BRAINPAN LEAKAGE

Continued from Lolly, Lolly, Lolly…

See previous notes. If you are joining this party late, go back and read the other three because we aren’t going to explain ourselves… Mostly because we can’t. We just don’t have a satisfactory explanation for all of this, so please bear with us…

Thai Pizza... NOM!

So… The pizza people finally got around to feeding me. All good. We had a laugh, I cowered on my side of the table hiding from “Bouncy Brandi” as her husband tried to run interference for me  and everyone was happy. (Gotta love Mike – I have no idea how he does it on a daily basis… That much perky all in one place would kill me within a week.)

(BTW – I was mugging it for the camera – on request – for the pizza picture. I really do have better table manners than that…)

Sunday… Last day of OstaraFest. Fans from all over had ponied up cash for raffle tickets. But not just ANY RAFFLE tickets. These were for a special event, jokingly named “FEED MURV.” Four lucky (or unlucky as the case may be) winners received a catered lunch with yours truly. Honestly, I think they were buying the tickets in hopes of winning the food, and I was just sort of a nuisance they would have to deal with in order to get the chow. Fortunately, those who won had the constitution to put up with having said lunch with me at the table too.

At any rate, this was a very cool thing because not only did we get a nice lunch and 90 minutes to sit and visit, the proceeds (minus costs) from the sale of the raffle tickets went to a local no-kill animal shelter – and I’m all about that sort of thing.

But moving right along – I arrived at the VFW hall, entering in serpentine fashion as I attempted to dodge “Bouncy Brandi,” who today was all decked out in a skirt and her hooker shoes. Seems that $750 was getting spent whether I wanted it to or not. But we’ll talk about that in a minute…

As soon as I arrived, the emcee was announcing that the “FEED MURV” luncheon was being delayed by 15 minutes. Why? Because Olive Garden – the restaurant providing the meals – had neglected to prepare MY lunch.

Yes.

Srsly.

Feed Murv Luncheon - Carolynn, one of the winners, is responsible for the pic so she's behind the camera...

Me. Murv. The guy who Texas refuses to feed was once again sans food. And, once again, Joyce proceeded to launch an offensive upon the establishment. In the end, they took a chunk of change off the bill, AND provided all of us luncheon folk with free Tiramisu. (That was some damn good Tiramisu, I’m here to tell you.) And one of the really cool things about the discount on the food was that it meant EVEN MORE proceeds to the animal shelter – WOOHOO!!!

So, see what I mean? Texas has got it in for me. Left up to the lone star state, I would go hungry until my spare tire disappeared… Hmmm… You know, maybe I should go spend some more time there…

Now, before you get all antsy I didn’t forget that I promised you a conclusion to the whole $750.00 thing. For that, we pretty much leap right back to that first day, during the Saint Patrick’s Day dinner at Butch and Joyce’s place.

You see, that phone call Joyce received was from Cammie. She was closing the store and had done the batch run on the credit card machine. Problem is, it was off against the drawer. Not just a little off either. It was off by $675.00.

What does that have to do with $750.00? Well, you see, the store is the sponsor and organizer of OstaraFest, therefore payments for things like vendor tables, tickets, etc can go through there. A one day vendor table space was $75.00. Make note – Seventy-five dollars. Not Seven-hundred fifty dollars. And guess who was responsible for ringing up a $75.00 vendor ticket with a couple of extra zeros? Yep… “Bouncy Brandi.”

In the end, although the batch job had already been run, which made things slightly more complicated, the issue was fixed. However, this didn’t mean we weren’t going to razz Brandi about it – or that we aren’t going to razz her about it until the end of time. Why? Because we’re like that. It’s a moral imperative.

Yeah. I know. Not really as exciting as you were expecting, right? See why I started out with a whole lap dance sort of scenario? We call that “literary license” in my business…

“Yes, Murv,” you say. “But what’s all this stuff about hooker shoes? Is that just another bit of fiction from your warped brain too?”

Evil Women vs. The Author

Well… Yes and no. The hooker shoes were high heels, but they were more like “not really hooker shoes” and they did exist. And Brandi did bring them on Sunday. And Brandi did wear them. And what’s more, Michele brought her high-heeled, “not really hooker shoes” and wore them too.

