Anyone know a quick cure for a broken butt?

My music theory professor broke his coccyx doing the Hokey Pokey at either an ice rink or a roller rink. I didn't get all the details. On Monday class was cancelled. today another professor covered. This guy was so bad (he spent five minutes just playing all the A-flats on the piano and elaborating on what a beautiful tone A-flat is and how it is by far the most sonorous pitch in existence; imagine the "Twilight Zone" music here)  that three different students went to the department head and told them about a lady who covered class for the prof for one session(my mother, of course) who is really good and probably is available to teach the class. The department chair was able to get her contact info through accessing my records. My mother will be teaching the course for roughly the next two weeks.  The good thing is that the other students won't hate me because she's replacing a really bad instructor versus subbing in place of having no class at all. The bad news is the MY MOTHER is teaching my music theory class. If the original prof's tailbone isn't sufficiently recovered in two weeks, my mother's stint could be even longer. So if anyone knows any tips for expediting the healing of a fractured coccyx, please post them to me in the comments section, and I'll see that the prof gets them. We want his coccyx  in one solid peace ASAP.

"Fiddler on the Roof" is coming along, although a few characters are starting to scare me with their lack of knowledge of their lines. if I'm not even onstage, there's little I can do to sue them. What am I supposed to do? Run onstage impromptu and make up some reason I'm supposed to be there while I whisper their lines to them? They simply must learn their lines or we'll all loook like fools. Come to think of it, we may all look like fools, anyway? We're not exactly the most talented cast ever assembled. I can sing and dance, and i know my lines, but I'm not exactly Natalie Portman when it comes to acting. Others are pretty talented actors, but sing like my grandmother, which is not a compliment. We've got until the 29th of this month to pull it together.

Seven people in the cast have joined together to make a five hundred dollar bet with me that i can't recite the entire dialgue of the play, songs included, by March 28. It's a stupid bet on their part, as I could do it today . It's their money, and if they really want to throw it away, I can. We're still hammering out  the terms. I can misspeak as long as I correct myself.  we're hammering out how many conjunctions or prepositions I can mess up on. I think Five is a fair number. They think two. The director will be the final arbiter, although he says he doesn't really want any  part in illegal gambling.  We all have to agree on a really honest person to hold the money, because i don't trust that many people to each come up with their share. my guess is that halfway through my recitation, they'll get bored with listening to it and hand over the money. . could misspeak, but if i'm very areful, it should be easy money. My grandfather once paid me a hundred bucks for memorizing the entire LDS hymnal, both piano/organ music and words. I was eight, and a hundred dollars seemed like a whole lot to earn at that time. Now I'd insist on at least ten times as much. Furthermore, my brain is permanently clogged with words and music of LDS hymns. It's wasted brain space in my opinion. .Someday I'm going to need to remember something, and there won't be any room in my brain for it, because it will be filled with "If You Could hie to Kolob" and other literary and musical gems.

C'est la vie. I end my blogs with that phrase frequently. My dad tried to teach me French one summer. "C'est la vie" is one of the few things I remember. Also, I can ask someone why he or she did not eat lunch in the cafeteria today, or answer the same question.  It was such a valuable use of my dad's time.