Making a Snowball after the Snow has Melted

S: Well, Denver, I think we may have gotten a little carried away.

D: Exactly what are you referring too, Sparks?

S: I'm talking about this Best/Most/-iest Contest.

D: Are you trying to refer to our Best of Sparky's Contest?

S: I didn't realize we had come up with a name for it.

D: There are a lot of things you don't realize. (Mostly he misses things because he sleeps through them.)

S: Hey! I resemble that remark!

D: So what's the problem with the contest?

S: We may have thought up a few too many categories.

D: Like how many?

S: Last count I think we were hovering around 50.

D: Tara is going to kill you.

S: Me? We're in this together, Tonto.

D: Well we certainly aren't going to be able to celebrate them all in February.

S: Nope. I think it may take a few months.

D: So we're having a contest with no set end date?

S: I don't think people (and by people, I mean dogs) will mind. This way we get to honor more of our friends.

D: Okay, but you have to answer to Tara.

S: I'll just cut my big, brown eyes at her and cock my head. Works every time.

D: So there it is, folks. A contest. Undetermined number of categories, undetermined number of winners, undetermined length. Basically, we don't have a clue what we're doing.