BRAINPAN LEAKAGE

Part 1 of 2…

You really never know exactly what an evil redhead like E K is going to do to you. Sure, there are all the normal, everyday tortures she has in her bag of tricks. The evil, sadistic stuff that wicked redheads do that would make even Dick Cheney cringe. I’ve already told you about those.

I’m talking about the far more intense EHTT’s (Enhanced Husband Torture Techniques). You see, E K is among that elite group of hypersadistic not-of-this-earth redheads who come up with ways to grind their stiletto heel into the back of your head without even being within 20 miles of you.  Pretty scary stuff this “Remote Torture”, and The Evil Redheads of the world have perfected it.

I’ll let you in on a little secret – I’m pretty sure E K is their leader. She disappears for a couple of hours every week and whenever I ask about it she just gives me one of those really evil grins and says she was at a “meeting”, then tells me to make sure I have chocolate fondue or finger sandwiches ready for her to take with her to “the meeting” the following week. Unless I am missing my guess here, these “meetings” are where the redheads get together and devise new and frightening things to do to poor husbands like me. This includes not returning my Tupperware and/or fondue forks, but that’s another blog.

Anyhow, regarding these new and sadistic tortures, let me give you an example – Take for instance a couple of Christmases ago… (nice segue, eh?)

You see, E K is a “sock lady”. This is almost exactly like a “shoe lady” (she’s one of those too), but it involves socks instead of shoes. Also, be aware that “sock ladies” should not be confused with “sock puppets”. They are something entirely different. Sock ladies can, however, have puppets, especially if they are evil redheaded sock ladies. But, usually they just call us lackeys, slaves, or “hey you”. For some reason they eschew the use of the word puppet. It probably has something to do with “sock monkeys” and corporal punishment, but we won’t go there.

Yeah, I’m  digressing… so what’s new about that?

Okay… Back to the situation at hand – or, at foot as the case may be…

As I was saying, E K is a “sock lady”.  Back in her early twenties – which isn’t all that long ago since, as we all know, she just turned 25 (wink wink, nudge nudge) – her majesty wore skirts, stockings, and heels to work. Yeah… Even as a service technician out in the field she could be found lithely prancing about on high-heels while beating a printer into rightful submission, and looking damn good doing it. (Not that she doesn’t look damn good doing now too, mind you.)

However, for the past several years she has reserved her “fancy shoes” for “fancy occasions”… These days when going all dominatrix with a screwdriver on a printer or plotter she is far more likely to be found in slacks and a stylish pair of black or brown leather, flat-soled Mary Janes.

This is where the socks come in.

You see, she is not about to sacrifice her quirky individuality for anything. Therefore, she has an entire room full of socks.  And when I say socks, I don’t just mean your average, run of the mill, 6 in a package from K-mart type of socks. Nope. Not E K. She has knee socks, over the knee socks, mid-calf socks, ankle socks, lacy socks, sheer socks, polka-dotted socks, striped socks, solid color socks, argyle, oddly patterned, holiday, whimsical, thin, thick, fuzzy, wool, cotton, synthetic, electric, nuclear, hybrid… wheeeezzzzzzz… wheeeezzzzzzz…

(Pant… Pant… Pant… Hold on a sec while I catch my breath, okay?)

wheeeezzzzzzz… wheeeezzzzzzz…

(Whew… Better now… I think…)

So, anyway, you get the point. The woman has socks galore, and is always all about obtaining more socks galore.

She will buy them in a box. She will wear them with an ox.

She will wear them on her feet. She thinks socks are really sweet!

She will get them from the store. She will get them more, more, more!

And, that’s just the beginning.

But, much like the folks who collect those little “baby spoons” from National Parks, she doesn’t want just any socks. They have to be socks she doesn’t already have in her collection. Socks that speak to her. Showcase her individuality and wicked stylishness.

Which brings us back around to Christmas a couple of years ago.

Here’s the thing… E K and I have been together for a long time. When you have been together as long as we have, no matter how much you are “in love of one another” you tend to start scaling back in the Christmas gift department. Instead of going out and mortgaging the house for the Faith or Charity Diamond (I mean, who would want the Hope Diamond. It’s cursed!) You tend to go for gifts that are slightly less pricey and sometimes even a bit more practical. Especially when you are married to a Taurus. They are all about practical. So, on to the socks… You see, those couple of years back I asked The Evil One if there was anything special she wanted to find under the Yule tree. Without missing a beat she replied, “Cool Socks.”

Okay. Cool socks. Easy like pie. This, even I can do without screwing up too badly.

I should have paid more attention to the way the corners of her mouth curled up into a fleeting grin, because little did I know she had just set her wicked, wicked plan into motion.

More to come…

Murv

To Be Continued In:  Murv The Purv…

THE PUF REPORT: Part 5 of 5

Meet “Paducka.” He’s a Pirate Duck, and as you can see from the picture he is also a bit of an antenna adornment for E Kay’s Evilmobile. (Given the curve in the antenna, you may also have noticed that  in this particular snapshot he has a headwind blowing up his duck butt at about 80 MPH.)

