BRAINPAN LEAKAGE

Well, I suppose that as far as the Chinese food goes it is really about as Chinese as La Choy beef Chow Mein in a can. You know, the Chow Mein you serve with the deep fried noodle things that everyone ends up dipping in chocolate and calling them cookies around the holidays. Yeah, that La Choy. As a matter of fact, I seem to recall their old commercial jingle saying, “La Choy makes Chinese food, swing American!” That was back in the 60’s and 70’s… Yeah, I’m kinda middle aged, don’t remind me. At any rate, with a catch phrase like that, it doesn’t sound all that Chinese I don’t guess. Kinda more Ameri-Asian fusion cuisine. “If you can call Chow Mein from a can cuisine,” I can hear EK saying even as I type. You see, she doesn’t really care for La Choy Chow Mein or any of their other canned meals for that matter. I think it has something to do with having it too often as a child or something. She’s never been very specific about that. She just sort of glazes over and makes her “bleh” face, so I kinda just don’t press the subject.

Me, on the other hand, I happen to like the stuff. Not as a regular diet sort of thing, but every now and then I like to grab a can just for the sake of nostalgia. Kinda like the peanut butter ‘n jelly sammich thing, or egg nog, or even my own personal version of the Saint Paul Sandwich…

But, then, I’m not here to talk to you about La Choy, or any of their products. Funny how I can sometimes digress before I even get started. I should probably see someone about that. Or not.

Anyway, let’s get down to brass tacks. Or “Forever Stamps”, or Postal Workers, or whatever…

You see, I received some snail mail yesterday. I know, seems somewhat antiquated doesn’t it? (Don’t tell my neighbor I said that. He’s a Postal Carrier)… But, even I have to admit, there are still things snail mail is good for. Christmas Cards for one. Checks for another. Well… Checks are pretty much the most important one when you get right down to it, but either way, let’s not get off track yet again. The long and short of it was that I went to the mailbox and there was a number 10 envelope, addressed quite simply to “Sellars”.

Not Murv Sellars. Not Mr. Sellars. Not M. R. Sellars. Not even to Rusty Sellars (long story – since my middle name is Russell and I am a Jr., when I was a kid my dad was Russell and I was Rusty. My name “changed” to Murv when I came into my “own” identity when I hit my early teens, just like every other adolescent child does at that age.)

No, this bit of snail mail was addressed to no one other than simply, “Sellars”.

Some of you may think this odd. Then again, maybe you don’t. I’m not there with you to look inside your ear and see what the gears and cogs are doing. But, suffice it to say, I didn’t find it all that peculiar myself. You see, there are a pretty healthy number of people on the planet who refer to me simply as “Sellars”… In fact, I believe some of you blog readers are among them. I blame Morrison for that, but as I tend to say often, that’s another blog…

However, as far as snail mail goes, there is but one individual (thus far) who sends anything to my house addressed simply to “Sellars”. Even Morrison herself addresses things to M. R. Sellars. Therefore, I didn’t even have to look at the return address to know that I had just received something from Dorothy Morrison’s husband, Mark.

Now, Mark and I are friends. He’s a hell of a guy. Funny, intelligent, not to mention that he’s married to my best friend. I’ve downed several drinks with him, watched Presidential debates with him, and generally just hung out. I love the guy dearly. But, we aren’t exactly what you would call pen pals. If he has something to tell me, he drops me an email. So, if I receive something in the SNAIL mail from him, even though it is addressed to “Sellars”, I know that it isn’t actually for me. It’s for my daughter.

Having a bit of trouble following that one? Well, let me see if I can explain.

