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  • Sometimes You Just Gotta Say, #WTF…

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    There are times when you have to clean out the old brainpan. Get rid of excess words, phrases, clauses, and other ridiculous stuff. It’s a battle writers fight constantly. Generally we do it because if we don’t get the unsaleable crap out of the way, then we can’t put the saleable crap on the paper.

    Kinda like freeing up a log jam, so to speak.

    So, I’m sure you are probably wondering what qualifies as a writer’s soluble fiber for the brain… The Ex-Lax for the cerebral cortex so to speak…

    I have no clue.

    All I can say is that when it takes hold, all manner of nonsensical BS  – AKA Brain Sh*t – will spew forth. If you don’t believe me, just read the other entries in this blog… I mean, it isn’t called Brainpan Leakage for nothing, ya’know…

    So, anyway, on this particular day in history, my grey matter was cramping a bit, and the next thing you know I had… well… you know… an urgent brain movement.

    Not having time to get to the blog, I took advantage of the first receptacle I could find… What follows here are a series of inane, nonsensical, brain sh*t expelling tweets sent forth from my Twitter account this morning, all including their original hashtag – #WTF…

    BTW – I received three comments in the wake of this leakage – one person was horribly confused, another enjoyed them immensely, and well, the other commented by simply unfollowing me. Guess I was just a little too intense.


    I wasn’t concerned when she pulled the handcuffs from her overnight bag. However, the spatula and pinking shears gave me pause… #WTF

    There was only one way out that didn’t involve a body bag. Now, all I needed were some high heels, a spark plug, and a can of peas… #WTF

    The stilettos, she had, even if they weren’t my size. It was the spark plug and canned veggies that seemed out of my reach… #WTFpinking-shears

    The room smelled like toast, and she looked like prepackaged sex. It was when the pizza arrived that I understood her plan… #WTF

    It was thin crust, with double anchovies and extra cheese. The aroma was intoxicating, but somehow I knew it wasn’t meant for me… #WTF

    “You’re late!” she screamed. The pizza guy cowered, but it was too late. Now the pinking shears protruded from his chest… #WTF

    anchovy_pizzaIf only there had been black olives on that pie, then perhaps I could have made my escape. But, the peas were still eluding me… #WTF

    My luck held. She grabbed the spatula, then went in search of another victim. “Be right back,” she said, as she exited the room… #WTF

    This was my chance. Maybe I could do this without the peas. But wait, what about the shoes? Damn, she was still wearing them… #WTF

    I resigned myself to whatever fate had in store. Even if I could get by without the peas, the high heels and spark plug were a must… #WTFpeas

    I had just given up when the hotel detective entered the room. “Am I interrupting?” he asked. “Yes, but please do,” I replied… #WTF

    It seems they had found her in the lobby, spatula in hand as she served cheesecake to the guests in her own special way… #WTF

    “What tipped you off?” I asked, absently rubbing my wrists where the handcuffs had been cinched tight…. #WTF

    ngk-sparkplug-main_full“She wouldn’t let anyone have seconds,” the hotel detective replied, offering me a cigarette… #WTF

    I lit the cig and stared off into space while muttering, “You know, if she’d left the shoes, I’m sure I could’ve escaped.” #WTF

    The hotel detective shook his head. “Not likely. They were fuschia.” I looked at him sideways. “Fuschia?” #WTF

    “Yeah,” he said with a nod. “If they’d been red, maybe. But fuchsia, not a chance.” I nodded my own head in agreement… #WTFaaaac6sjmocaaaaaadw7pw

    “So, how did this all start?” the hotel detective asked. After correcting my spelling of fuchsia I looked out the window and sighed… #WTF

    “Well, you see,” I began. “There was this pair of handcuffs…”  – 30 –  #WTF

    More to come…

    Murv

    Note: If you Twitter you can follow me @mrsellars. Be careful, I might follow back…

  • Freak Storm, Backyard Carnage…

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    Well, maybe not “carnage” so much, but our Red Bud tree took some damage from the freak March snowstorm that struck overnight here in Saint Louis. Only a few inches of the white stuff fell, but it was in a very, very short period of time. Plus, it was the heavy, wet snow that tends to weigh things down.

    It was around 4:45 – 5:00 AM when I heard the sickening sound of cracking lumber. In my half sleep I actually felt a bit of panic because there used to be a large oak right outside our back door, and it had been dying for years. I finally had it taken out summer before last, but in the past it had dropped limbs and exacted a toll on both our house and that of our neighbor.  However, up until I had it removed I had harbored a fear that it would some day send one of the larger branches through our roof, and if that happened, our bedroom would be right in the damage path.  Still in a semi-dream state, this was my muddied brain’s first thought. I hooked an arm around E K as I rolled to the right, but before I could push her off the bed and out of harm’s way, I heard the heavy thud of the branch hitting the ground outside instead of coming through the roof on top of us. My brain woke just a bit more and in that instant I remembered that the oak was gone.

    Good thing too…

    E K was still asleep, but if I had pushed her off onto the floor, I’m betting she wouldn’t have been for long.

    I crawled out of the bed and looked out the back window of our bedroom. Snow covered the landscape in an uneven, spotty blanket. And there, in the middle of the yard, was a major branch of our Red Bud tree. At that point, I pretty much sighed and then muttered, “This ain’t good.”

    Since it had been in the 70’s and 80’s for the past couple of weeks, trees were budding and sprouts were sprouting. If you are familiar with the Red Bud, you know that in the spring it is covered with tiny reddish-magenta flowering buds for a week or two. Unfortunately, those miniscule flowers formed enough of a lattice to capture and hold the snow, making the weight on the branch too much to bear.

    This particular Red Bud was one I had given E K as a birthday gift around 15 years ago. Actually, I gave her a stake with an orange flag on it and told her to go stick it in the yard wherever she wanted a tree. And, no, before you ask, I didn’t make her water it or anything :lol:… Two days after she stabbed it into the ground like a Van Helsing disciple offing a vampire – (and she looked pretty damn hot doing it too, as I recall) – the nursery arrived while we were at work and planted the tree she had been telling me she wanted.

    At any rate, as promised in my “tweets” early this morning, below are a couple of pictures of the tree…

    Damaged Red Bud Tree as seen from our bedroom window...

    This would be the view from our bedroom window on the second floor. It was taken by E K early this morning while it was still extremely overcast, so I had to adjust it a bit in Photoshop. (click photo to enlarge.)

    Damaged Red Bud in the daylight

    From the back of the yard, later in the day. As you can see, the snow disappeared within a matter of a scant few hours, and the sun was brightly shining. What isn’t obvious is that the ground is saturated (it rained all day before the snow arrived) and there is even standing water in the depressions throughout the lawn. (click photo to enlarge)

    There you have it. Our backyard carnage. Looks like I am going to be pulling out the chainsaw in the next day or two before I have to jet off to Nebraska.

    More to come…

    Murv