BRAINPAN LEAKAGE

Literally.

Why would I lie about something like that?

… And yes, I do realize that right now you are all sitting there chanting, “Murv’s gonna get it… Murv’s gonna get it…”

Normally, I would agree with you, but go back to the beginning and read again what I wrote… I’m fairly certain I typed in the word, literally. As in, E K is a literal pain in my ass. Not figurative. Not metaphorical. Nope. None of that dancing about and implied torture. No husbandly lamenting about a wife’s wifeliness. We are talking about the real deal here…

I mean to say, the woman literally caused pain and physical damage to my Gluteus Maximus.

Uh-huh… I know… Now all of you are sitting there saying, “So what? You’re talking about E K. Since you say she’s so evil then she probably just tied you up and spanked you or something like that. Big deal. Just roll with it you big baby.” (On that note – The cartoon on the right is just for you “perverted types,” BTW… )

Well, though it is apparently titillating for all of you to imagine such a scenario, otherwise you probably wouldn’t be imagining it… Hey…. Hey! Yeah, you. Stop staring at the cartoon and pay attention.

Okay… so where was I? Oh yeah… As I was saying, such graphic details might be a little too much info for a relatively PG rated blog like Brainpan Leakage… And, for the record, I am now firmly convinced that y’all have dirtier minds than I do… Especially you… Yeah, you in the back row. The one that keeps staring and drooling at the cartoon… It’s a friggin’  PG rated cartoon for Gods sake… Sheesh… For shame… For shame…

So, anyway, let’s set the record straight right here and now… E K did not spank me. Well… Not in this particular case anyway. (There, did that little bit of innuendo satisfy your prurient curiosity, or just pique it? Yeah… I thought as much, ya’ bunch of sickos… When you’re all done drooling over the silly cartoon, we can continue…)

(Jeopardy thinking music)

Okay, are we all done? Finally… Good…

So now that we’ve dispensed with the mental foreplay, we’ll move on already…

We’ve established that no spankings were had. The simple fact is that this is an entirely different kind of literal pain in the ass. And, it is also one that reaches far back into history. So, since the whole nostalgia approach of the “marriage blog” mini-series seemed to go over so well, I figured y’all might like to hear this story too. So, let’s all jump into the wayback machine and have a look at this particular, and annoyingly painful, slice of my past… (Yeah, you too… Yeah you… I don’t care… You can page back up and look at the cartoon again when we’ve finished the story… Sheesh… You don’t get out much, do you?)

Okay… On with the sordid tale…

The year was nineteen and eighty six…  E K and I had met by this point, and were more or less in the midst of doing that coy, flirty thing that accompanies the first three months of dating. You know what I mean…

For men it’s crap like: Getting a haircut. Making sure your shirt isn’t wrinkled. Actually tying your necktie in a Full Windsor instead of a Half, but only after making doubly sure it actually matches your shirt and slacks. Using aftershave and maybe even a bit of cologne… Holding your farts in until you are in the next county and downwind so that the object of your affection will never know…

For women it’s crap like: Shaving your legs regularly. Wearing a shorter skirt and higher heels than you normally would on your average workday.  A push up bra. Fancy jewelry… Holding your farts in until you are in the next county and downwind so that the object of your affection will never know…

Y’all know the drill… Typical, flirty – datey stuff.

On the particular day in question, E K arrived at our place of employment, all decked out in a nice blouse, blazer, shape hugging slacks, and the high heels that were a bit too high for your average work day… The pumps were a dead giveaway that she was being flirty, because:

1. She had service calls to take and was going to be on her feet, digging around behind printers, kneeling, bending over, and all of the other gyrations that come along with taking a service call. (For the record, it’s actually pretty good exercise.)
2. She had VERY RECENTLY uncovered my particular affinity for shapely female legs and high heels. (It bears mentioning that being the absolutely brilliant femme fatale she is, The Evil Redhead has used this information to her benefit on countless occasions, ever since making the discovery.)