You see, like many grammar school children across the United States, my daughter collects “Boxtops For Education” and takes them to school. Now, I’ll admit that I don’t always cook from scratch. I actually do buy a few boxes of burger helper now and again, and the munchkin also likes “Lucky Charms”, which is a General Mills product (creators and purveyors of the Boxtops for Edu program)… So, we do manage to collect our share of these School Funding Gems. But, not a ton of them. (I know, I know, get to the point…) Well, you see, I happened to mention this in passing when Morrison and I were on tour a couple of years back, because we do try to nab boxtops from folks we know who might be unaware and simply throwing them away. And, as it happens, Mark took this to heart. He began collecting boxtops for our munchkin’. In fact, not only does he collect them, he doesn’t even wait for the package of whatever foodstuff to be used first. He goes through with a razor blade and pre-emptively removes the Boxtops for Education seal so that it won’t accidentally end up in the trash. Then, once his “boxtops dish” on the counter is full he pours them into an envelope and mails them to, “Sellars”.

Now, there was once this faux pas where when he poured the boxtops into the envelope the razor blade – still ensconced in its little cardboard sheath – unknowingly made it into the envelope as well. We’ve had plenty of fun with that one. In fact, I still have it sitting here on my desk. Maybe I’ll have it bronzed for him and put it on a plaque… anyone know what it would cost to have a single edge razor blade bronzed and mounted? (Yeah, there I go digressing again…)

So, back to the story. What it comes down to is that once again, Mark came through with a load of Boxtops for Education. Not only is this good for the school because they turn them in to General Mills for money, which in turn helps them do things like build a new Gymnasium, or get more books, and what have you, but it is also good for the kids. Why? Because they benefit from the books, new Gym, etc, obviously. But, it is also great for my kid on yet another front. Not only does she reap the educational benefit, but since they run a bit of a Boxtops for Education contest at her school, it helps her numbers. In fact, last year she turned in so many boxtops that she won this Gi-Hugic blue dolphin stuffed animal (the school mascot)…

BTW, if you don’t have kids, or don’t happen to know any kids who need Boxtops for Education, and you are merely tossing them in the trash, I’ll gladly give you my PO Box address and you can send them to “Sellars” just like Mark does. (Please DO NOT send razor blades…) Just think, the munchkin might win another blue dolphin. If she keeps it up, she might end up with a whole pod…

So…That pretty much covers snail mail and boxtops. I’m sure you are now thinking, “Yeah, okay, so what about the Chinese food, because you said you weren’t here to talk about La Choy…”

Well… You’re right about that. La Choy isn’t the Chinese food you’re looking for… Move along… (sorry, Obi-wan… Just couldn’t help myself…)

Anyway, I suppose I should explain the Chinese food reference in the blog title. You see, it has to do with Spam™…

Okay, so did anyone hurt his or her neck with the whole snapping back of the head in a major WTF moment? I hope not, because I don’t have insurance on this blog…

Yeah. Spam™… You see, I’ve never made a secret of my love for Spam™…and it’s equally tasty and much less expensive twin, Treet™. In fact, ever since my Spam™/Treet™ blog some time ago, I have been treated (pun most certainly intended) to fried Spam™ for breakfasts at various events and bookstores where I have been booked for a signing. I’ve had Spam™ sandwiches for lunch. Spam™ in salads. I mean, it’s been downright wonderful, because yes, I really do like Spam™. But, as you can imagine, (as you might be one of these folks of whom I speak) many people find this little culinary quirk of mine endlessly amusing. In fact, some of the times I have been served Spam™ at events it has been as a joke. Well, I have to tell you, that’s my kind of joke so keep on joking and laughing folks. I’m all about it… (Grin)

Anyway, among the folks who find this amusing are Morrison and her husband Mark.

“But, Sellars, just what in the holy hell does this have to do with Chinese food,” you ask, with a befuddled and somewhat annoyed expression creasing your features.

So glad you asked…

You see, this time, instead of just Boxtops arriving in the mail for my daughter, there actually WAS something in the envelope for me. No, it wasn’t another razor blade… Actually it was a recipe, clipped from the newspaper.

A recipe for Spam™ Fried Rice.

Really. I kid you not.

And, just in case you think I am making this up, here is a picture of the actual and very real newspaper clipping…

Thanks, Mark. I can’t wait to try it out… In fact, I have a can of Treet™ sitting in the cupboard right now, and I’m sure the author of the recipe won’t mind the substitution since those tasty, rectangular can shaped blocks of chicken and pork leavin’s are completely interchangeable.

