BRAINPAN LEAKAGE

I read an article a while back. Yes, don’t choke on your cornflakes, I actually do take time to read every now and then. It sort of comes with the whole being a writer thing. But, anyway, this particular article presented a study which ostensibly showed that the gene for red hair is being bred out of the world population at a significant rate. Theoretically, this makes E K kinda rare, what with her being the Queen of the Redheads and all that.

But, I’m not entirely sure I buy their story…

All you have to do is turn on the TV, and there they are. For instance, Lauren from the HP and Windows commercial. Heartthrob of every electronics geek on the face of the planet.

Never mind the fact that she’s actually a card carrying actress for hire, and not just some random, ginger hottie off the street shopping for a computer. That’s another story in and of itself. The point here is, REDHEAD.

There’s another commercial for some manner of portable moving and storage company, or maybe it was even broadband internet – I forget which. At any rate, they show a redhead who is packing a box at a snail’s pace, apparently to prove you don’t need to be in a rush.

Then you have the Target ad. I don’t think they are running it at the moment, but it depicted an entire family of redheads. It was kind of creepy, actually. Almost like the episodes of Millennium dealing with the army of blondes.

Unfortunately, I was unable to locate pictures of those last two, so you’ll just have to take my word for it… Even so, all you need to do is keep flipping through the channels.

Have a look at Desperate Housewives and there you have what? A REDHEAD. I don’t actually watch the show myself, but if I was going to, it would probably be because of the femme fatale on the right. I mean, after all, she’s a redhead, so she attracts quite a bit of attention. Kinda like a stoplight or a firetruck, know what I mean?

Thumb the clicker again and you happen across a rerun of Will and Grace. Voila! REDHEAD.

I actually watched this show. As funny as the two guys were, and even that secretary gal with the voice, I was looking at Debra Messing. Arguably the best reason for watching the show in the first place, in my opinion at least.

As we continue our tour around the dial – back in my day we actually had dials, so count yourself lucky that I’m letting you use the remote – click click and whaddya get? A movie starring a redhead. You can pretty much take your pick here. It could be Reba McEntire – the late Senior Sellars favorite, or maybe Holly Hunter – counted among the not-as-yet-late Junior Sellars faves.

Or what the hell, it could even be Julianne Moore.

So… You can’t escape them. They are everywhere… But, you have an idea. You’ll just pop in a DVD and that will take care of the problem.

Well, maybe not so much…

You snag your Firefly DVD’s off the shelf, select one at random because all of the episodes are more than worth re-watching an infinite number of times, and what do you get? Our Mrs. Reynolds plays across your toob and you end up coming face to face with Christina Hendricks.

Don’t get me wrong. Bumping into Christina Hendricks is not something I would complain about. Hell, I’d probably back up and bump into her again. But remember, right now we are on a mission to escape these supposed rare redheads. These individuals of fiery hair and dubious intent.

Now, obviously, I am leaving out far too many to count. Gillian Anderson, for one. Although I liked her better when she was cute instead of sophisticated. She made the innocent girl next door thing work really well. Tina Louise, anyone? As fond as I am of redheads, I wasn’t much of a Ginger guy. I was all about Mary Ann… Now, make Mary Ann a redhead and… Well… We won’t go there…

Hell, there’s even David Caruso, but I’m not really a fan. Although, I did like it when Ike on Southpark did his impression of Caruso’s career and dove out of the UFO into the snow, but that was pre CSI Miami. Not a big fan of that either.

So… in a last ditch effort to escape this redheaded menace we turn to animated features. Surely with red hair being so rare it shouldn’t show up in cartoons, would it?

Let’s see… Flintstones. Nope, Wilma and Pebbles…

Penelope Pitstop? Nope. Another Redhead…

Scooby Doo? Nope. Daphne. Redhead…

Let’s move on…

Jetsons? Nope. Jane.

How about something with Bugs and the gang? WTF? Yosemite Sam…

Strawberry Shortcake, Jessica Rabbit, The Little Mermaid… Well Crap!

