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Fantastic word game

Redo, so you-know-who won't have a fit:

Holding their own is what some less popular band campers end up doing at the end of the band camp sock hop and ice cream social.

(Travel Tip: Washington DC Cherry Blossom Festival, March 28 to April 12. Check Ticketmaster to see if you can still get a seat in the grandstand for the Cherry Blossom Parade. Some hotels have Cherry Blossom Packages. Great get-away for the family.)
 
Ice cream social at band camp usually leans to the latter, as band campers exchange digits, calling cards, cd's and c.v.'s in an effort to secure their rightful place in one of the leading national college bands.

Historically, though, tuba players tend to stick more to the ice cream.
I guess tuba players do not have to network as hard as other band campers or something...
 
Leading national college bands send recruiters and scouts to our annual TFWG PowerWorld Summer Band Camp Open House every year as they search for the marching band superstars of tomorrow.
 
The marching band superstars of tomorrow are the former bandcampers who, in quad's words, held their own.



Cheerleaders holding their own cleavage is definitely something I wouldn't mind watching. I smell a new reality tv show. Time for PowerWorld to branch out again. ;D
 
Held their own is what Catholic band campers do BEFORE confession.

(Travel Tip: I have visited concentration camps while in Germany and Poland and while such visits are not everybody's idea of a perfect vacation moment, they are both instructive and inspirational. Unless, of course, you are standing next to another US citizen who takes one look around the one remaining barracks at Dachau and says, "Well, this doesn't look so bad.")
 
Confession gets a lot more interesting when the Priest hears from students returning from Band Camp but thankfully because of the sanctity of confession, those stories are never repeated. (Or so they hope)
 
Brutal band camp dangers include rolling around in the poison ivy, sunburn, homesickness, your family forgetting to pick you up, and accidentally walking in on the counselors' private confessional.
 
The counselors' private confessional is the annual cause of many other dangers, including band camp babies, ostracism, scorn, ridicule, derision, and the increase in sexting among band campers.
 
Musical instruments, particularly when artistically stacked, provide a nifty shelter when one needs band camp privacy for a private consultation with an artistically stacked band camper.
 
Seems things have come to a screeching halt. Could it be that we are all bandcamp-ed out? I know I am.



Artistically stacked band camper Pamela Anderson (not the real one, just a coincidence ;D ) went on to greater fame and fortune as the head lifeguard at the PowerWorld Beach and Boating Center.
 
WMC2006 said:
Artistically stacked band camper Pamela Anderson (not the real one, just a coincidence ;D ) went on to greater fame and fortune as the head lifeguard at the PowerWorld Beach and Boating Center.
Click to expand...

The PowerWorld Beach and Boating Center would be better served by someone who's got a LOT going on underneath... :)

(I have someone in mind... ;))
 
Underneath the PowerWorld Beach and Boating Center Fishing Pier, the rhythmic flow of the late evening surf collided with aging wood pilings as WMC sat in silence pondering the future of TFWG.
 
WMC sat in silence pondering the future of TFWG until he was interrupted by a beautiful mermaid who tried to lure him to the sea.


A guy can dream, can't he? ;) And, dmargalotti, your post was almost poetic-like. Have you been reading Mrs dmargalotti's romantic novels lately or something? ;D
 
Went beyond the bounds of good taste and had a terrific time. Wish you were here.

(The text of a post card sent from band camp that went astray and ended up in the dead letter box.)
 
"Wish you were here" muttered WMC to no one in particular as he sat alone on the beach under the watchful eye of a full moon wishing his beloved Anyacat could be with him that night.
 
That night, oh what a night,
Late December back in '63.
What a very special time for me,
'Cause I remember what a night.

(with apologies to Frankie Valli)
 


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