And, you know…just for nostalgia’s sake, I think I’ll use La Choy soy sauce…

More to come…

Murv

Some of you may remember me reporting on the graphic and horrendous Barbie Murders some time back. Actually, it was a Ken murder, but Barbie was a person of interest in the investigation. If you missed it, here is a link to help you get caught up:

Barbie Murders Part 1 (aka – Solving Murders At Home… August, 27 2008)

Well, anyway, after next to no media attention whatsoever (due to the election, I assume) and a low budget investigation (read: me, a scratched magnifying glass, and a couple of notes scribbled in crayon) I think there has been a break in the case.

Actually, this all happened quite by accident, as many breaks in cases do. No one called to rat out Babs or anything, but let’s just say I happened to be in the right place at the right time.

You see, at 5:07 AM, Friday, November 14, 2008, I was roused from my slumber by an intense feeling. A feeling that was demanding in no uncertain terms my immediate and undivided attention. At first my heart began to race as adrenalin dumped into my system, but within a matter of seconds it became apparent that the sensation was, in fact, my bladder telling me to get to the bathroom post haste. (Hey, I never said there was anything supernatural about the sensation.)

So, anyway, I dragged myself from beneath the covers and stumbled down the stairs. A quick detour allowed me to go ahead and flip the switch on the coffee pot in the kitchen before backtracking and hitting the bathroom. After “taking care of business” I set about washing my hands and happened to notice something from the corner of my eye. Being the highly trained investigator that I am, I finished with my sanitizing operation then dried my digits, lest any moisture on my hands destroy or contaminate evidence.

As I had done weeks before, I pulled back the shower curtain. I had to stare for a while, and even squint a bit, as I was doing all this sans glasses (or even scratched magnifying glass for that matter)…

What I saw was so damning that I felt the need to go get my glasses just to be sure I was making no mistakes.

After obtaining my spectacles I returned to the scene, magnifying glass and crayon in hand. My corrected vision served only to show me what I had thought I had seen to begin with.

Ken, still extremely corpsified, now had his little plastic head jammed firmly back onto his shoulders. So firmly in fact that he really no longer had a neck. But, since he’s dead I don’t suppose he really needs one, so I guess it is a moot point… However, I digress… So, Ken – all dead and stuff – was now sprawled face down on the tile with a “Hello Kitty” washcloth draped over his rigid body. (I assume the coroner was out of sheets and body bags, and therefore just used the first available thing.)

Now, this was interesting enough in itself. I mean, weeks have passed and the body still hadn’t been moved, not to mention the reattachment of the head. But the primary reason I had rushed for my glasses was what I had seen sitting mere inches from lifeless corpse of the victim. You see, initially I had thought I might be suffering from double vision, for no longer was there simply Babs sitting there looking upon Dead Ken with a look of satisfaction. There were now two Barbies hanging out at the crime scene. What was worse is that they were both wearing the same sparkly blue bathing suit.

Upon bespectacled inspection, however, I discovered that the newcomer was a redhead, whereas Babs from the original scene was a brunette. And there they were… Both of them. But, that’s not all…dare I say it…yes, I dare. You see, they were just a bit entangled with one another, if you know what I mean…

At this juncture, the prevailing theory is that Babs got tired of Ken the Eunuch and decided to explore her wild side, thereby hooking up with Evil Redheaded Babs at a local bar. Before long it simply became a classic love triangle…and, well…we all know what can happen with those. Redheaded Babs, what with redheads being evil and all, likely convinced her new found love that it would be a good idea to be rid of Ken the Eunuch once and for all… And there you have it. A crime of passion. Pretty Poison all rolled into a redhead and a brunette.

Babs-B and her girlfriend Babs-R have now been detained for questioning. I had to borrow handcuffs from the Miranda action figure on my desk, but I don’t think she’ll miss them. She had plenty. Right now the two detainees aren’t saying much, but they do keep smiling an awful lot. Just can’t seem to wipe the smirks off their perfect little faces.

Funeral arrangements for Ken are on hold until someone claims the body. I get the feeling we could be waiting quite a while…

More to come…

Murv