The only thing missing from the overall package was the shorter than normal skirt, but see #1. She had to compromise somewhere along the line, and like I said, the slacks were definitely figure flattering…

Okay… I need some alone time now…

Just kidding. Well, not really, but I have too much to do and I need to finish this story…

In keeping with the flirty stuff, E K had some tasteful jewelry on to accentuate here and there. Of course, being incredibly practical as well, one of the jewelry items was a fancy little diskette lapel pin. I mean, after all, she’s a technician, so she needed to have herself some technician jewelry, right? And, yes, the picture here is of the actual pin in question. As amazing as it may seem, she still has it after all these years. Granted, it may look a bit odd to you youngsters who have never seen a 5 1/4 inch floppy diskette in real life, but that is exactly what it was patterned after. BTW, Sorcim / IUS was a software company. They were the “publisher” of a widely used, DOS Based program called SuperCalc. If I remember correctly, the lapel pin itself was a gimme type perk she received for attending a Sorcim seminar.

So, anyway, enough rambling on about ancient technology being transformed into jewelry. Let’s get back to this particular day in history…

E Kay’s truck… Yes, my dear and lovely used to drive a truck…  Anyway, her truck was going to be in the shop for some routine maintenance, which effectively left her without wheels, but she still needed to take service calls. Unfortunately, the outfit we were working for at the time, TC Service, didn’t have company vehicles for us to use. So, in order that my lovely be able to take her scheduled service calls, I loaned her my car. As it happened, said vehicle was the Mustang LX I was desperately trying to pay off… Yeah, that’s one of those, “another stories,” but if you read the “Mahwage” series of entries, you know what I mean.

So, after a bit of flirting and lustful stirrings brought about by E K in high heels purposely reaching for things behind her desk while standing in front of it, if you know what I’m saying, I sent her on the road with parts, tools, and my car. After that, the day continued in a relatively uneventful fashion. I configured a few Leading Edge PC’s, fixed a printer or two, answered some tech support calls… The usual crap… The Evil One completed her service calls and returned, both she and my car completely unscathed. Life was good.

As it happened, that evening was filled with “other obligations,” so E K and I were not going to be able to spend it together. Not exactly the best situation, given the fact that she had purposely lit my fuse, so to speak, but hey, stuff happens. Of course, we did the flirty-flirty thing through the afternoon, and retrieved her truck from the shop, then when quitting time rolled around, stole a few kisses before going our separate directions for the evening.

I hopped into my car, and at a point somewhere around halfway home, I felt a very sudden, very sharp, very intense pain in my right butt cheek. If I remember correctly, I even let out a yelp.  It was reminiscent of being nailed by a bee. Since it happened to be late summer, I assumed this was a real possibility.  Something else I considered was a cherry from a cigarette. At the time I was a smoker, so I had to wonder if I had inadvertently knocked the fire from the end of a smoke while shifting gears or some such.

Well, of course, I reached down and felt about in the seat while hiking myself up onto my left hip and dancing around in a circle, all while trying to keep the car in between the dashed lines dividing the lanes on I-170. However, no matter how much feeling about in the seat, or on my own ass I did, I found nothing.

Still, the pain continued.

Well… I have to admit, I have a fairly high pain tolerance. I’m not at all sure from whence it originates, but I can actually take a lot of abuse… Just ask E K… But, let’s not go there again… Seriously, though, I really do have a fairly high tolerance for pain, so since I couldn’t find the source I decided my best bet was to just ignore it. Besides, at this point, the initial shock of the pain was fading and it had settled down to a dull ache. The ache was making its way into the background as well, so I figured I’d be all good. Eventually, it would just go away.

And it did. For the most part, anyway. I mean, there remained a minor ache and soreness throughout the rest of the evening, but nothing anywhere near as intense as the initial stab of pain.

Life rocked on, I met my various obligations, and even had a quick chat or two with E K on the phone, just because I couldn’t stand to be away from her for more than an hour at a stretch unless I was unconscious. The evening grew late and eventually it was time to hit the sack. Following my regular routine, I emptied my pockets, then started getting undressed so I could go to bed. About the time I undid my pants and went to pull them off, I discovered that they seemed to be hung up somewhere around the right side of my ass. As in, they wouldn’t come off. At about the exact instant I started to tug on them a bit, the pain that had earlier ravaged my butt cheek exploded forth once more.

Now I was hopping about on one leg, cussing, and about to trip over my half-removed britches. Fearing that I was going to perform a flawless face plant on the floor, I twisted around and perched myself on the corner of my waterbed side rails, and rolled up onto my left hip. Reaching back and feeling around, through the fabric of the pants, my fingers now came into contact with a small lump on my rear, right about where my wallet had been residing earlier. Perplexed, I slipped my hand into my hip pocket and felt around some more. Within seconds I had hold of the offending object and pulled, much like the whole mouse yanking the thorn out of the lion’s paw scenario. Except, it was just me doing the yanking, and the paw in this case was my ass.

