BRAINPAN LEAKAGE

Elizabeth Taylor ain’t got nothin’ on the Evil Redhead…

Seriously.

E K is way hotter than E T ever was, and way more evil.  By several orders of magnitude on both accounts… And, she’s really a Kat. So there…

Yeah, so obviously this is a bit of a play on words and all, but since I’ve also been babbling in my status updates about helping Scuba with a roof job he has, I thought perhaps I’d give y’all a bit more info.

Especially since I’ve only recently discovered the fact that E K didn’t leave her evilness on the ground when she went up that ladder…

Day 1 – Tearoff…

I didn’t arrive at the site of the roofing job until late morning because there was a furnace issue at Hell House I had to address. By the time I made it to the roof, tearoff was in full swing. Here you can see her supreme evilness shoveling old shingles in the direction of the dumpster below (out of frame)… I later found out that she was covering up the bodies of those who had been in her way while doing the tearoff. It seems she would simply lure them to the edge of the roof, then hit them in the back of the head with the shovel and push them off into the dumpster. Then, like a cat in a litter box, used the old shingles to cover up the… Well, you get the idea.

BTW, the reasons you will see no pictures of me on the roof –

1. Due to a severely injured foot (long story) E K forbade me from being up there lest I fall off and kill myself. At first I thought this was kind of heartwarming, but she later told me that she simply didn’t have time to break in a new lackey.
2. I was afraid E K would hit ME in the back of the head with a shovel and push me off into the dumpster. I mean, you never know…

Here we have a shot of the Dewalt Boom Box / Battery Charger that goes everywhere Scuba goes. Much grumbling came from the kids on the crew – those E K hadn’t yet pushed off into the dumpster, anyway – because all of us old farts had the toonage set to classic rock from our era.  And, of course, there you have the redheaded roof mistress on the right…

This is a picture of what we on the ground (working cleanup and cut crew) thought was E K helping Scuba with the shingles. Of course, we later found out she was threatening to hit him with a shovel if he didn’t get on the ball. What a slave driver she is…

Here is the Evil Redhead once again. Turns out that this time she was threatening to kick the ladder over if Scuba didn’t hurry up and move faster…

Okay, okay… So, she didn’t really push anyone into the dumpster and she didn’t threaten to kick over the ladder. However, she still didn’t check her dominant self at the door.

During the job, on several occasions Scuba would say, “I’m done. Let’s call it a day,” whereupon he would find something else to do and start in on it. After the fourth or fifth time he did this, E K put her hands on her hips and announced, “Steve, you’re done! Get down off the roof. NOW!”

Yep, he did what she told him to do. Even Scuba knows it’s best to obey the Evil Redhead… Besides, she still had a shovel up there with her and there was room in the dumpster.

More to come…

Murv

Usually when you find me talking about SPAM, I’m babbling (and drooling) about my favorite pressed, canned, pork leavin’s. That lovely ham-like, mystery protein that can be found in any market, lasts a little bit of forever, and is considered a near delicacy in Howarya (Hawaii).

I’ve never really had a desire to visit that little cluster of islands, to be honest, however, I do happen to like pineapple, coconut, and SPAM, so maybe I should give it a go sometime…

But, I digress…

This particular time I am not here to drool about food. I’m actually going to talk about what everyone under the age of 30 thinks of when they hear the word SPAM… Yes. Unwanted email solicitations from somewhere out in the ether.

Having spent many years as an Internet Systems Admin for an ISP, I am intimately familiar with the electronic version of SPAM. Of course, even if I hadn’t had such a job I’d still be familiar with the stuff because anyone with an email account is deluged with it daily. SPAM filters try their best to weed it out, but the crafty little beggars behind SPAM weasel their way around the virtual assassins whenever possible.

Now, the thing is I can actually understand SPAM to some extent. It’s just like junk mail that shows up in your mailbox in front of your house. Stuff addressed to Resident, or Occupant… You know, the things you give to the 4 year old who is desperate to receive some mail just like mommy and daddy. The thing about said SPAM/Junk Mail, however, is that it has an overarching purpose. It is trying to sell you something.

Siding…

Windows…

A really bitchin’ set of shelf speakers…

An amazing device that when attached to an average canister vacuum will ionize (or deionize, whichever is necessary) the air in your home automatically, making it smell springtime fresh and adding 10 years to your life…

Know what I mean? It gives you a sales pitch, pretty pictures, and an order blank… Sometimes even a coupon for 50% off on orders of two or more.

Over the years, the electronic cousin of Junk Mail, that being SPAM, has done the same thing, albeit for different products. In the case of email junk I am usually getting an offer for a Russian Bride, a breast enlargement, Acai Berry Juice, or Generic Viagra.

Annoying, yes. I mean, after all, E K would kill me if I brought home a Russian Bride (not to mention the bigamy consequences)…

I don’t need a breast enlargement – (hell, I had gynecomastia reduction surgery a few years ago, so why would I want to reverse it? I’m not made of money, ya’know, and besides, it hurt like hell… And not the good kind of hurt either if you know what I mean – wink wink nudge nudge- Even E K felt sorry for me.)

I can get Acai Berry at the supermarket. It even comes mixed with Apple Sauce – how cool is that? AND, I have coupons…

Finally, Wee Willie Winky has no trouble saluting whenever instructed to do so by the Evil Redhead. At least, at this point in my life he doesn’t. E K sees to that, thank you very much… But, if I end up needing the little blue pill later down the road, I will consult my physician and go see my local pharmacist.

Still, as annoying as it is, it all makes sense. Color pictures, provocative wording, and even coupons… It’s a sales tactic… It’s direct marketing.

I get it… Really, I do.

Or I did, up until just the other day. I think maybe this has something to do with the SPAMmers tactics in order to get around the filters, but here’s the thing – if the SPAM doesn’t make any sense, what good is it?

For example, the particular email that showed up in my inbox the other day and proceeded to spark this particular missive is as follows:

Subject:  AAA Christian sex Premature Ejaculation Cure

Body:  A Christian sex Premature Ejaculation Cukrre www. via65. com.
When Aliens tAtack Pormotional Trailer

This was followed by another email:

Subject:  Female Orgasms From a Woman - 11 Thing She Does When You
Are Not Lookiing

Body:  Female Orgasms From a Woman -- 1 Thilng She Does When You
Are Not Looking
www. via65. com. Woman Trying to Cheecat on Drug Test Asks Clerk to
Microwave Prosthetic penis Device

Can any of you tell me what I’m supposed to be buying here? I mean, I sure as hell have no clue…

Oh well, I guess it’s just one of those things, and I’ll just have to accept it.

Besides, I’m already late for my Christian Drug Test at the theater where they are showing the promotional trailer for the new Alien Attack movie, and I still have to microwave my prosthetic penis device, otherwise I won’t be able to prematurely ejaculate on the cheat sheet when the clerk isn’t looking.

You know… I think I’ll go make myself a Spam Sammich…

More to come…

Murv