BRAINPAN LEAKAGE

In the movie, Close Encounters Of The Third Kind, the character who is the translator for the French scientist has himself a eureka moment, then says to everyone in the room, “Before I got paid to speak French, I was a cartographer…”

As many of you are probably well aware – and even if you are, I’m going to tell you again – I have a tendency to paraphrase that quote, saying, “Before I got paid to write books, I was a computer and printer technician…”

And, it’s true. I was. I never had occasion to uncover any salient points that would tell us where the Extraterrestrials were going to land, as did the French speaking cartographer, but I did happen to make a few folks lives a bit easier by fixing their computer equipment.

But, that really has nothing to do with hamsters now, does it? Keep reading. Eventually it will make sense. Convoluted in many ways, but sense nonetheless. During the 25+ year span of my Electronics Fix-It-Guy career, I spent a decade with a company called T&W Typewriter and Computer Repair. And, no… The W didn’t stand for “Womputer”. It was the owner’s name. But, moving right along… We had this receptionist, dispatcher, girl Friday – actually, she liked to be called Administrative Goddess. And, that was okay, because she really was. Phyllis was the glue that held the crew together, and she was a good buddy. You see, Phyllis had just as warped a sense of humor – if not more so – than me.

I know. Hard to believe, but it’s true. Anyway, Phyllis and I used to toss incredibly bizarre humor back and forth like snowballs. One liners. Clippings out of magazines. Fake ransom notes. Post its. And drawings. One of the things we had in the back of our shop was a dry erase board. We used it for things like parts order lists, reminders, etc. But, as the years wore on, it was replaced by fax order forms and the like. Not wanting to see it go to waste, I began drawing bizarre cartoons on it. Parodies of life around T&W, be it a weird service call or something that happened over the weekend.

Throughout the years there were things like a caricature of my buddy and fellow Tech, Chris, running bare-butted through the woods with a lantern – something we had convinced him (for a few minutes) that he had done while blind drunk on a company float trip the previous weekend. Or, caricatures of myself and another tech, Mike, portrayed as “Beavisish and Buttheadish” looking characters complaining about a PITA (pain in the ass) customer. However, among the longest running in the way of a “series” of toons and by far one of the most popular with our crew, were the ongoing adventures of “Merp The Tech Hamster”…

“Merp” was born of many things coming together in one place purely at random. Phyllis having a fascination with hamsters. A friend of mine calling me “Merp” all the time. My reputation for being able to MacGyver practically anything, as well as having all sorts of useless knowledge rolling around in my head that would often come out for no reason other than a mnemonic trigger. Back then they would sometimes call me “Cliff Clavin,” (Cheers) even though what I was spouting was truly factual. These days many of my friends call me “Ducky” (NCIS)… But, I digress…

“Merp The Tech Hamster” and his sidekick “Ex-Marine Biologist Turned Supermodel, Buffy Bighair” had a great run as a tongue-in-cheek cartoon adorning the dry erase board. Two to three times each week a new panel would go up, regaling the staff with their adventures battling their evil nemesis, “Doctor Shirley Knot” (aka Phyllis).

Then, one day, the hamster ran away… Wait… no… that was The Pretender… But seriously, then, one day, I left T&W for what were greener pastures, moneywise. Phyllis and I remained friends for a while, although we have lost touch over the years. But, at that point in time after spending a decade in one place, it was a fairly emotional exit. But, as happens with repair companies, I had occasion to call T&W on a regular basis to give them a referral for something the new outfit wasn’t authorized to work on, or to order a part, or to trade tech support. During one of those calls Phyllis mentioned that she and the others really missed the “Merp The Tech Hamster” cartoons.

And so, Sharpie in hand and FAX machine nearby, I set about tempering the loss with paper versions of the dry erase board saga. Recently, while going through some old files I happened upon a folder which contained 8 original “Merp The Tech Hamster” cartoons. While some of them contain inside jokes, I will attempt to explain them as best I can. However, with there being 8 official blogging days for Brainpan Leakage in the month of February – not to mention that I am in the middle of a deadline and could use some easy blogs for a few weeks – I thought I’d declare it Hamster Month.

While an untold number of these “toons” are lost due to the impermanence of dry erase boards, and my own neglect, these 8 still remain. I hope you enjoy them as much as Phyllis did…

Image Copyright © M. R. Sellars – As you can see, each of these is labeled “To Phyllis” since I was faxing them to her each week. The themes would vary, largely depending upon what was happening at the time. I cannot say for certain, but I think this is possibly one of the first – if not THE first – paper toon I faxed. There I – Merp the Tech Hamster – sit at my repair bench, working on a printer, soldering iron in one paw, screwdriver in the other, complete with my compTIA A+ certification certificate hanging on the wall.

More to come…

Murv

Have you ever noticed that food modifies our social interaction in ways you don’t normally imagine?

I’m not talking about parties, or dinners with family and friends. Nothing fancy. No linen tablecloths, penguined up waitstaff, or $200 bottles of champagne that taste like crap. I’m just talking about average, everyday noms. The basic sustenance one tosses down their neck in order to fuel the body.

Am I making sense here? Yeah, I figured not. Let me see if I can explain my thoughts on this. You see, contrary to what you might think, I’m not actually a very social individual. I know, I know – I blog twice each week, have pages on all of the popular social networking sites, and I do a lot of book signings. And, if you follow any of my silliness you also know that I  have friends. Yeah, big shocker, I know, but I really do. Some of them even like me. Others, like say Rhonda and Dave are really worshipers of The Evil Redhead, although they don’t mind if I cook for them while they prostrate themselves before E K. (Note that I said prostrate, not prostate.)