How about something a little more current? Damn… The Family Guy DVD’s won’t work… There’s Lois Griffin decked out in Dominatrix Gear beating the crap out of Peter. Typical for a redhead, of course, but still, there’s the operative issue again. R E D H E A D…

Hmmm… Maybe something Pixarish…

Bang! Elastigirl…

Quick, next movie…

Bang! Beth the Park Ranger…

Swap it out again…

I know, a holiday short… Something Christmasy…

BANG! A redheaded Elf babe…

And guess what? SHE’s the one in charge of Flight Ops for the bearded dude who delivers the presents. Of course. She’s a redhead. She would be in charge now wouldn’t she?

Now, before you start objecting, I know some of you are going to say, “But, Debra Messing was the voice for Beth the Park Ranger and Holly Hunter was the voice for Elastigirl, so that doesn’t count.”

Well, guess what? I’ve seen Martin Lawrence and he looks nothing like a Grizzly Bear, so they were under no obligation to make the animated character a redhead like Messing. Same goes for Hunter.

But they did… Why? Because redheads are everywhere, no matter what they try to tell you with falsified genetic diversity reports from shady scientists. How much would you like to bet those supposed “scientists” who conducted the study are all redheads? Yeah, you’ll want to let it all ride on red, because if they aren’t redheads themselves then they are definitely in the employ of the gingers, guaranteed.

Of course, even when I turn off the TV, throw away the magazines, and burn all the copies of The Red Sonja comic books I can find, I’m not safe, because I have a redhead right here with me.

What’s worse, she is their leader…

So there you have it. Concrete proof that this is all a conspiracy cooked up by my wife and “her kind” to create an even larger “Evil Ginger Army” bent on taking over the world.

If all that’s not enough for you, then how about this little tidbit of intel – It just so happens the ERC (Evil Redhead Coalition) has their meetings right here at my house the third Friday of every month. Of course, E K locks me in the basement so I won’t discover their plans, but I eavesdrop through the air ducts, and what I’ve been hearing is pretty scary…

Evil Redheads… They’re everywhere I tell you… Everywhere…

More to come…

Murv

…how to walk in high heels. Trust me, she knows… But, I suppose I should back that up with an explanation.

Now, I have to begin with the fact that we are not talking about E K here. This is not to say that she doesn’t have the aforementioned talent, because she does, in spades. However, in this particular instance I am waxing poetic (as you will see) about another young lady.

As you all well know, I travel a fair bit for book tours and the like – that much is a given. And, during my travels I see things. Sometimes they are frightening, sometimes they are strange, sometimes they are interesting, and sometimes I have no clue what the hell I am witnessing.

And then, there’s Leg Girl.

The Legend Of Leg Girl began several years ago on a weekend trip to Nashville, Tennessee to do a book signing and seminar. My dear friend and fellow author, Tish Owen, also owns a bookstore called Goddess And The Moon. I’ve done several signings there, and I always have a blast hanging out with her, her clientele, her husband Patrick who is my cigar smoking and booze drinking buddy, and all of my other friends there in “music city”.

Well, as the true story goes, one Saturday night after spending the day presenting a workshop on writing, and then signing a mess of books in one of the meeting rooms at the shopping mall across from where Goddess and the Moon was then located – it has since moved – we were going back to the store for a bit of a soiree. Wine, beer, booze, cheese, crackers, munchies, etc. You know the drill. Folks were going to come by, visit, have books signed, get a photo op or two, and all that jazz. Typical book store event sort of stuff. A great chance to just chill out and relax.

Unfortunately, the day had been so hectic for poor Tish and her staff that she had not yet had the opportunity to go pick up the aforementioned noshing items and beverages. Since I had nothing to do between finishing the seminar and the start of the soiree, I volunteered to ride along with Tish and help with the toting, lifting and other such stuff at the grocery store. And so, off we went…

No more had we pulled into the parking lot and begun our search for a space than out in front of us steps “Leg Girl”… All of mid twenties, great hair, hourglass figure, and most prominently on display a set of legs that a Rockette would sell her soul to have. And, I do mean prominently on display, for you see, this entire package was wrapped in nothing more than a sheer blouse, blazer, flared miniskirt – and I do mean MINIskirt – and patent leather stiletto heeled pumps. This was despite the fact that we were at the end of November and the temperature was in the mid forties or thereabouts.

