BRAINPAN LEAKAGE

No, not your head. And, noooooo, not that satellite/cable TV network for kids either…

Nog… Milk, Egg Yolks, Sugar, Vanilla, and some Nutmeg. Egg Nog. The elixir of the holidays. The “dairy that marries” so well with good Kentucky/Tennessee Bourbon. The very reason for making it to and through the bah-humbug season of the year.

Know what I’m talking about now? Yeah, thought so.

I’ve spoken highly of nog before. In fact, I suspect I’ve even posted a Nog Blog in the past, I’m sure. But, I’m old and I have CRS* so I don’t always remember. Anyway, as you may recall, the appearance of nog in the refrigerated section of the supermarket is how I know it is time to “be of good cheer”. And, as stated above, it is the reason I am of good cheer during the “holler days”. (Well, it and the bourbon…A whole lotta bourbon…)

There I go digressing again… It’s the bourbon talking, I’m sure of that. Maybe i should have some more… Anywho, obviously I am now in possession of sour mash-laced, sweetened and thickened dairy products of the supermarket ilk (because I simply don’t have enough hours in the day to make boiled custard – as we call it back where I come from. I’m sure I have regaled you with stories of watching my mom, my grandmother, and/or my grandfather Elvis standing at the stove, carefully and constantly stirring a pot of the concoction. If I haven’t, then perhaps I need to get nostalgic and post a Double Nog Blog this year. So, anyway, I am also in possession of the supermarket style nog because my gut  doesn’t require any more than I obtain from the store…you see, if I made it myself I’d make a lot… I mean A LOT! My gut is big enough as it is.)

So, as I sit here working in my office – well, at my dining room table actually since I felt like a change of venue today – I am having a bourboned up nog and watching my squirrels beat on the picture window because they are out of animal crackers (seriously… I just put corn out today and no animal crackers, so the little tree rats are pitching a fit… I should really take pictures.) But, back to the nog… As I sit here having my nog I am reminded of a story. If I’ve told it before, just throw me a bone – read it again and pretend like you’ve never heard it before…

Many, many, maaaaannnnnnyyy years ago, when I was but a wee author (I used crayons for my stories)… seriously, I was like 7 or 8… we (my sister and I) had this babysitter. Hannah. I wonder whatever happened to Hannah. I had a major “8 year old” crush on her… and, what with her being an older woman… ya’know, like 15 and all… Well, either way, I digress yet again… Bourbon, nostalgia, and hormones… weird combination 🙂

So, back to the “story”… You see, we had some nog in the fridge because it was around the holidays. Mom had told Hannah that she was welcome to have nog, and that so could my sister and I. And, we did… In fact, we drank better than a half gallon between the three of us as I recall.

When my parents came home that afternoon, instead of finding two kids bouncing off the walls and a frazzled babysitter, they found two sleeping kids and a snoozing babysitter.

You see, my mom had mixed up the labeling on the containers. It seems that we had, without our knowledge or any malice aforethought, consumed the bourbon laced nog instead of the “family friendly nog”.

All we knew is that it tasted a bit different, but it still tasted really good… And, of course, it made us feel all warm and tingly. Back then, we attributed it to holiday cheer.

Now that I am older, I understand that holiday cheer comes in a bottle. Now, excuse me while I head back to the kitchen for a refill.

More to come…

Murv

* Can’t Remember Shit syndrome

(Oh, and yeah, I stole your footnote idea there, Anastasia ;p )

You know, the rumor mill seems to be getting more activity than my coffee grinder…What’s up with that?

So, anyway, I am back from Nashville, which was my last gig for the year. I had a blast, as usual, but I’m glad it’s over and I get to stay home with the Evil One and the Offspring for a while. But, while in Nashville, I was enlightened as to some of the rumors circulating about me. For fun, I thought I’d address the ones I was told here in this blog-

1. M. R. Sellars is tall.

I suppose that would depend upon your perspective. I’m 5′ 7″…Or, I used to be. I’ve probably shrunk a bit over the years. In any case, I think that probably qualifies as average height, not tall.

2. M. R. Sellars is blonde.

Look at my picture. Do I look blonde to you? Maybe WAYYYYYYY back when I was a teenager, but that was only for one summer and was the result of spending all day in/at the pool along with the help of a 70’s era hair product called “Sun In” (Yes, it was intended to gradually bleach your hair.) Other than that, the closest I’ve ever been to blonde would probably be when I was like two or something, but even then we were talking light to medium brown, not blonde.

3. M. R. Sellars is gay.

I assume the meaning here is as in homosexual, and not the colloquial “gay = strange”…Or, even the standard “overjoyed”…Well, actually, no. I’m not. I’m heterosexual, i.e. straight. Always have been, no plans to change either.

4. M. R. Sellars is bi.

See answer to rumor 3.

And, my personal favorite…

5. M. R. Sellars attended a BDSM con in Atlanta, GA and scored with the babes.

Okay, how substantiated this particular rumor is, I have no idea, but I was informed that it had been a topic of discussion on some lists. Not lists that I am on, so who knows. Either way, let’s lay out some facts here:

A. I haven’t attended ANY BDSM Conventions at all, much less any in Atlanta. This is not to say that I wouldn’t or won’t, especially since the Miranda Trilogy would do well there, but as yet, I haven’t done a promo appearance at such a convention. (I also haven’t attended one for pleasure either.)

B. I am MONOGAMOUS and have a smokin’ hot wife. (Remember EK?) So, even if I were to attend such an event I would not be scoring with anyone but the redhead known as EK.

C. Apparently, from what I am told, the tall and blonde rumors are subsets of this particular rumor.

So, apparently from what I was told some tall, blonde dude went around saying he was me in order to score.

Dude…come on…You can’t score on your own? More importantly, you can’t pick someone who is a closer physical match to you, especially given that a simple Google search of my name will reveal a gazillion pictures that would instantly disprove your claim? Obviously you are taking the line from that Sean Connery movie WAY TOO seriously… I hate to tell you this but that was just a movie– women will NOT sleep with you just because you wrote a book.

So, all I can say is that if you did manage to score by using my name, well…Good on ya’.

But, really, if the truth be told, if you did, I hope she was a Dom and when she figured out you were lying about who you were she beat the living snot out of you (not in the good way, more like in the Miranda way) then left you tied up in a closet in a hotel room with the do not disturb sign on the door so you could spend a little time ruminating over your overt stupidity for a day or two.

Yeah, that translates into, “Get a life and stop using my name for your own personal gain, you fruitloop.”

So, there you have it…Other than the ages old rumor that I’m dead, which for some reason seems to resurface every now and then, those are the latest…To recap, I’m not tall, not blonde, not gay, not bi, and have not attended a BDSM convention for business (or pleasure), and therefore, you have NOT slept with me.

More to come…

Murv