When I brought my hand up into the light, besides a bit of blood, I also found a gold, diskette shaped, lapel pin pinched between my fingers.

The next morning, when E K strolled into work, I waited for her to park herself at her desk, which was nearby and facing mine. After exchanging some flirty good mornings, I raised an eyebrow and asked, “So, were you trying to make sure I didn’t forget you last night?”

She furrowed her brow and cocked her head to the side. “What do you mean?”

I pushed back from my desk, stood, took the few steps in her direction, and then dropped the lapel pin on the desk blotter in front of her.

“Oh, I was wondering where I lost that!” she exclaimed. “Where did you find it?”

I shook my head. “You probably don’t want to know.”

I did eventually tell her, of course. A few minutes later, in fact. However, looking back on it now, that was probably a mistake in and of itself. You see,  it was at that point in our relationship that she became aware of my higher than normal tolerance for pain, and she has been trying to find my breaking point ever since…

But seriously… All joking and silliness aside, I think you can now see why I can truthfully say that, “E K is a real pain in my ass…”

More to come…

Murv

If you follow me on Twitter, you already know that sometime early Thursday morning 4/2, I lamented the fact that according to the national weather service, a blizzard is supposed to hit Wayne, NE this weekend. Why would I worry about a blizzard in Wayne, NE? Well, because as I write this I am sitting on the floor outside my gate at the Minneapolis-St. Paul airport, on my way to Wayne… Now, I won’t be able to actually post this until I arrive at my destination (via Sioux City, IA BTW – Airport code SUX… yeah, no kidding.) I can’t post this yet because it seems that airports have done away with free wi-fi and are now charging 8 bucks for a couple of hours. I don’t need it that bad… What I need is a Crackberry….

Either way, I had intended to tweet along, letting y’all know what was going on as I embarked on this odyssey to be Guest of Honor at WillyCon XI, the Wayne State College SF/Fantasy convention. However, I have obviously been thwarted in that respect.

So…This first leg of my journey will be compressed here as a randomly entered journal of pseudo tweets… My personal hashtag for this will be #fuckme… I will also be adding psuedo tweets from others who had a direct influence on my trip, but didn’t even know they were tweeting:

@mrsellars – Fuck me. Lambert airport is charging for Wi-Fi. No tweets till I make it to Minneapolis.

@mrsellars – Why is the turbine on the left engine going whocka-whocka-whocka-thumpa-whap?

@mrsellars – How many hamsters does it take to make that turbine turn so fast?

@flight_attendant – We use guinea pigs on this plane.

@mrsellars – Okay, I’ll bite. How many guinea pigs?

@flight_attendant – Fasten your seatbelt sir.

@flight_attendant_#2 – Wah wah wah, nah wahm nah wah…nom.

@mrsellars – Damn… She sounds like the adults on a Charlie Brown cartoon.

@flight_attendant – Coffee?

@mrsellars – Yes, please.

@mrsellars – Roller coaster turbulence over Iowa. My theory? Rising gases from a cloud of cow farts.

@mrsellars – May I have some more coffee?

@flight_attendant – I think you’ve had quite enough sir.

@mrsellars – On ground in Minneapolis. Texted E K. Now sitting and waiting for gate to be free.

@mrsellars – Damn! The universe apparently knows I missed my morning walk. Arrived gate F12 – connection at gate A11. Walkies!

@mrsellars – Still 3 hours before I can board egg beater express bound for Sioux City. ½ cup of Fiber One at 6AM now wearing off. Need food.

@mrsellars – Nothing here. Food court ½ mile back the way I came. Walkies!

@mrsellars – Quizno’s line around block. Employees moving in slow motion. Stomach not happy.

@mrsellars – Caribou coffee across the way. Going there.

@mrsellars – Consumed not so stellar 2 dollar roast turkey wrap with 1 dollar 11 oz beverage that had blue green algae in it. Total cost $11.05.

@mrsellars – Floor show during lunch. Captain Important paced back and forth in front of me yelling into his bluetooth headset. Impressive.

