BRAINPAN LEAKAGE

E K is evil. We all know that. Those of you who don’t have any first hand experience in that area will simply have to take my word for it. Trust me, it’s better that way. Save yourselves, escape while you can. Don’t even look back, there’s no hope for me at this point. Really. Just leave me and get out of here before she catches you.

Okay… Now that you are safe I can continue… Seeing as E K is pure, unadulterated evil, as well as a ruthless secret agent who makes Jack Bauer look like a pantywaist, (see: Kay… E Kay…), The Evil One is generally armed for bear whenever she leaves the house.

You know, all the standard lethal force, 007/CTU killing and torturing kind of stuff – stiletto heels with real stilettos, poison lipstick, exploding PDA, miniature rocket launching mascara, electrocuting cell phone, .40 caliber hairbrush, etc… Yeah, the whole nine yards.

Now, since her top secret cover is that of a soccer mom, she drives a heavily armored mini-van that has its own rocket launchers behind the headlights, ejection seats, special cubbyholes for hiding bodies, machine guns in the fender wells, and it can even drive underwater.

Still, my dear and lovely is a hands on kind of killer woman. Something about liking to be up close and personal with her victims before stomping the life out of them. Like I said, she’s evil…and cruel…extremely cruel. I mean, we don’t call her E K for nothing.

At any rate, since she likes the hands on approach, in her soccer mom mobile, she carries a miniature Louisville Slugger. Yeah, exactly… A small, wooden, novelty baseball bat. From what I gather, she uses it to render her victims unconscious before she tapes them to a chair and tortures them. (Yeah, she carries several rolls of duct tape too. Go figure.)

So… The other day we had occasion to do a bit of shopping – grocery shopping, in fact. After all, an active assassin woman like E K has to eat balanced, healthy meals and such, so that she can stay in top form. Well, after we climbed out of the armored urban assault vehicle disguised as a soccer mom mobile, and I was rolling the sliding door shut – I severely wrenched my shoulder from muscling all that armor sideways, btw – I happened to notice her pint sized noggin knocker laying on the floor next to the offspring’s rear seat. Now, I happened to know that this wasn’t the secret hiding place for this particular piece of weaponry, so I pointed at it and asked the munchkin, “What are you doing with that?”

To which she replied, “I think it’s cute.”

Hey, she’s nine. Right now, in her world, just about everything is “cute”, except for the boys at her school and asparagus.

“Well, that’s fine, but it belongs to Mommy,” I told her.

For whatever reason, that idea didn’t sit well with her. As we started across the parking lot, the short person turned to E K and said, “You don’t need a bat, Mommy.”

Since we are trying to keep E Kay’s secret agent status a secret from the offspring right now, but also trying not to make a habit of lying to her, I piped up and said, “Sure she does. She has it for emergencies.”

“Yes I do,” E K agreed, then decided to expand upon the comment with an explanation. Unfortunately, she must have been receiving an urgent encoded message on her microwave transmitter dental work at that same instant that effectively diverted her attention, because what ended up tumbling from her lips was, “I have it in case I need to beat someone off.”

Yeah… Trust me, we were both thinking exactly what you are thinking right now…

And, because I was thinking the same thing you are thinking, I couldn’t help but snicker. Really… I simply couldn’t help myself. And, I was safe from retribution for it because neither could E K. Had we been drinking at the time there would have been a mess to clean up, know what I mean?

Of course, our stifled laughs were definitely preceded by one of those  split second, heart stopping, “Oh shit, that definitely came out wrong” moments. I’m sure the dropped-jaw, wide-eyed, deer-in-headlights expressions we both wore in that instant were utterly priceless. Too bad we didn’t have a camera handy. Fortunately, the unintended euphemism went right over the offspring’s head – literally and figuratively.

I have no idea what Freud would have made of the comment, especially since E K was wearing blue jeans at the time and no slip was involved.  Still, sometimes a cigar is just a cigar, and a faux pas is just a faux pas. Still, as we entered the store I made the mistake of saying, “That’s definitely blog material.”

E K just sighed and said, “Why is everything blog material?”

“Because it’s funny,” I answered.

I didn’t catch all of her reply, mainly because she seemed to be mumbling to herself. Still, I’m pretty sure I heard something about needing to find a place to hide my body.

More to come…

Murv

Hi.

My name is Murv, and I’m a “Twitterer”… Or a Tweep… Or Tweeple… Or Twipple… Or, maybe just a Twit. Who the hell really knows? I’ve seen so many monikers applied to folks who spend time on Twitter, that I’m pretty much lost. All I can really say is that you’ll notice that I didn’t say I was a Twitterholic. Because I’m not. Recovering or otherwise.

