BRAINPAN LEAKAGE

(This post is in response to a comment left when the Yule Poem was originally posted on Myspace…)

Yes, Jo, I am often amazed that EK doesn’t strangle me as well…

However, I feel compelled to give you all the history behind my version of “Twas the Night Before Xmas”…And, no, it isn’t because EK has me in a choke hold, or that she is standing over me with a flogger…

(Probably because she’s at work right now .)

Anyhow, the posted version of “TwasXmas” is one that is slightly tweaked, with a couple of extra verses added. The “original” psycho-redheaded-material girl filk of this timeless poem was written by me back in December, 1995. Yes, pre Rowan Gant (but not by much, as I began writing the short stories upon which the RGI series are based in 1996.)

Some of you may be aware that I had a long career as a Senior Level Electronics Technician, and in July of ’95 I was stolen away from the service center I managed by a company that had landed a lucrative contract with none other than Western Union. They needed someone capable of doing component level repair on old Concord Payment Terminals. Now, while I had never even seen one of these blue beasts before going to work for this company, I was part of a dying breed of technician–meaning, not only could I work on computers, but I actually knew how to use an Oscilloscope, Logic Probe, Solder/Desolder Station, as well as being able to read schematics. This meant that I could take one of these little beggars apart, track down the offending components (logic IC’s, resistors, capacitors, crystals, what have you) and replace them. They offered me A BUNCH of money to come work for them, as well as some especially tidy bonuses if I could meet a particular quota of repairs. At the risk of blowing my own horn, I actually did 2.5 times the quota each year–so the bonuses were very nice.

So, there is the setup. I left a management position to become a bench tech for another company. While that seems a step down, the dollars made it quite a step up.

However, something I discovered after joining this company is that during the annual Xmas Party, the newest member of the staff was required to Sing, Dance, or in some fashion briefly entertain the rest of the staff. Having been hired on in July, I hoped that I would be spared by a more recent hire but alas, that was not to be. When the holiday party rolled around, I was still the newest kid on the block, and 2 minutes of silly entertainment was expected of me.

Since I cannot carry a tune in a bucket, even if I have help, (just ask the Barstool Prophets…I sat in with them during a party held in my honor at Violet Flame Gifts in Ohio and croaked through a song or two…in my defense I was rather inebriated, but I digress…) As I was saying, since my ear is apparently composed of a tin-aluminum alloy, I asked if it would be okay for me to recite a poem instead. (Yeah, I can’t dance either…think Elaine from Seinfeld)…They were all for that and so it was set. However, you know me. I couldn’t see my way clear to recite something serious, and “TwasXmas” was born.

I actually have the two fading yellow sheets of legal pad paper upon which the original version was written here on my desk. I dug them out of my files so that I could transcribe the bit of rhyme here, and of course, decided to tweak it a bit in the process…(One of those silly writer things)

But, this isn’t where the story ends…(Yeah, here comes the part about EK)…The poem was written all in fun. The absolute truth of the matter is that EK is one of the most practical individuals on the face of the earth. Were the scenario in the poem real, she would be more likely to offer the fat SOB a Scotch, then sit down and calmly talk to him about her list which would contain such items as warm socks, an electric blanket, or maybe some new towels for the linen closet. I kid you not.

Yes, Virginia, the only thing material about my redhead is the fact that I spoil her with material things whenever I can afford it. Oh, she’s still Evil, don’t misunderstand. She’s just not a material kind of Evil…

So, there you have it.

MR

Well, the point behind this whole blog thing is to share, correct? This is where you come to learn silly and little known stuff about yours truly…my meandering thoughts, and generally discombobulated logic, all spilled out onto the page so you can say, “Hey, did you know MR is a freakin’ lunatic?”

Am I right? Thought so…

Okay, so on with the “man boobie” thing. My entire life I have suffered from a condition called Gynecomastia. That being “male breasts”…Now, what I’m talking about here is not fat guy man boobies (although I readily admit I could stand to lose a few pounds…) Even when I was much younger and much thinner (yes, Virginia, I used to be a pretty good looking guy) I had this affliction. In fact, when I was thinner, it was even more pronounced.

