BRAINPAN LEAKAGE

Literally.

Why would I lie about something like that?

… And yes, I do realize that right now you are all sitting there chanting, “Murv’s gonna get it… Murv’s gonna get it…”

Normally, I would agree with you, but go back to the beginning and read again what I wrote… I’m fairly certain I typed in the word, literally. As in, E K is a literal pain in my ass. Not figurative. Not metaphorical. Nope. None of that dancing about and implied torture. No husbandly lamenting about a wife’s wifeliness. We are talking about the real deal here…

I mean to say, the woman literally caused pain and physical damage to my Gluteus Maximus.

Uh-huh… I know… Now all of you are sitting there saying, “So what? You’re talking about E K. Since you say she’s so evil then she probably just tied you up and spanked you or something like that. Big deal. Just roll with it you big baby.” (On that note – The cartoon on the right is just for you “perverted types,” BTW… )

Well, though it is apparently titillating for all of you to imagine such a scenario, otherwise you probably wouldn’t be imagining it… Hey…. Hey! Yeah, you. Stop staring at the cartoon and pay attention.

Okay… so where was I? Oh yeah… As I was saying, such graphic details might be a little too much info for a relatively PG rated blog like Brainpan Leakage… And, for the record, I am now firmly convinced that y’all have dirtier minds than I do… Especially you… Yeah, you in the back row. The one that keeps staring and drooling at the cartoon… It’s a friggin’  PG rated cartoon for Gods sake… Sheesh… For shame… For shame…

So, anyway, let’s set the record straight right here and now… E K did not spank me. Well… Not in this particular case anyway. (There, did that little bit of innuendo satisfy your prurient curiosity, or just pique it? Yeah… I thought as much, ya’ bunch of sickos… When you’re all done drooling over the silly cartoon, we can continue…)

(Jeopardy thinking music)

Okay, are we all done? Finally… Good…

So now that we’ve dispensed with the mental foreplay, we’ll move on already…

We’ve established that no spankings were had. The simple fact is that this is an entirely different kind of literal pain in the ass. And, it is also one that reaches far back into history. So, since the whole nostalgia approach of the “marriage blog” mini-series seemed to go over so well, I figured y’all might like to hear this story too. So, let’s all jump into the wayback machine and have a look at this particular, and annoyingly painful, slice of my past… (Yeah, you too… Yeah you… I don’t care… You can page back up and look at the cartoon again when we’ve finished the story… Sheesh… You don’t get out much, do you?)

Okay… On with the sordid tale…

The year was nineteen and eighty six…  E K and I had met by this point, and were more or less in the midst of doing that coy, flirty thing that accompanies the first three months of dating. You know what I mean…

For men it’s crap like: Getting a haircut. Making sure your shirt isn’t wrinkled. Actually tying your necktie in a Full Windsor instead of a Half, but only after making doubly sure it actually matches your shirt and slacks. Using aftershave and maybe even a bit of cologne… Holding your farts in until you are in the next county and downwind so that the object of your affection will never know…

For women it’s crap like: Shaving your legs regularly. Wearing a shorter skirt and higher heels than you normally would on your average workday.  A push up bra. Fancy jewelry… Holding your farts in until you are in the next county and downwind so that the object of your affection will never know…

Y’all know the drill… Typical, flirty – datey stuff.

On the particular day in question, E K arrived at our place of employment, all decked out in a nice blouse, blazer, shape hugging slacks, and the high heels that were a bit too high for your average work day… The pumps were a dead giveaway that she was being flirty, because:

1. She had service calls to take and was going to be on her feet, digging around behind printers, kneeling, bending over, and all of the other gyrations that come along with taking a service call. (For the record, it’s actually pretty good exercise.)
2. She had VERY RECENTLY uncovered my particular affinity for shapely female legs and high heels. (It bears mentioning that being the absolutely brilliant femme fatale she is, The Evil Redhead has used this information to her benefit on countless occasions, ever since making the discovery.)

