BRAINPAN LEAKAGE

Being the marketing whore I am, I belong to several e-lists, forums, and even social networking sites (other than MySpank here). I would like to point out, however, that I am more along the line of a high-priced call-marketer, rather than the street corner quickie. Why? Because I try to show a little class.

I take great pains to avoid being one of those incredibly ridiculous, in your face authors who twists any and all subjects around to a mention of their latest book. For example, say you have a thread where someone says “I like oranges”…If for some odd reason I was to throw my two cents in there, it would be something along the lines of “Yeah, me too. Especially the navel oranges because I don’t like seeds.” Whereas, some of the cheaper, street corner author-whores might seize upon that opportunity to post something like, “Well, if you like oranges you should read my latest novel because in chapter 15, my protagonist, Buck Naked, eats an orange before going out to track down the bad guy, Chronic Halitosis.”

I know…It sounds utterly ridiculous, doesn’t it? Well, even though I have never seen a post specifically about an orange, I have seen some just as convoluted…Some, even worse. We call this Blatant Shameless Self-Promotion. (BSSP or BSP) While self-promotion is an absolute must for authors, being so completely insane about it is…well…just icky.

What in blue blazes does this have to do with pink toenails? Not a damn thing. I just wanted to make it clear that while I’ll readily admit to being a whore, I’m neither cheap nor easy. And, “I gots class.”

Okay…So now that we have established that, back to the topic at hand. Actually, the above really does have some small amount to do with this– that being the fact that I belong to so many different lists, forums, and social networking interfaces on the web. What it comes down to is that I see a whole mess of discussions on a whole mess of different topics. Some of them so-so, some of them interesting.

And there you have it. One of these topics on a forum recently caught my attention. In fact, it has appeared on several forums, and even as commentary/questions in my personal email. While I didn’t feel a need to toss my two cents in on it at the time (nothing had been mentioned about oranges in any of the threads or emails, so why would I?) events of the last day have led me to blog about this subject…

The topic in question was, “What do authors do in their free time?”

Some of the speculation was interesting. People commented about different authors they had met in person, stating that they seemed like down to earth folks who would fit right in with their personal circle of friends. Some wondered if it was a taboo to offer to buy lunch for an author or would you be seen as a stalker (for the record, we like free lunches…but not stalkers.) Others waxed prophetic about how much fun we must be having in our multi-million dollar homes with the indoor-outdoor pools, and high-caliber celebrities coming over for parties. I am sincerely hoping that those commentaries were tongue in cheek, because I have yet to be issued my mansion and yacht…

So, in addition to the “wonder if authors hang out with their friends who knew them before they were authors” kind of questions (yes, we do, BTW), there were the typical “what’s a day in the life of an author like?”

Well…I could ramble on for hours, boring you with the details of getting up in the morning, getting my wife off to work, my daughter off to school, doing dishes. cleaning up cat barf from a geriatric, diabetic feline, spreading notes out on the table and plotting a chapter. Then, typing for a couple of hours, deciding it isn’t right and cutting and pasting for a while, only to go back and write it all over again. Making a fresh pot of coffee while eating a sandwich over the sink…Answering the phone only to discover that it is a radio interview you forgot you were supposed to do but your mouth is full of braunschwieger and swiss on whole wheat with a bread and butter pickle slice…So you wash it down and get on with the interview only to discover that the interviewer has never read your books, or even a synopsis–just two lines of the press release. Therefore, she has concluded that you must be an FBI agent and you spend 11 minutes of the 15 minute interview fielding questions you can’t possibly answer about the inner workings of Quantico while trying to convince her that you do NOT work for the FBI…Finally, you get that done and say to yourself “now where was I?”. You manage to get back to what you were doing (writing…after all, that’s what we do) and if you are lucky you get your self-imposed quota written for the day just in time to get your happy ass into the kitchen and make dinner before evil wife person and the kid get home…And, you do ALL of this without ever once wearing a tweed jacket with elbow patches. (My preferred mode of dress is much classier. Cargo shorts, a t-shirt, tube socks, and if I have to run out to the post office or something, my tan Crocs…See a previous blog for details on those…)

Not very glamorous, eh? Kind of like going to the office, working on a project only to discover the data you got from Fred is wrong, so you have to redo half of it…however, you get interrupted by the boss because he/she needs you to stop what you are doing and take care of something else, even though it is something you aren’t qualified for and would be better done by Sally in accounting. Only to wind up your day picking up a bucket of chicken on the way home because the spouse has to take the kid to soccer practice. But, when you arrive late you discover the dog couldn’t hold it so he crapped in your living room…

See the parallel’s there?

“But, Murv! What the holy hell does this have to do with pink toenails?” you demand.

That should be obvious from paragraph 10. I have a daughter, and she’s at “that age.” No, not the age where she brings boys home and I sit in the living room cleaning guns. That’s a few years off yet. She’s still a munchkin and she is at that stage where she wants to be a girly girl (which is fine) but she also wants everyone around her to be pretty too.

So…What did this author do with his free time yesterday? After doing the grocery shopping and other exciting crap like that, he let his 7 year old daughter paint his toenails pink (along with a good portion of his toes).