One of the things about my particular case is that I was asymmetrical…I was flat chested on one side, and sporting a breast on the other. For years I have strapped the damn thing in, worn oversized shirts, etc, in order to conceal this “deformity” which I found embarrassing. (Okay folks, stop laughing, because I really am baring my soul here.) To give you an idea of how traumatic this affliction can be, think adolescent boys and locker rooms. Pretty bad visual of taunting there, eh? I’ll go you one better. Think about getting intimate with a member of the opposite sex, only to have her laugh at you when you remove your shirt…

Been there…Got the oversized t-shirt…

So…Why am I baring my soul here? Well, I received a number of well wishes in response to my “under the knife” blog post, so I thought I’d fill you in on what the knife was all about…

Fortunately, my man boobie wasn’t like a double-d or something…(Again, don’t laugh, because there are men out there afflicted with such who require extremely expensive and invasive surgery if they want this corrected)…Me, I wasn’t that big, but big enough to be easily noticed…Soooo, since I was actually small enough to not require the MAJOR surgery, earlier this year I underwent “Mesotherapy” (sometimes billed as Lipo Dissolve)…It is a process whereby medicines, vitamins, or in my case, a naturally occuring enzyme, is injected in high concentrations into fatty tissues. This can be done in order to administer vitamins or other medication. The particular form of Mesotherapy I had was to literally dissolve the fatty tissues (hence the term Lipo Dissolve or Lipo Therapy)…After several treatments the gynecomastia had been greatly reduced…Enough so, in fact, that my self-esteem got a major boost. However, my doctor, Amy Miller, was certain she could do more than simply reduce it. She was on a mission to make it go away. (Gotta love the doc, she’s a blast…)

Anyway, toward that end, we waited until my touring season was finished and I had some free time to undergo a slightly more radical procedure. Yesterday was that free time. I had actual Tumescent Liposuction to remove the rest of the fatty, glandular, and fibrous tissues that were responsible for my lopsided man boobie.

The process, in and of itself, took a couple of hours, and while it wasn’t what I would call terribly painful, near the end it did get a bit on the uncomfortable side. Not the doc’s fault, just part of the game. Sooooo, while “going under the knife” was probably not the most accurate title for yesterday morning’s blog entry, it was close enough. (she put a couple of holes in my chest and took stuff out, so that’s close enough in my book anyway .)

I was awake during the procedure, and I threatened repeatedly to blog the silliness that was ensuing– Think about it, you’ve got me, the guy who can’t take ANYTHING seriously on the table, and you got the doc and the nurse, Dawn, there for me to entertain. Throw into the mix all of the silly sounds the various medical apparatus were making, and well, you get the picture…I don’t really remember everything clearly (they doped me with a valium or something) but I remember all of us laughing, and I think I might have been funny and entertaining (at least, I hope I was, because I have a follow-up appointment! )

Anyhow, here I sit, with bodily type fluids draining from the holes into dressings that are taped to my chest (and itching like a mother!)…I am also wearing a compression vest sort of garment, which I will be wearing for another couple of weeks (or, as Dr. Miller put it to EK, however long she wants me to wear it…I just knew those two would get along fine )

There you have it…My tale of man boobies…Of which I no longer am in possession…In about 6 months the skin should have tightened up and I can go about my life being happily flat chested

BTW, I put all of the links throughout so y’all could see what I was talking about…I’m sure it probably looks like “product placement,” and I DO heartily reccomend Dr. Miller to anyone considering any of the procedures she does…Why? Not only is she a hell of a doctor, she actually takes time to talk to you. She doesn’t wave a clipboard at you and say “smear this crap on your face and call me in a week…” She’s a real person who treats her patients like real people, and I have to tell you that is a rare find for doctors these days–at least in my experience…On top of that she has a killer staff…Adrienne and Ivy are great, and the nurse who helped with the procedure, Dawn was great too…Yeah, I know, there I go sounding like a commercial again…Oh well, it’s just one of those things. Just like folks do with books–they find one they like, they recommend it. I’ve found a terrific doc, and I’m recommending her…

But, I’ll stop running off at the mouth now…That’s the story and that’s the “elective surgery” I had done…So now you know…Feel enlightened?

Now, if I can just get some more exercise and get rid of this table muscle that I have developed…

MR