The only thing missing from the overall package was the shorter than normal skirt, but see #1. She had to compromise somewhere along the line, and like I said, the slacks were definitely figure flattering…

Okay… I need some alone time now…

Just kidding. Well, not really, but I have too much to do and I need to finish this story…

In keeping with the flirty stuff, E K had some tasteful jewelry on to accentuate here and there. Of course, being incredibly practical as well, one of the jewelry items was a fancy little diskette lapel pin. I mean, after all, she’s a technician, so she needed to have herself some technician jewelry, right? And, yes, the picture here is of the actual pin in question. As amazing as it may seem, she still has it after all these years. Granted, it may look a bit odd to you youngsters who have never seen a 5 1/4 inch floppy diskette in real life, but that is exactly what it was patterned after. BTW, Sorcim / IUS was a software company. They were the “publisher” of a widely used, DOS Based program called SuperCalc. If I remember correctly, the lapel pin itself was a gimme type perk she received for attending a Sorcim seminar.

So, anyway, enough rambling on about ancient technology being transformed into jewelry. Let’s get back to this particular day in history…

E Kay’s truck… Yes, my dear and lovely used to drive a truck…  Anyway, her truck was going to be in the shop for some routine maintenance, which effectively left her without wheels, but she still needed to take service calls. Unfortunately, the outfit we were working for at the time, TC Service, didn’t have company vehicles for us to use. So, in order that my lovely be able to take her scheduled service calls, I loaned her my car. As it happened, said vehicle was the Mustang LX I was desperately trying to pay off… Yeah, that’s one of those, “another stories,” but if you read the “Mahwage” series of entries, you know what I mean.

So, after a bit of flirting and lustful stirrings brought about by E K in high heels purposely reaching for things behind her desk while standing in front of it, if you know what I’m saying, I sent her on the road with parts, tools, and my car. After that, the day continued in a relatively uneventful fashion. I configured a few Leading Edge PC’s, fixed a printer or two, answered some tech support calls… The usual crap… The Evil One completed her service calls and returned, both she and my car completely unscathed. Life was good.

As it happened, that evening was filled with “other obligations,” so E K and I were not going to be able to spend it together. Not exactly the best situation, given the fact that she had purposely lit my fuse, so to speak, but hey, stuff happens. Of course, we did the flirty-flirty thing through the afternoon, and retrieved her truck from the shop, then when quitting time rolled around, stole a few kisses before going our separate directions for the evening.

I hopped into my car, and at a point somewhere around halfway home, I felt a very sudden, very sharp, very intense pain in my right butt cheek. If I remember correctly, I even let out a yelp.  It was reminiscent of being nailed by a bee. Since it happened to be late summer, I assumed this was a real possibility.  Something else I considered was a cherry from a cigarette. At the time I was a smoker, so I had to wonder if I had inadvertently knocked the fire from the end of a smoke while shifting gears or some such.

Well, of course, I reached down and felt about in the seat while hiking myself up onto my left hip and dancing around in a circle, all while trying to keep the car in between the dashed lines dividing the lanes on I-170. However, no matter how much feeling about in the seat, or on my own ass I did, I found nothing.

Still, the pain continued.

Well… I have to admit, I have a fairly high pain tolerance. I’m not at all sure from whence it originates, but I can actually take a lot of abuse… Just ask E K… But, let’s not go there again… Seriously, though, I really do have a fairly high tolerance for pain, so since I couldn’t find the source I decided my best bet was to just ignore it. Besides, at this point, the initial shock of the pain was fading and it had settled down to a dull ache. The ache was making its way into the background as well, so I figured I’d be all good. Eventually, it would just go away.

And it did. For the most part, anyway. I mean, there remained a minor ache and soreness throughout the rest of the evening, but nothing anywhere near as intense as the initial stab of pain.

Life rocked on, I met my various obligations, and even had a quick chat or two with E K on the phone, just because I couldn’t stand to be away from her for more than an hour at a stretch unless I was unconscious. The evening grew late and eventually it was time to hit the sack. Following my regular routine, I emptied my pockets, then started getting undressed so I could go to bed. About the time I undid my pants and went to pull them off, I discovered that they seemed to be hung up somewhere around the right side of my ass. As in, they wouldn’t come off. At about the exact instant I started to tug on them a bit, the pain that had earlier ravaged my butt cheek exploded forth once more.

