Super Bowl Sunday Song

Reblogged from Song of the Day by Chris Cates:

http://youtu.be/CG0Y_xIgRas

I decided to make a video and update my song called "Super Bowl Sunday". It's about eating and drinking anything you want on that special day each year and completing ignoring your household chores.

So when you're eating wings dipped in chocolate pudding during the game tonight, be sure to think of this video.

Well done. Well done! Thanks!

Super Bowl On CBS 1


cbs-logo

11:00 am EST – Road to the Super Bowl

2:00 pm – Super Bowl Today

6:00 pm EST – Super Bowl Kickoff

6:25 pm – Super Bowl XLVII

  Ravens Fight Song

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Sitcom Sendoff Reveals Series' True Colors

Reblogged from Thinking Out Loud:

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Maybe it was the fact it has been a most stressful week, or maybe it was watching online on the smaller screen, but either way, the finale of 30 Rock just didn't seem funny.

It reminded me somewhat of the last episode of Seinfeld, where the characters all end up on trial for violating a specific ordinance and yet equally on trial for the totality of their character.  

Read more… 287 more words

What a marvel is television.

What moved Jesus to comment on the widow's mite?

Reblogged from This Blogging Thing:

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The story of the widow's mite described in Mark 12:41-44 and Luke 21:1-4 is a fascinating and intriguing one. Most of us have heard or read this story more times than we can remember, yet most of us have missed the essential point--selflessness.

The big question, however, is: "What moved Jesus to comment on the Widow's Mite?" I am sure there were other poor widows in the Synagogue that day.

Read more… 450 more words

God bless us - one and all!

“A Poem for Superbowl Sunday” 2


The End of the Raven (s)

by Edgar Allen Poe’s Cat

On a night quite unenchanting, when the rain was downward slanting,
I awakened to the ranting of the man I catch mice for.
Tipsy and a bit unshaven, in a tone I found quite craven,
Poe was talking to a Raven perched above the chamber door.
“Raven’s very tasty,” thought I, as I tiptoed o’er the floor,
“There is nothing I like more.”

Soft upon the rug I treaded, calm and careful as I headed
Towards his roost atop that dreaded bust of Pallas I deplore.
While the bard and birdie chattered, I made sure that nothing clattered,
Creaked, or snapped, or fell, or shattered, as I crossed the corridor;
For his house is crammed with trinkets, curios and weird decor -
Bric-a-brac and junk galore.

Still the Raven never fluttered, standing stock-still as he uttered,
In a voice that shrieked and sputtered, his two cents worth -
Nevermore.”

While this dirge the birdbrain kept up, oh, so silently I crept up,
Then I crouched and quickly leapt up, pouncing on the feathered bore.
Soon he was a heap of plumage, and a little blood and gore -
Only this and not much more.

Then my pickled poet cried out, “Pussycat, it’s time I dried out!”
Never sat I in my hideout talking to a bird before;
How I’ve wallowed in self-pity, while my gallant, valiant kitty.
Put an end to that damned ditty – then I heard him start to snore.
Back atop the door I clambered, eyed that statue I abhor,
Jumped – and smashed it on the floor.

from Henry Beard‘s Poetry for Cats, ©1994

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Last Minute Food Ideas…Party Hardy!


GAME ON!

Score Big With Football Food

Score Big With Football Food

Let the good times roll with super snacks, dips, wings and more.

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