Yes, I do have an account on Twitter, and I do have a tendency to use it. Primarily I do this for purpose of alerting folks to new blog entries… In fact, there’s probably a Tweet floating around out in the ether about this very blog post. How weird is that? But, my point is, I really just use it to update folks about really important crap. Like the aforementioned blog post thing… Fiery balls of molten rock falling from the sky… Whether or not I am out of Braunschweiger… Whether or not to call 9-1-1 when E K is beating me… Like I said… Important crap.

But, yeah. I spend a little time there. And, since I do that, I also follow some folks too. I mean, hey, why play follow the leader if you’re always the leader. It gets a little boring. Sometimes it’s nice to follow someone else for a change.

However, this is where I started noticing things about “Twitter People”…

First off… There are definitely some -aholic’s out there. How do I know this? When I check my page in the evening and there are 487 tweets from @MisterSpankMe or some such… This is on the heels of 1792 tweets from him throughout the day. Okay, so he’s a little busy… But then, when I check it in the morning while having coffee, I log in to find another 3653 tweets from, yeah, you guessed it – @MisterSpankMe… Apparently his “Mistress” is into torture by sleep deprivation, because the dude hasn’t yet been to sleep. What’s more, he’s still tweeting his little heart out. In fact, 15 more tweets show up within the span of time I type “Good Morning All” and hit send.

Well…Actually I never type “Good Morning All”… That’s a little too generic for me. I like to greet the day with something amusing. Usually about coffee. You know, things like:

And when my hand opened the third seal, I heard the bean say come and see. I beheld and lo a black liquid; the name of which was Coffee…

Or…

Coffee is great, coffee is good, let us thank it for our mood…

But then, you all know I can only be serious when A) Writing a book or B) Ummm… Well… I can’t really get into that here…

Still, ya’know, if being a Twitterholic is your thing, more power to you… BTW, I should take this opportunity to point out that I made up  the ID @MisterSpankMe for the purposes of this blog post. If there is someone out there who actually goes by this handle, well, I neither follow him, nor is he following me, so no harm no foul. It’s all kind of one of those “names were changed to protect the addicted” sort of things…

But, this tiny, pale blue bird thing is not all that I’ve noticed. You see, a lot of these folks “follow chickens” even more than me. Yeah… I think maybe they have Twitter Attention Deficit Disorder – or as we like to call it here in the lab, TADD… You know, as in, “@MisterSpankMe is a TADD bit off his game today…” or “That was just a TADD silly, don’t you think, @SillyBastard?” (Yeah, I made up @SillyBastard too. Same disclaimer applies.)

So, anyway, this TADD thing… Those of you who have had any sort of brush with Twitterpation are probably aware of the “@ reply” tag. For those of you who aren’t, it is a process by which you direct your tweet at someone. Yes, you can do a private message, but if you just want to make a comment to someone publicly, as you would at say, a crowded party, you just put an @ symbol followed by the persons handle, then type the message.

I bring this up because I think the @ symbol may well be the source of the infection. You see, folks end up with so many @ replies flying across their screens, all interspersed with the plethora of tweets from @MisterSpankMe, that they end up following a whole coop full of chickens at once.

I’ve only a small amount of experience with it myself, but it seems almost like trying to pat your head and rub your belly at the same time, all while Caleigh dancing, chewing gum, and threading a needle.

Kind of like the epitome of TMI… You just can’t keep up.

Oh well… Maybe it’s just because I’m too old. It could be that this whole Twitter thing is really meant for the youngsters. I guess I’ll stick to my coffee commentaries and blog posts…

Now, if you’ll be so kind to excuse me, @GibsonGirl is @tweeting me about @Framistat posting to #wingnuts #monkeybrains via tweetberry, and she wants me to look at tinyurl/XiPL&/WoyQ because twitterpic is down. And, of all things this is going on while @SkippyHead and @CaptainObvious are adding her to #followfriday and sending me a direct message about it… Can you imangine?

All I know is that I really don’t want to miss my chance to @LOL before the screen is full.

More to come…

Murv

Note: All @names in this post are intended as fictional handles, and are the product of my incredibly warped brain. If someone out there actually uses one of these, well, sorry about that. Fellow “Twits” can follow me at twitter.com/mrsellars. Just try not to follow too closely. I make frequent stops and wide right turns.