Why?

Because they are fans of the RGI series, and moreover, fans of the Miranda Saga. Actually, I think they are just fans of Miranda, but who am I to say? At any rate, like many ladies in the past who have been impressed, tantalized, excited, wowed, and otherwise inspired by “Miranda,” the dominatrix serial-killer from the series, they were all up for a photo op. (Other Miranda Fans) Of course, them being all UP for a photo op meant Murv got to be all DOWN for a photo op – as in on the floor. But, ya’know, I don’t mind at all. They had fun, the crowd enjoyed it, and yeah… I had fun too. (Largely because I got to lay down and rest for a few minutes…) Besides, Evil Kat stomps on me way harder, and way longer than they did, and with spikier heels…

And so, there you have it – Brandi and Michele got a $750 dollar picture.

Rumor has it I just might be invited back to OstaraFest next year. Something tells me I’ll have to deal with The Girl, The Shoes, And The $750 all over again… Ya’know, they have flu shots to keep you from getting ill. I wonder if there’s such a thing as a Perky Shot? (Just kidding, Brandi… Besides, it’d probably cost $750…)

More to come…

Murv

Well, no… Not really. But, you know how I am. If there’s a song out there I can reference – from my era, anyway – I am likely to do so…

So… Anyway… About this whole “Turning Japanese” thing…

A few weeks back the Missouri Botanical Garden, sometimes called Shaw’s Garden – (After Henry Shaw, the man who created the garden and donated the property upon which is resides) – but these days affectionately referred to as MoBot… Not to be confused with MoDoT (Missouri Department of Transportation)… hosted its annual “Japanese Festival.”

Basically, the garden showcases native Japanese plants, flowers, sculptures, music, culture, food, and the whole nine yards. This is something they have been doing for a little slice of forever. Just to give you a frame of reference, back when the Evil Redhead and I were merely dating – not even cohabitating yet – we spent a Saturday at MoBot for the Japanese Fest. It was a great time… We walked around, looked at flowers, drank a couple of Kirins, gnawed on some Teryaki (Yeah, they say traditional Japanese food, but let’s face it – it’s Japanese American food), and lounged on the grass while listening to the syncopated pop jazz stylings of the band, Hiroshima. We even did silly stuff like holding hands and stealing kisses while in the shadows of the Japanese Maple trees… You know, that stuff you do when you are young and in lust…

So, anyway, that tells you right there that this event is better than 20 years old, so it’s been around for a while…

And, since we are on the nostalgia portion of this missive, the above description is pretty much what you saw back then. Maybe… And I do mean maybe… you saw a few (very few) folks in traditional kimonos and the like, and they were most definitely in the employ of the Garden. But generally, it was just folks walking around enjoying the flowers and ambience. (BTW – The picture on the right is from this recent trip. I was much prettier when I was younger. E K, of course, was smoking hot when she was younger, and is now so smoking hot as to burn out the elements in the digital camera’s CCD because she just keeps getting prettier and prettier every single day…)

Several years have passed – obviously – and while I have attended the festival on a variety of occasions since the days of Evil Redhead Courtship, 2009 was the first time in several years since I’ve actually NOT been on tour during the fest. So, we went. E K, the O-spring, and yours truly…

My how times have changed…

Before we ever made it into MoBot proper, I was confronted by 37 twenty-something girls in Sailor Moon outfits. At first I thought they were an actual group of Japanese school children visiting as a part of the cultural aspect of the fest. However, upon closer inspection – not, you know, really close inspection… I’m NOT that kind of a perv ya’know – it became apparent that I was actually dealing with a whole raft of Caucasian, midwestern, late-teen to early-twenty-somethings in schoolgirl costumes and wigs.

Okay… Fair enough. Anime is kind of a big thing, so I figured they were hired to be some manner of hostesses or something. Although, I have to admit, the blue, lemon yellow, and magenta hair scared me a bit.

