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

THE PUF REPORT: Part 2 of 5

You know, this whole being an author gig is kind of interesting, in a psychological mindf*ck sort of way, if you get my meaning.

Now, if you don’t get my meaning, I hope you will by the end of this blog entry. But – and this is a big but (stop snickering) – before I go any further, I want to point out an important bit of info: I write because I enjoy writing. I sought publication because I enjoy sharing stories, and I’ll admit that it’s nice to get paid to do something you enjoy. (Not that the paycheck is all that big, mind you.) So, writing was pretty much my only choice in the  “professions I truly enjoy” category because I don’t have the necessary endowments to make it big in the adult film industry.

But, be that as it may, what I’m driving at here is the fact that I did NOT go into this profession seeking fame. Really and truly, I didn’t. With fame comes all sorts of responsibility that I really don’t want. Unfortunately, by definition, the whole “branding” and “marketing” thing does tend to make your name known to readers of a particular genre and that sort of thing.  Ergo, while not necessarily what you would call “fame”, there is a certain level of “recognition” that is achieved. It’s actually even somewhat necessary – as I said, “marketing” – in order to have any kind of success in this field.  Yeah, it just sorta comes with the territory, like it or not.

Fortunately for me, I’m a ham and I don’t mind a little bit of attention every now and then. Unfortunately, however, I am afraid I might have become a bit used to it.

Okay, before anyone says anything about that statement above, no, the author thing hasn’t gone to my head. Dorothy Morrison would probably tell you otherwise and that I have to use a pair of scissors to get out of a pullover shirt, but that’s simply not true. (I’ve had all of them altered to include a Velcro quick release a the shoulder seams.) That, and she lies on me all the time. It’s how she is.

Still, with all that said, I have become somewhat used to arriving at an event and having people recognize who I am and be happy to see me.

This is where we segue to Lasagna.

Okay, I’ll sit back for a second and wait for everyone to slip into their neck braces, what with that sudden case of whiplash coming out of nowhere… Everybody ready? Good… Here we go…

At PUF (Pagan Unity Festival) there is a community feast on Saturday night. Everyone brings a dish to share and the event usually preps a major entree like ham and chicken or something of that sort. There’s food for miles, but we are actually going to get to that in a later blog, so I won’t give you all the food details right now. The point behind me telling you this is that some years back everyone donated frozen lasagna. Yeah…everyone… Their dish to share was the old standby, family-sized pan of frozen, layered, Italian-American pasta. PUF literally received something like 40 pans of it. In the wake of this glut of pasta the fest has requested that no one donate lasagna ever again under pain of horrible and terrible, prolonged, agonizing death. Thank you, and go about enjoying yourselves now. Etc.

Well… you know me… I take that as a challenge… Yeah, you guessed it. Every year it is a moral imperative that I and my crew donate a frozen lasagna, if for no other reason than to get a decent laugh. Now, since we do this primarily as a joke, we buy cheap lasagna. And, since it is frozen, we tend to buy it when we get close to the event – as in just a few miles away. The past few years it has been obtained from the Kroger in Dickson, TN since that is right near the park where PUF is held.

So, by now I am sure you are all wondering just exactly what Kroger Frozen Lasagna has to do with this whole authoring thing, fame, and even more so, why this post is titled “Where’s Kat?”. Well, believe it or not, it all fits together.

Seriously. Would I lie about that? (Okay, don’t answer that.)

Ahem… Koff… Koff… Well, let me see if I can tie it all together for you. Obviously, “Kat” is none other than E K. If that wasn’t obvious, it should be now that I have told you (wink wink, nudge nudge). At any rate, after she was through torturing Johnathan… Well… Actually she’s never truly finished torturing anyone… But, moving on… After she was finished torturing Johnathan for the time being, we finally rolled into Montgomery Bell State Park where PUF is held each year. We checked in at the gate, did our annual “Royal Wave” as Johnathan and I rode down to the cabin on the back of the van, and then started to unload. (Note: The only reason E K doesn’t make us ride on the outside of the van during the rest of the trip is because it is illegal on the highway. Although, on numerous occasions she has been known to tie someone up and put them in the car top luggage carrier, but that’s another story.)

As we were unloading the van, I noticed that the Frozen Lasagna was  well on its way to getting melty, so I grabbed it up and headed down the hill to the main hall where the kitchen and fridges are located. It was nice to finally be off the road after a long drive, and I was excited to see all the folks I call my friends, but who I only get to visit with about once per year.

When I reached the bottom of the hill I walked into the dining hall, then through the doors and into the kitchen. There was bustling activity among the crew as they prepared the evening meal. I grinned and tossed the lasagna on the counter as I always do. It felt like I was coming home again. For a brief few seconds, anyway…

You see, usually I am greeted with something along the line of, “Murv’s here!” being shouted with much excitement. This year, however, instead of anything involving my name and happiness over my arrival, what met my ears was, “Where’s Kat?”

Initially I figured this was just an odd anomaly. A one-time occurrence. Nothing that should raise any sort of concern. But then someone came out of the back, rounded the corner, saw me, then smiled and asked, “Where’s Kat?” Then, someone came in through the doors behind me, noticed I was standing there and said, “Oh hi, Murv. Where’s Kat?”

I answered the question two dozen times before I made it out of the dining hall, only to be bombarded with it all the way back up the hill to our cabin. I  finally lost count of how many more times it was asked of me over the weekend. Suffice it to say, it became painfully clear that I had been unceremoniously and completely usurped by the Evil Redhead.  Murv was nobody. All hail E K.

I guess I shouldn’t be surprised. I mean, she’s far prettier than I’ll ever be, and then there’s that whole “hot, sexy, evil without boundaries” thing she has going for her. I suppose it was only a matter of time…

But, you know, that’s not the most troublesome development out of all this… As always, the planning for the following year’s PUF begins approximately 24 hours after the end of the current year’s PUF, so all of that is already in full swing. Not unusual, except that I’ve already been hearing rumors that we author types are being completely cut from the program.

Apparently E K is going to be the 2010 Guest of Honor.

More to come…

Murv

The next installment in THE PUF REPORT: Part 3 of 5 – Dingle? What’s A Dingle?