The First Annual Bonehead Blog Hop!

Welcome to the first Bloghead Bone Hop!  This is the idea of Cherdo, who never ceases to make you laugh uproariously…and at the same time make you think.  The thinking usually continues after you have finished laughing.
…oh, wait.  It’s the Bonehead Blog Hop.  My first boneheaded endeavor here, wouldn’tcha know…
Your hosts are Cherdo, of Cherdo on the Flipside.
And me (Diana Wilder)
Our motto: 
“Confession is good for the soul…it may not 
be your soul, but trust me – it’s good for someone’s soul.”
The problem with confessing to being a bonehead is that it’s so much easier to remember the boneheadedness that you have witnessed than that which you have actually done. 
I’ll never forget the Presbyterian minister who told of the time he was supposed to be the guest pastor at the First Presbyterian church in some town in rural Virginia, USA.  He got a late start, flew down the highway, cringing whenever he saw a large Ford sedan (the police used them almost exclusively at that time), found the church (impressive old edifice), turned into the parking lot at 70 mph  with gravel spraying under his tires as he yanked the wheel toward the door.  Scrambling into his robes, he went tearing up the side of the building and into the door near the sacristy, knocking over an usher and what looked like one of the deacons.
The service hadn’t started yet.  He wiped his brow with his flowing sleeve, turned to the ushers and elders who were standing before him with their jaws sagging.  “We have five minutes till the service starts!   I have my sermon ready.  Who’s the chief usher?  Listen, I can signal when it’s time to start the collection.  Here’s my sermon-” he slapped it on the podium “-let’s get going!” 

Sideways glances.
”Er…  What church are you supposed to be at?”

Vestment for a Bonehead
He stared.  “The First Presbyterian Church of Littleville, Virginia, of course!” he snorted.  
“…if you go out the driveway, sir, and take a left, you’ll find it on the right a mile down the road.” 
Silence followed by a polite cough.  “We’re the First BAPTIST church?  If you hurry, you won’t miss the


**   **   **
I was in the drama club in college.  I worked on costumes, set, props.  Generally made myself useful.  …And I so wanted to have a speaking part.  Somehow, other people got them.  You know, the popular folk who looked like popular stars but had a quality of emoting that rivaled Charlie McCarthy (or Mortimer Snerd) in emotion and delivery.
But I got a part!  Yes, indeedy!  I got to go on stage during the ball scene of The Sound of Music, standing there in a long, pink gown with a glass of ginger ale (looks like Champagne, don’t’cha know?), watching the various people whirling around the dance floor.  I was supposed to turn to Captain Von Trapp and say, with a cultured smile, ‘Frau Schraeder is charming, Georg!’
I felt pretty, I had a speaking part!  Captain Von Trapp was watching me with rapt attention, as was the entire cast.    I made my exit from the ball with my head high, my hair piled atop my head, my swan-like neck poised…
I shed my costume and went back to manhandling props and scenery flats, hissing cues to the performers.  It was all good!  And everyone was applauding and cheering – a standing ovation!  (College productions in college towns tend to garner such tributes.)
I smiled, sighed, helped clean up.
“Hey, Diana!”  It was the chief of the lighting crew, a lanky fellow with a marvelous grin.
I turned with my best Beauty Queen smile.  From the way he was looking at me, he found me fascinating.  …dared I say intriguingSexy?

He came up to me, set an arm around my shoulders.  “You were great!  It went off pretty good, if I say so!”  He tightened his hold for a moment.  “But, say!  Can you tell me…”

Bicycle Panties for under Stage Lighting
He paused, and I looked up at him, thinking that he really was pretty cute, the way his mouth began to quirk…

His eyes crinkled, “But say, do you always wear bicycles on your panties?”

Lights cut through chiffon.  How could I have forgotten? I crumpled in mortification.  No wonder everyone was gazing at me, transfixed, as I flirted with Captain Von Trapp!  A walking, talking bicycle-butt! 

My friends still mention them.  Well… They were my friends once…
Go visit the hop!