My wife claims there’s no nail polish remover to be had in the house. I’m pretty sure she’s lying. I can tell by the evil grin.

Till the next time…

Murv

Well, the point behind this whole blog thing is to share, correct? This is where you come to learn silly and little known stuff about yours truly…my meandering thoughts, and generally discombobulated logic, all spilled out onto the page so you can say, “Hey, did you know MR is a freakin’ lunatic?”

Am I right? Thought so…

Okay, so on with the “man boobie” thing. My entire life I have suffered from a condition called Gynecomastia. That being “male breasts”…Now, what I’m talking about here is not fat guy man boobies (although I readily admit I could stand to lose a few pounds…) Even when I was much younger and much thinner (yes, Virginia, I used to be a pretty good looking guy) I had this affliction. In fact, when I was thinner, it was even more pronounced.

One of the things about my particular case is that I was asymmetrical…I was flat chested on one side, and sporting a breast on the other. For years I have strapped the damn thing in, worn oversized shirts, etc, in order to conceal this “deformity” which I found embarrassing. (Okay folks, stop laughing, because I really am baring my soul here.) To give you an idea of how traumatic this affliction can be, think adolescent boys and locker rooms. Pretty bad visual of taunting there, eh? I’ll go you one better. Think about getting intimate with a member of the opposite sex, only to have her laugh at you when you remove your shirt…

Been there…Got the oversized t-shirt…

So…Why am I baring my soul here? Well, I received a number of well wishes in response to my “under the knife” blog post, so I thought I’d fill you in on what the knife was all about…

Fortunately, my man boobie wasn’t like a double-d or something…(Again, don’t laugh, because there are men out there afflicted with such who require extremely expensive and invasive surgery if they want this corrected)…Me, I wasn’t that big, but big enough to be easily noticed…Soooo, since I was actually small enough to not require the MAJOR surgery, earlier this year I underwent “Mesotherapy” (sometimes billed as Lipo Dissolve)…It is a process whereby medicines, vitamins, or in my case, a naturally occuring enzyme, is injected in high concentrations into fatty tissues. This can be done in order to administer vitamins or other medication. The particular form of Mesotherapy I had was to literally dissolve the fatty tissues (hence the term Lipo Dissolve or Lipo Therapy)…After several treatments the gynecomastia had been greatly reduced…Enough so, in fact, that my self-esteem got a major boost. However, my doctor, Amy Miller, was certain she could do more than simply reduce it. She was on a mission to make it go away. (Gotta love the doc, she’s a blast…)

Anyway, toward that end, we waited until my touring season was finished and I had some free time to undergo a slightly more radical procedure. Yesterday was that free time. I had actual Tumescent Liposuction to remove the rest of the fatty, glandular, and fibrous tissues that were responsible for my lopsided man boobie.

The process, in and of itself, took a couple of hours, and while it wasn’t what I would call terribly painful, near the end it did get a bit on the uncomfortable side. Not the doc’s fault, just part of the game. Sooooo, while “going under the knife” was probably not the most accurate title for yesterday morning’s blog entry, it was close enough. (she put a couple of holes in my chest and took stuff out, so that’s close enough in my book anyway .)

I was awake during the procedure, and I threatened repeatedly to blog the silliness that was ensuing– Think about it, you’ve got me, the guy who can’t take ANYTHING seriously on the table, and you got the doc and the nurse, Dawn, there for me to entertain. Throw into the mix all of the silly sounds the various medical apparatus were making, and well, you get the picture…I don’t really remember everything clearly (they doped me with a valium or something) but I remember all of us laughing, and I think I might have been funny and entertaining (at least, I hope I was, because I have a follow-up appointment! )

Anyhow, here I sit, with bodily type fluids draining from the holes into dressings that are taped to my chest (and itching like a mother!)…I am also wearing a compression vest sort of garment, which I will be wearing for another couple of weeks (or, as Dr. Miller put it to EK, however long she wants me to wear it…I just knew those two would get along fine )

There you have it…My tale of man boobies…Of which I no longer am in possession…In about 6 months the skin should have tightened up and I can go about my life being happily flat chested

BTW, I put all of the links throughout so y’all could see what I was talking about…I’m sure it probably looks like “product placement,” and I DO heartily reccomend Dr. Miller to anyone considering any of the procedures she does…Why? Not only is she a hell of a doctor, she actually takes time to talk to you. She doesn’t wave a clipboard at you and say “smear this crap on your face and call me in a week…” She’s a real person who treats her patients like real people, and I have to tell you that is a rare find for doctors these days–at least in my experience…On top of that she has a killer staff…Adrienne and Ivy are great, and the nurse who helped with the procedure, Dawn was great too…Yeah, I know, there I go sounding like a commercial again…Oh well, it’s just one of those things. Just like folks do with books–they find one they like, they recommend it. I’ve found a terrific doc, and I’m recommending her…

But, I’ll stop running off at the mouth now…That’s the story and that’s the “elective surgery” I had done…So now you know…Feel enlightened?

Now, if I can just get some more exercise and get rid of this table muscle that I have developed…

MR