Chirky

After clambering through hundreds of masterfully constructed applications for the panel of dancing monkeys, I endured a grueling sixty days of interviewing self-important experts in sundry fields. A couple of these superstars even surprised me with their occupations, with such titles as professional armpit sniffers and apple de-wormers.

I belatedly chose three panelists, and we set to the task of choosing one Winner and one Runner-Up in the Ch'Agua contest.

So, without further ado (save the part where erase the same sentence four times in an effort to properly express to you how excited I am about the prizes, which come direct to you from me, courtesy of Martha Stewart's brain, or really, all her inventive employees that succeed at making Martha seem creative, because last night I drafted a list chock-full of gorgeous, hip gifts that I'll probably botch the first nine attempts of fabricating, but that will be absolutely scrumptious and will cause the winners to squeal with delight, which probably will be helped by the fact that both are female), the winners*:

"The OTHERS, from Lost."

My husband, Roger, and I stopped watching LOST mid-season One because there weren't enough consistently new shows for such impatient souls as ours. I distinctly remember a feeling of de ja vu while watching the first episode toward the end of the season, trying to convince Roger that, no, this isn't the first episode. Gah. Does he really not pay enough attention to this show to know that? It's just a flashback. Obviously, it was a never-ending flashback, also known as the First Episode, and after that night we resolved just to watch the DVDs. It saved both my sanity and our precious time that could be spent watching other TV shows.

"Composers of Latin American porno music.
As in: [Bow] Ch[icka]'aguuuuuuaaaaaaa.
They are always listening.
(Note their trademark, the yin-yang with the lightning bolt.)"

Note to Readers: My panel is in no way advocating porn, or even porno music, if such a thing exists. However, the armpit smellers were so enamored by Lawyerish's ability to burst into song that all the panelists joined in various renditions of the popular verse, jumping and gyrating to their own beat. That's not to say they all sounded particularly pleasing, or that they even gyrated well. Lawyerish's inspiration for free artistic expression is what finally won the hearts of the experts. It's also what propelled me to send them packing, because white people are notoriously bad dancers. Except me, obviously.


*If it takes me a similar amount of time to create and mail the gifts as it did to actually choose the winners of the gifts, you can expect the postman to come a knockin' around March 2010.

**Except, not this gift, however pretty-looking it may be. Because I have other things in mind. Just for (each of) you.