But then I ended up in line behind them as they bought tickets. So… Obviously they didn’t work there. They were just… Well… fond of dressing up like cartoon schoolgirls I guess…

Then I turned around… Coming at me, flanked by a Sailor Moon knockoff and a Goth Lolita, was a Dalek. Now, some of you may not know what a Dalek is. Well, by way of explanation, it’s an evil robot from a British Sci-Fi TV show called Doctor Who. It basically looks like a giant salt shaker on wheels carrying a plunger, but it’s definitely not out to unplug your toilet. It pretty much runs around screaming in a mechanical voice, “EXTERMINATE! EXTERMINATE!”

Think low budget, salt shaker shaped terminators.

So, anyway, I kind of understood the anime thing, but now I was truly confused. What was a robot from a British SF series doing at the Japanese Festival.

I took out my cell phone and texted my good friend Anastasia – “I’m surrounded by Sailor Moons, Samurai’s with Superman Capes and Playboy Bunny ears, and Lolitas”

A moment later she texted back. “Bring me one home with you.”

That’s Anastasia for you. Always with the unexpected comebacks.

I texted her again. “There’s a Dalek too.”

I waited. Before long my phone chimed, gave a little shimmy, and I looked at the screen. “A Dalek? WTF?”

Those were my sentiments exactly.

We continued around the garden, enjoying the scenery – and I mean the flora and fauna type scenery here – as we attempted to escape the Sci-Fi/Fantasy/Anime convention that had crashed into the festival.

Around the corner we went and I ran smack dab into one of those Oxymoron’s from that commercial – An Asian Scottish Schoolgirl in a corset, tartan mini-kilt-skirt thing, knee socks, heels, a cape, dog ears on a headband, and she was carrying a wooden sword.

I screamed.

She rolled her eyes.

I went the opposite direction as fast as I could.

Eventually we made the circuit. The O-spring went inside the children’s activities area with E K so she could do some arts and crafts. She’s all about that kind of stuff. Me, I sat outside, drank my water, and watched an ice sculpture melting in the bright sun while John Belushi clones tried to do the old Samurai Night Fever routine from SNL (Back when SNL was worth watching.) Some incredibly orange hair walked by and I averted my eyes before being blinded.

I pulled out my phone and texted Anastasia again. I mean, after all, she was at a family BBQ so she had nothing better to do than text back and forth with me, correct?

I sent her, “Magenta, Blue, Yellow, and Orange hair. Scary.”

Seconds later my phone did the vibro-dance and the screen read, “You feel like you dropped a hit of acid without knowing it, don’t you?”

Yeah. I did. I began to wonder if E K had slipped something into my water and was now hiding around the corner laughing at me.

It wasn’t long before we made our way back to the front and it was time to leave. I sat in the shade for a moment, waiting while E K and the O-spring did a quick pass through the vendors in search of a parasol for the munchkin. As I sat watching, confident that nothing could top anything I’d seen so far today, a gorgeous young woman in a bright red, mini-tunic type dress, stiletto heels, and chopsticks protruding from her hair sauntered by, looking every bit like the kind of Asian hookers you see portrayed in bad movies.

But, that wasn’t the one that made my eyes roll back in my head…

Just before E K and the O-spring returned, the crown jewel of the strangeness walked by. Unfortunately I was so stunned I didn’t snap a picture, but I did manage to hack out a text to Anastasia as soon as my retinas settled down…

“Just walked by: Camouflage shorts, red high heels,  bright yellow legwarmers, black tank top, fluorescent blue hair, and a huge raccoon tail hanging off her ass. WTF?” I typed.

Her return text was a simple, rhetorical question. “This is going to be a blog, isn’t it? ;-)”

Well yeah… She was correct… I mean, I couldn’t dream up shit like this even if I had a case of beer and a pound of happy mushrooms at my disposal.

Next year I think I’ll forgo MoBot and throw my own Japanese Festival. There’s a great little Sushi Bar about 5 miles from my house. If you’re looking for me, that’s where I’ll be. Just do me a favor and leave your cape and Fluorescent Crayola hair at home. I’d like to enjoy my sushi without burning out my retinas again…

More to come…

Murv