Now I was hopping about on one leg, cussing, and about to trip over my half-removed britches. Fearing that I was going to perform a flawless face plant on the floor, I twisted around and perched myself on the corner of my waterbed side rails, and rolled up onto my left hip. Reaching back and feeling around, through the fabric of the pants, my fingers now came into contact with a small lump on my rear, right about where my wallet had been residing earlier. Perplexed, I slipped my hand into my hip pocket and felt around some more. Within seconds I had hold of the offending object and pulled, much like the whole mouse yanking the thorn out of the lion’s paw scenario. Except, it was just me doing the yanking, and the paw in this case was my ass.

When I brought my hand up into the light, besides a bit of blood, I also found a gold, diskette shaped, lapel pin pinched between my fingers.

The next morning, when E K strolled into work, I waited for her to park herself at her desk, which was nearby and facing mine. After exchanging some flirty good mornings, I raised an eyebrow and asked, “So, were you trying to make sure I didn’t forget you last night?”

She furrowed her brow and cocked her head to the side. “What do you mean?”

I pushed back from my desk, stood, took the few steps in her direction, and then dropped the lapel pin on the desk blotter in front of her.

“Oh, I was wondering where I lost that!” she exclaimed. “Where did you find it?”

I shook my head. “You probably don’t want to know.”

I did eventually tell her, of course. A few minutes later, in fact. However, looking back on it now, that was probably a mistake in and of itself. You see,  it was at that point in our relationship that she became aware of my higher than normal tolerance for pain, and she has been trying to find my breaking point ever since…

But seriously… All joking and silliness aside, I think you can now see why I can truthfully say that, “E K is a real pain in my ass…”

More to come…

Murv

Well folks, it would seem I have been tagged, gagged, bagged, and slagged… And, for once, it wasn’t E K doling it out. Actually, what I am trying to say is that it seems I have had a Blog Award bestowed upon me while I wasn’t looking. The award came from one Jodi Lee, an absolutely wonderful gal who is a book reviewer, blogger, and editor. In fact, she is also the twisted mind responsible for “Courting Morpheus,” the horror anthology for which I wrote an RGI based short.  (Rumor is there is some news about CM coming up soon. Stay tuned…)

So anyway, on with the award thing. It seems that the Honest [S]crap Blog Award is a take one and pass it along type of thing, and recipients are compelled to adhere to a set of rules. Those guidelines are as follows:

The Award and Rules:

This award is bestowed upon a fellow blogger whose blog content or design is, in the giver’s opinion, brilliant.

Apparently the rules are as follows:

1. When accepting this auspicious award, you must write a post bragging about it, including the name of the misguided soul who thinks you deserve such acclaim, and link back to the said person so everyone knows she/he is real.

2. Choose a minimum of 5 blogs that you find brilliant in content or design. Or improvise by including bloggers who have no idea who you are because you don’t have seven friends. Show the seven random victims’ names and links and leave a harassing comment informing them that they were prized with Honest Weblog. Well, there’s no prize, but they can keep the nifty icon.

(There wasn’t an icon, but I think this is the same one that ‘Rhada McKai’ did a while back, so I’m snagging it…lol.)

(Note from Murv – I’m not entirely clear on the 5 vs 7 thing, so I am going to go with 5)

3. List at least ten (10) honest things about yourself. Then pass it on!

And so, I have my award… As you can see, it is now proudly displayed in the Award Box in the lower portion of the sidebar… I’m misting up now… I really feel special and stuff… (sniff sniff) …

But, that’s enough with all of that emotional garbage… Time for me to stick to the rules… (This will be hard to do without E K here to enforce discipline and all, but I’m going to give it my best shot…)

Them What I Thinks Deserves This Award Too…

Well, since Jodi is the one who gave it to me, I can’t exactly return it or she’ll think I didn’t like it… Besides, she might not have kept the receipt… So, I have to smack some other folks in the head.

