood, never allowed to watch SNL until I was out on my own....(excuses, excuses)
Bucky--I have decided to make the plunge and have officially linked your site to mine. My Mom said she doesn't check out my links anyways...not saying anything about your site or anything... teehee ;)
Bucky, it was behind the gym, and it wasn't Marlboros, if you know'm sayin'...
LadyBug, thank you, you have restored my faith in humanity by saying what needed to be said here.
Oh No Mr. Bill . . . Don't eat me, don't eat me.
I want to be a Cotillionaire! So is there a membership fee?
Opera gal - timely, as always, with the sound clips. Ooooooh Noooooooooo!
Effie - chaps are not required for the march, but they'd certainly liven the whole thing up, wouldn't they? And thank you for being brave enough to link to me. If your mom happens upon it, tell her is was a mistake...
Eclectic - did you check out Opera gal's link? There's a whole site for Mr. Bill! Even squashed, he lives on...
Susie - are you sayin' it was them "Marlboro Golds" we was a-smokin'?
That would truly explain my math grades.
Nanina - I'm sorry to say Mr. Bill was promptly eaten by Mr. Hands (aka Jim).
And all you need to be a Cotillionaire is at least a cotillion dollars in your bank account.
I hope to just let Jim roll and brainstorm. When his brain is back to normal, you can go over all of his brainstorming and decide what is realistic and what needs to be flushed down the toilet. If his brain does not go back to normal, you may have to flush his brain!
Y'mean Bucky Crocker doesn't cook?
How can that be?
Oh, I 'wanna' be a Cotillionaire too!
Yet another good idea for your cafepress store!
SS Nick - I don't know if I'd flush the whole brain; I kinda like it when it goes outta control like that. I just know some stroke of genius will be jumbled in with all the other stuff.
Sierrabella - It's true, I am not the domestic goddess I've led you all to believe. I can kindasorta cook, but I don't care to.
And yeah, I've got all kinda ideas for my cafepress store that I just need to design, dammit! Your emailed suggestion is definitely next on my product list.
Tee-hee, Bucky said stroke.
ooh, ooh, are you gonna make us Cotillionaire T-shirts? I am so buying that if you do! Just don't $2-whore it up, cause I wanna actually wear the thing, you know?
That picture offends every single fiber of my being. Is that pressed chicken parts? Breaded pressed chicken parts?
Tell me its soy, or or, oh man, anything.
Ewwwwwwwwwwwwwwwwwwwwwwwwwww
ew
shudder
As long as it wasn't Toonces the driving cat...
I'm sorry. I couldn't help it.
*Goes off to find marching boots and chaps*
Man, I am getting my balloon-skirt & petticoats READY. But that's a long march, do you think I could get a rickshaw or something? It's hard work twirling a parasol.
BTW, you two are completely a match set. Congrats on finding him, even if he puts ketchup on his mashed po-tay-toes.
(breaks into song)...Tell me, tell me...how to be....a cotillionare....
Squirl - stroke of genius just means Edison's very happy.
Susie - from your lips to Bucky's ear...wow, now that I've said it, that just sounds dirty, doesn't it? I shall be makin' Cottilionaire t-shirts, and another idea sent to me by Sierrabella and her Mr. MB.
Jess - that's what happens when a man's wife won't cook for him.
Momentarily distracted - He CAN drive, just not very well!
Plazajen - one rickshaw with your name on it, comin' up!
Dazed - you're givin' me 80s flashbacks again...
Bone - I suggest some shades about the darkness of mine.
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