I’m sure you are probably wondering why anyone would name a Piratized Rubber Duckie something like “Paducka”. I mean, after all, he’s both a bath toy and a spyglass wielding Pirate, so shouldn’t he have a more nautical, salty, scary, eye-patchy, sword wielding, buccaneerish name?

I dunno, something like “Yellow Beard”… No, wait, that was a movie… Okay… I’ve got it… How about “Duck Billed”… Or better yet, “Captain Jack Mallard”?

Still no, eh?

Well, I can understand that. But, of course, I still haven’t explained why he has a name like “Paducka”… If he was made in Pennsylvania, that might make a bit of sense, but from what we can tell he was injection molded somewhere in Taiwan. Therefore, I suppose “Peking Duck” could have worked, considering… But, no… We have a tendency to pick names that reflect a moment or place in time. Such as one of our rescued cats being named “Asphalt” because we plucked him, half starved, from the middle of the highway.

Okay, okay… Stop chasing the chickens, or ducks as it may be. I know, I know…

So, why did we name the antenna bobble “Paducka”? Simple. Someone at PUF impaled him on our antenna while we were in Burns, Tennessee, but we didn’t notice he was there until we reached Paducah, Kentucky.

Seriously. We didn’t. It was this sudden, collective, “WTF moment” as soon as he was noticed. Shortly afterward, when we made a pit stop, we also found three different sized skull stickers affixed in the corner of the back window. Kind of like the Daddy, Mommy, Offspring “family” stickers you see on the Soccer Mom Mobiles.

I guess skulls not only fit for Pirates, but for the Evilmobile too.

Speaking of Evil, have a look to the right. For all of you who never believed me about the whole Queen Bitch of the Whole Fucking Universe thing, there you go.  E K and Kristin Madden wearing their official QB of the WFU t-shirts. Now, if that isn’t evil (X2) looking for a place to happen, I have no idea what is. The only way to make it worse is for Morrison to throw on her shirt and get involved – as well as all of the other QB of the WFU’s the Fearsome Threesome have inducted into the order over the past year.

So… About the whole “She Loves Me” thing… It actually ties right in with the evilness of the E K, but I’m sure you had already figured that out. But, to properly tell the story I have to run after this pullet over here.

You see, when I sleep at night I kinda look like a lazy F-15 Pilot. What I mean is, since I’m sleeping I obviously don’t look like I’m flying (and let’s just forgo any nocturnal joystick jokes here, okay?) However, I do have a face full of gear that would suggest otherwise. With regard to the flying thing, not the joystick… Sheesh.

The thing is, I have a wicked bad case of sleep apnea, and it’s not just because I’m a fat guy. It’s also because something is wrong with my brain. But, we already knew that. So, anyway, in order to actually sleep and not spend the night drifting in and out as I snore, snort, gasp, gulp, and otherwise just quit breathing altogether, I have to use a CPAP machine (Continuous Positive Airway Pressure)… Basically it’s a fancy, medical grade, regulated air pump that forces my body to breathe while I’m asleep.

I’ve been attached to one of these for several years. In fact, I even own two. One that stays home, as well as a travel sized model that bops around the country with me. I first discovered I needed it when I woke up in the middle of the night to find E K kneeling on my chest with one hand clamped around my nose, and the other hand over my mouth. She says she was just trying to make me stop snoring, but I’m still not entirely sure about that… Especially since I still occasionally wake at night to find her sitting on my chest again, crimping the hose, then letting it go, then crimping the hose a little longer, then letting it go, ad infinitum… All while grinning this evil, wicked grin and giggling.

Let me tell you, it can be just a bit disconcerting…

…As can a sudden pain in your shoulder that seems to come from nowhere.

Yeah… We’re back onto a new chicken. But, it’s the correct chicken this time.

I felt the pain, not entirely sure what it was. Given that it was in my left shoulder, I was understandably concerned. For some reason I was also somewhat dazed, even though the pain was in my shoulder, not my head. I seemed to recall there having been some manner of noise that accompanied the discomfort, but I was damned if I could figure out what it was. I looked around, saw nothing but asphalt slipping past the window, E K behind the wheel, and Johnathan & the O-spring in the back. Since there wasn’t a repeat, I allowed myself to relax.

When it happened again, I was much more cognizant of the hollow, but no less frightening noise that sounded something like, “SKKKRXXXXX SluuuuuuuuggggBnnnuuuggguh SNORT SCHNORT SKRNNNNNRRRXXX OUCH Whaaaaaa?”

Yes. Somewhere along the road home, I fell asleep in the passenger seat while E K endeavored to make the Evilmobile reach the necessary ground speed to become airborne. Since I don’t have a D C adapter for my CPAP, not to mention that I wasn’t intending to fall asleep in the first place, much snoring ensued. E K, wanting to keep me alive so that she could torture me some more did the only thing she could do since she was also occupied with driving.

Yeah, she yelled Slug Bug and hit me.

You know, I never did see the VW. Something tells me it was just an excuse to reach over and smack me. But, I actually find that to be a bit heartening. I guess I must be growing on her, because she’s never felt the need to have an excuse to hit me before…

More to come…

Murv