Now, I also want to make something clear so there aren’t any misconceptions – I’m not a total misanthrope. Just a partial. What I mean to say is, I enjoy social interaction with my friends (Yes, Rhonda and Dave too), and I have a blast meeting new folks at book signings. However, I also like my quiet time. If you look at my Meyers-Briggs it will tell you I’m an introvert. So, while I really enjoy myself when I am “on” – which is what we tend to call it when I am being that M. R. Sellars guy as opposed to just plain old Murv – I find it equally enjoyable to switch “off”. I’m one of those folks who can become overwhelmed and needs to hit the reset button – you can ask my friends. Even when we have gatherings with all of the folks I dearly love, you will sometimes find me sneaking out on the back deck, beer in hand, just to get away from it all for 5 minutes. I’m even known to bum a cigarette now and then –  and other than some brief topples off the wagon due to extreme stress in my life, I haven’t smoked for 15 years. (except cigars, but that’s a different story.)

So, I think you can see what I’m talking about here. Or, maybe I’ve just muddied the waters. I’m good for that at times. But, either way, let’s get back to the pizza…

The other night, after a marathon writing session during the day, I was not in a mood to shuffle pots and pans in the kitchen. Nor was I in any frame of mind to socialize. This isn’t unusual when I have an intense writing day. After spending a nail-biting, totally immersed span of time in my imaginary world, I need to decompress. And so, I submitted the necessary paperwork in triplicate, prostrated myself, turned on my obsequious lackey charm, and obtained approval from the Evil Redhead to run out and grab pizza for supper.

Down the street from our home we have a chain pizza joint. It’s named after a Roman emperor. Not sure if it’s Julius or Augustus, but either way I’m sure you know which one I am talking about. The dude with the toga adorns their box. Well, as I am sure you are probably aware, they have a special deal on pizzas ready to go. Just drop in and if you are satisfied with plain old sausage, pepperoni, or cheese you are all good. 5 bucks and you are out the door in under 60 seconds – unless they are really busy. And, on this particular occasion they were…

I jumped into line and a minute or two later I was asking the guy behind the counter, “What do you have ready to walk?”

He looked and replied, “Cheese.”

Well, that would cover the O-spring, but E K likes pepperoni and I am a sausage guy. So, I elected to pay for my trio of pies and wait. So had several other folks.

Now remember, at this point I was in no mood to socialize with anyone.  My fictional characters had used up every ounce of my energy earlier in the day. My brain matter was fried. However, this is where the “food modified social interaction” suddenly comes in. There I stood next to the “Group W Wall” with a whole gaggle of folks I had never met and was never likely to meet again.

Less than a minute into my wait the guy next to me looks over and says, “What’d’ja order?”

Instead of giving him a who the hell are you look, I smiled and said, “All three.”

“Yeah,” he grunted. “I’ve been waitin’ on sausage.”

“We ordered supremes,” a couple two windows down along the wall offered.

“Special order, eh?” I grunted.

“Yeah, we aren’t in a hurry,” the male half of the duo replied.

A lady who was two or three back from me in line plopped herself into a seat next to where I was standing and said, “You know what I hate? When someone who comes in after me gets their food first.”

“Uh huh,” I said. “Kinda makes you rethink your menu choices doesn’t it?”

She nodded and said yes. The couple laughed. The guy next to me chuckled and said, “That’s a fact.”

The guy behind the counter called out one of the orders and the person who had been waiting jumped forward. Heretofore he had been completely silent, not joining into the impromptu “Group W” conversation, but once he had his pies he waved at all of us on the way out the door and said, “You guys have a good night.”

“You too,” we all returned.

Nice guy. Not very talkative, and he probably kicks his dog and steals cable when the rest of us aren’t around, but there at the pizza place he was a hell of a guy.

A minute or so later the lady who had voiced her loathing of people who were behind her in line getting their food first was called up for her order. In case you forgot, she had been behind me by 2 or 3 customers, yet I was still waiting. But, there was no animosity there. I was happy for her that she now had her pie in hand. Still, the guy next to me and I made a joke about it anyway – all in fun, of course. The couple down the wall thought it was funny. So did several other folks in the crowd. We aren’t sure if the lady thought it was funny because she was out of there so quickly that the displaced air from the door didn’t even get anywhere near her ass. I suppose that for her the magic of the social interaction was gone. She wasn’t like us any longer. She was with pizza, and we were without. She was better than the rest of us now… She had her food and it was time to “move on up”.

I really don’t blame her though. A few minutes later the guy next to me had his and was waving on the way out the door. Soon after that I had mine and was making a beeline for the exit. The couple who had ordered the supremes was still waiting. I smiled and said, “Hope yours are ready soon!”

They smiled back and said, “Us too. Have a great night!”

I returned the pleasantry and headed for my truck, secure in the knowledge that my new found friends would soon be with pizza, just as I was.

I don’t think we’ll be exchanging Christmas Cards or anything like that. In fact, if by some odd chance any of us run into one another at the grocery store or gas station in the future, we probably won’t even blink because we’ll be in ignore the world mode.

But, for a few minutes that foggy night in January through the social magic of food we were a tight knit group of friends, standing around waiting for our 5 dollar pies… Unwittingly, we had each become beneficiaries of The Pizza Effect. Of course, since everyone went their separate ways, I can’t say what each of them learned from this flash of intimate social experience. But, I definitely know what I took home.

Three pizzas. 1  cheese, 1 pepperoni, and 1 sausage.

More to come…

Murv