And no, she was NOT a figment of my hormone driven imagination. Tish saw her too. In fact, Tish saw her so well that she was infuriated…

Allow me to explain. You see, Leg Girl literally stepped right out in front of us and began to slowly saunter up the middle of the aisle in the parking lot. Not to the left, not to the right. She was smack dab in the middle of the lane and Tish was unable to get around her. And saunter Leg Girl did. Slowly, deliberately, and swaying with a rhythm that would bring any red-blooded heterosexual male to his knees.

Well, suffice it to say, I had no room on the floorboards in order to get on my knees, not that I didn’t try. Still, even though I was unable to assume the appropriate position of Goddess Worship, I was mesmerized. Tish, however, was most assuredly not. Somehow, and I don’t know how, through my hypnotic stupor I was able to recognize this fact and managed to persuade Tish not to run over Leg Girl – trust me, that took some doing because that was exactly what Tish was intending to do.

Ever since that day, Leg Girl has been a running joke between Tish and me. Every time she books me for a gig at the store, or at PUF, she asks if there is anything special I need, and I always reply, “I need Leg Girl to be my handler for the weekend.” (“Handler” as in liaison / gopher / assistant… Let’s keep it clean here folks…)

Fortunately for me, though always promised by Tish – followed by a healthy chuckle, of course – Leg Girl has never materialized for said duties. Not that I would complain, however E K probably wouldn’t be particularly excited by it. In fact, I’m not really sure which one of us she would kill first…

But anyway, the Legend Of Leg Girl kind of… well… ummm… the legend has legs so to speak – no pun intended. Really. Seriously… But, pun or no, the events of that evening actually inspired a lyrical parody, written by yours truly.

Maybe someday, if we happen to have someone on site who knows all the chords to the original song, I’ll get drunk enough to perform this ditty at PUF…

Leg Girl

(To the tune of Two Hangmen by Mason Proffit)

As I rolled into Nashville with my friend her name is Tish

I saw what I’ll relate to you and it was quite a pretty dish

It seems there was this woman, who had this pair of gams

They went all the way up to her neck, and that’s
where it began

The woman’s name was Leg Girl, the best that I could see

She like to show her legs off, and that’s okay with me

I guess she saw me coming, and donned that mini skirt

And stockings and stiletto heels just so she could
flirt

She walked across the parking lot, right down the center aisle

She swayed and sauntered like a dream, it really made me smile

She stopped a moment in our way and then she tossed her hair

The wind picked up and her miniskirt billowed with
much flair

The driver’s name was Tish Owen, she said this bitch is slow

I’m gonna run her over now if she doesn’t start to go

I said to Tish please don’t do that, I really like this sight

She went to all this trouble so just let her make my night.

The wind continued blowing and gave Leg Girl a goose

She moved a little faster now, but still shook her caboose

Tish was laughing hard at me, as I began to drool

Leg Girl was such an awesome treat that made me
act the fool

Tish finally found a parking space and pulled in with a squeal

Leg Girl was going into the store on teetering high heels

We followed along behind her, and then she disappeared

But I saw her again as we checked out, with a case
or two of beeeeeeeeeeeeeer…

(Chorus)

And she’s my Leggggg Girrrrrllll, there in Tennessee, and that don’t bother me, at all-all-allllll…

And she’s my Leggggg Girrrrrllll, there in Tennessee, and that don’t bother me, at all-all-allllll…

(Repeat Whole Bunches Of Times)

One more time!

And she’s my Leggggg Girrrrrllll, there in Tennessee, and that don’t bother me, at all-all-allllll…

And she’s my Leggggg Girrrrrllll, there in Tennessee, and that don’t bother me, at all-all-allllll…

More to come…

Murv