Dorothy Morrison (Wicked Wonderings) – Dorothy is more or less the big sister I never had. A prolific author of Pagan Non-Fiction, her first novel recently hit the shelves. We have toured together for years, seen each other at our best, seen each other at our worst, and even been deathly ill together. Pretty much like being married, but without the good part. Either way, she rants and raves like a crazy person in her blog, so it’s well worth a look. Just don’t stare at it too long or you’ll start having a taste for flies…

Kristin “Don’t Call Me Kirstin” Madden (Words From The Wild) – Kristin is another author with whom I have toured. She is pretty much like a younger sister. I actually already have one of those, but I adopted Kristin anyway. She seemed so lost without guidance that I just felt sorry for her. My bad… Ever since she and Morrison hooked up, my life has been hell… That’s what I get for being the middle child, I suppose. At any rate, her blog is often humorous and almost always ultra-interesting, as she also happens to be a Wildlife Biologist specializing in Avian Rehab…

Cherie Priest – I figure Cherie has absolutely no clue who I am, therefore having this award bestowed upon her by me is probably going to come as an utter shock, and/or elicit one of those classic expressions. However, the simple fact is that Cherie is not only a fellow author, but a downright humorous blogger. Many of her posts are replete with observational, satirical, “here’s your sign you moron” humor. More than worth the read.

Lorna Tedder (The Spiritual Eclectic) – Lorna is another good friend and author. While we haven’t actually “toured” together, we have done appearances together at the same events. Truth is, I think Lorna just might be Evil… As in Evil Kat kind of Evil… Which means, if I were to ever tour with her, Madden, and Morrison together, I would either end up in a funny farm or body bag. But, hey, what are friends for, right? Her blog is full of all kinds of goodies for the spiritual day to day.

Bitten By Books (Rachel) – Bitten By Books is probably the premiere Paranormal Genre Book Review website going today. Rachel goes out of her way to keep the site fresh and interesting with everything from new reviews to author interviews/chats and contests complete with killer prizes. If you are an avid reader of such literature, you owe it to yourself to drop by BBB and have a look.

10 Honest Crap Things About Me…

1. I honestly have no idea what to say here. I tell so much honest crap about myself in my blog to begin with that I’m not sure I have anything new to add.
2. I’m a fat guy. I struggle with my weight constantly. I have ever since around age 10 when I suddenly went from skinny as a beanpole to being a tiny little Goodyear blimp. I try to get exercise on a regular basis, although I miss a day or two here and there, and I don’t generally overeat. I’m just a fat guy.
3. I am unnaturally head over heels in love with my wife. ‘Nuff said. If I expand any further I will descend into blithering idiot speak and maybe even embarrass myself.
4. Everyone has a paraphilia, whether they admit it or not. Mine is stiletto heels. Not wearing them you dolt. Seeing my wife wearing them. I won’t expand any further. Again, blithering, embarrassment, et al.
5. I can be a real nerd sometimes.
6. I simply cannot stand Rap / Hip-Hop music. I don’t actually consider it music. I am more than happy to admit that I consider it an art form in its own right, but art is subjective, like it or not. And, when it comes to this particular art, not is the operative word where I am concerned.
7. I am horrible with names. I can most often remember minute details about a situation, or even pick up latent mannerisms or expressions on a person, and store them away in the old grey matter for what seems an eternity. But, if you ask me to remember someone’s name (unless I am around them on a regular basis, of course) I will just give you one of these –
8. I like black jellybeans. They are my favorite. I also like just plain old black licorice.
9. I’ve been told that my eyes are brown because I am full of shit. Sometimes I am inclined to agree.
10. For years, I used ace bandages and tape to hide the fact that I suffered from Asymmetrical Gynecomastia. When I was finally able to afford the corrective surgery, I had it. I feel much better about myself now.

Okay… I think all that’s left now is for me to go notify these other poor souls that I am passing the baton on to them… For the record, I think Morrison will ignore it, Madden will probably blog about it, Ms. Priest will say “WTF?” since she has no clue who I am, Lorna will make arrangements with E K to either hurt me, or have me hurt by proxy, and Rachel over at BBB will think it’s cool. Whether or not she will have time to do anything with it is another story entirely.

Regularly scheduled blogs return tomorrow morning.

More to come…

Murv