Prizes for the Prize

Surely you've heard of sweets for the sweet. Well, my Sweet (unrelated reference) Baboo has the same policy, only he seems to think the expression is prizes for the prize. Okay. He doesn't really. But I DO consider myself a prize. And Hick DID text me last week that he was bringing me home a prize from the auction. In his case, he really meant a surprise. But he shortens things like that.

For days I heard nothing else about my prize! Nada. If loose lips sink ships, the entire fleet of every navy on earth was bobbing above the water line. I refused to ask about my prize. I figured Hick would get around to gifting me when he was ready. Or when he remembered to unload his car.

Mid-week, I woke up to find my prize sitting on the kitchen counter. Let's just say I certainly WAS surprised! I moved it to the back porch for a photo session, where the rustic setting enhances the beauty of my prize.

It's a LEATHER STEIN, by cracky! That I can use to hoist my beers. Except I don't drink beers any more, being a reformed teetotaler since before Genius was born.

I'm pretty sure you've all gone past the leather stein already, and are curious about what's inside. At first, I thought it might be Billy Beer. Hick collects beer memorabilia, you know. But upon removal from the leather stein (I just can't type that phrase enough), I saw that it was not.

It's a can of CLINTON COLA! Can you read it? ONE TASTE TO COME BACK 4 MORE. Heh, heh. That's My Man Bill's picture on the front. Now don't anybody get all political on me. I'm not making a political statement at all. I've always enjoyed Bill Clinton. I don't care how many women he did not have sex with, or how many people associated with him suffered unfortunate, untimely, questionable deaths. He's MY MAN BILL, by cracky! I even like the John Travolta version of him in Primary Colors.

But there's MORE detail that I can't skim over, even while giddy at the though of MY MAN BILL sitting on my back porch railing.

Did you notice that my leather stein is embossed in gold, with POOR MAN'S STEIN? And has an engraved metal nameplate with RON on it?

I pointed out to Hick that I liked my prize, but that I'm not poor, I'm not a man, and my name is not Ron.

"I know that. I bought it for the soda. I know you like Bill Clinton."

Not sure what I'm going to do with my prize. Maybe Hick will build me a themed shed for it.