BRAINPAN LEAKAGE

In keeping with some sort of bizarre tradition, apparently I should write a “last blog post of the year” sort of thing. (I’ll get to the beer in a minute)

I was completely unaware that this was something bloggers are supposed to do. Or, maybe it is something that only Authors who are bloggers are supposed to do. Maybe it has something to do with my last name starting with S. I really have no effing idea, to be honest.

Best Of Both Worlds (NO CYRUS REF ALLOWED)

In any case, I didn’t know I was supposed to do this…

And so, here I am… Sitting on the raggedy edge of 2010, with less than one-third of the day left… The day that will put a bullet in the brain of Two-Thousand-One-Zero. Yes… New Year’s Eve, just in case you missed a page on your calendar.

I have a Schlafly Coffee Stout in hand… For those of you not from around here, it is a wonderful Oatmeal Stout from a local Micro… Well, MINI… Brewery that also contains Kaldi’s coffee – another Saint Louis tradition. If you can get your hands on this stuff and you are a beer drinker who enjoys both coffee and stout, you will love it. Guaranteed.

But back to this 2010 thing…

Since I have no clue what I am supposed to say, and since it is New Year’s Eve, I’ll just go all Robbie Burns and get a bit Auld Lang Syne for a bit…

Long, long ago, I wanted to do a lot of things, just like any other kid. But what I wanted to do most of all was make sh*t up, write it down, and have people read it for enjoyment. If possible, I wanted to do that for a paycheck. But I wanted to start in a different spot before I got to that…

My plan for my life was to be a journalist. In particular, a war correspondent. Why? Because there is always war, and war is news. I even went to college with that aspiration, majoring in Journalism AND Photo Journalism. My plan didn’t stop there. I intended to win not one, but two Pulitzers. Once I had accomplished that, I would come home, meet the woman of my dreams, court her, marry her, and then settle down into a house with a white picket fence, have 2.3 children (how the .3 was going to work out, I wasn’t sure) and then write NYT Bestselling novels for a living.

That was when I was 18…

Evil Kat, ice skating at Steinberg, January 2009

Now, with 49 about to touch down in less than two months, which then puts me on a gear down, VFR approach to 50, having fully cleared the outer markers, things are different.

I didn’t become a journalist. Though it was my major I became a Computer/Electronics Tech. But I kept writing. Before I could become widely published and win even one of those coveted Pulitzers, I met the redhead. She was beyond the woman of my dreams. She was everything. So I married her as soon as I could get her to say yes. And, I continued to write. Eventually, novels were published.

And here we are at the end of 2010. A less than good year economywise.

But here’s my thing – I’m married to the most amazing woman on the planet. I have the greatest kid known to man – not 2, not .3, but a solid 1. I may not have a Pulitzer and I may not have hit the NYT – yet – but I write novels for a living. I have more than 10 under my belt now, with two due in 2011. In the past year alone I have hurled more than 500,000 words at paper  – real & virtual – and that’s just Novel, Novella, and Blogs. Not counting Tweets, updates, and micro-blogs…

I’m doing what I love, I have a roof over my head, an amazing wife, great kid, and food on the table… 2010, for all its trials and tribulations, including the loss of good and old friends, hasn’t been the bitch that some others have been.

Besides… Here I sit, writing a “Last Note Of 2010” to you, with a Schlafly Coffee Stout in hand, and 11 more in the icebox. I dare 2011 to top that…

Have a safe and happy New Year everyone…

More to come…

Murv

If you are a regular follower of B L, you most likely read “You Get HBO On That?”  a few weeks ago. In case you didn’t, or just don’t remember it and are too lazy to click on the link to refresh your memory, it was pretty much a transcript of a conversation I had with my newly 18 year old niece who had just had her nose pierced to celebrate her birthday.

For the record, I don’t care if she puts holes in her nose, or wherever else for that matter. Same goes for anyone else. However, I’m an uncle, I’m a writer, and I have a bizarre sense of humor. Therefore, it’s a moral imperative that I give my niece trouble. So, all of you pierced and tattooed whackos with email accounts can STOP sending me messages telling me what a bastard I am. If you honestly believe I am discriminating against you – and her – then your brains really DID leak out of those extra holes you poked into yourself.

Put simply: Slap some Dap ™ Stupid Crack filler on your holes and leave me alone.

But pointing out to the outraged idiots that they are idiots is not why I’m writing this particular blog entry. Nope. Actually I’m doing it to illustrate a “moral of the story.”

“What moral is that?” you ask…

Well, it’s kind of one of those “Fried Green Tomatoes” sort of morals. Remember that now famous line delivered by Kathy Bates?

“Face it, girls, I’m older and I have more insurance.”

…It’s sort of like that. In fact, I’m pretty sure it’s a lot like the moral I offered in the original blog on this subject. However, Christmas was upon us, and… Well… Allow me to illustrate. Literally.

Front

Top

Back

Side 1

Side 2

That moral?

Don’t do something silly, stupid, or otherwise bizarre if you have ME for an uncle. I have money, a copy of Photoshop, a color laser printer, and one hell of an imagination.

BTW, I didn’t want the other kids to feel left out, so…

Niece #2 got a “Booger ™” Logoed box containing a cork, carpet needle, and antiseptic wipe, along with instructions on how to pierce her own nose.

Nephew received a “Booger ™” Logoed box containing a lump of charcoal and instructions on how to make a diamond nose ring.

Texts and picture messages were flying, let me tell you. Not sure if the rest of the teenagers in Saint Louis think I’m a “Cool Uncle” or a Jackass. Maybe one day they’ll figure out that I’m both…

More to come…

Murv