@mrsellars – Walkies! Now back at gate. No seats available. Crap. I’ll sit over here on the floor.

@mrsellars – Okay. Now I’ll tweet for a bit.

@mrsellars – FUCK ME! Minneapolis charges for Wi-Fi too!

@mrsellars – Fuggit. I’ll write it on word and post it as a blog later.

@mrsellars – Damn! How far up do her legs go? Interesting view from down here on the floor.

@mrsellars – Shit (or :poopie: for the Bitten by Books chatroom crowd.) My foot fell asleep.

@mrsellars – Aha! People going to Ohio are boarding. Now’s my chance for a seat in the waiting area.

@mrsellars – Missing my desk chair. It’s a hell of a lot more comfortable than this one.

@Gate_Attendant – Sir… Sir! Are you on this flight to Ohio?

@mrsellars – no ma’am.

@Gate_Attendant – Are you sure?

@mrsellars – Well, no, I don’t guess I am. I just told your ticket agent to give me a boarding pass for a random flight. Maybe I should look.

@Gate_Attendant – Why are you wearing shorts? It’s 30 degrees outside.

@mrsellars – It’s complicated. You see, I have a condition.

@Blond_Gate_Agent – Yah…Yah…I doo, don’tcha know…Yah…

@Original_Gate_Agent – Yah, yah… I doo too, yah’know… Yew betcha…

@mrsellars – Yep. I’m definitely in Minnesota.

@mrsellars – Holy crap… I don’t think I’ve ever seen this much “A Prairie Home Companion” hair all in one place my entire life.

@mrsellars – I didn’t even know they could still do those hairstyles. I wonder how many curlers they used on that one…

@mrsellars – They just started up one of the egg beaters. I can still identify individual blades on the prop even though the engine is screaming like a banshee.

@mrsellars – Wait… I can see the pilot through the windscreen…

@mrsellars – Reading the pilot’s lips – I think I can, I think I can…

@mrsellars – Might need to go back for coffee. Another ½ mile. Getting workout today.

@mrsellars – I haz a headache. Battery on notebook running low. Might need to find an outlet.

@mrsellars – Went about ¼ mile. Came across machine that sells coffee for a dollar. Decided to give it a try.

@mrsellars – Punched in 1 F 3 for what was supposed to be a Butterfinger Latte.

@mrsellars – Got 6 F 6 instead – year old pencil shavings strained through one of E Kay’s stockings with lukewarm water and a hint of rancid honey.

@mrsellars – Don’t ask me how I know what E Kay’s stockings taste like. I won’t tell you.

@mrsellars – How far is it from F12 to A11?

@Another_Gate_Agent – A little over two miles.

@mrsellars – Srsly?

@Another_Gate_Agent – Yah.

@mrsellars – Yep. Got my exercise.

@cellphone – Boopee Doopee Doopee Dooooo Ahhhh Boopee…

@mrsellars – Hello?

@EK – Hi.

[Rest of conversation censored due to graphic depictions of @mrsellars imagination along with sappy woodja-woodja lovey stuff…]

@mrsellars – Still have headache. Took aspirin. Noticed that people in Minnesota have apparently never seen a man wearing shorts before.

@mrsellars – Another hour plus left before the egg beater express flits me off to Sioux City. Hear they have Fly SUX T-shirts for sale. MUST have one…

@mrsellars – Srsly. It’s a moral imperative.

@mrsellars – Gate change. Oh joy… Not.

@mrsellars – Apparently Minnesotans are also AFRAID to SPEAK to a man wearing shorts.

@mrsellars – Thought I just saw Maurice Minnifield from Northern Exposure…

@mrsellars – No, not the actor. The REAL Maurice Minnifield…

@mrsellars – Damn! Rest of the passengers caught on to the gate change, and followed me over here. So much for a peaceful flight.

@mrsellars – Imagining E K wearing [CENSORED]

@mrsellars – {Bored Sigh}

@mrsellars – Wondering if @PaulCooked ever got that badger off his head…

@mrsellars – Pretty sure I just saw Kenny Rogers working on the ground crew. Must be paying off “Gambler” debts. (Ha! I kill me!)

@mrsellars – Guy with HUGE ASS headphones staring at me. Kinda freaky.

@mrsellars – Egg beater express got upgraded. Now flying on Estes model rocket. Hope the nose cone doesn’t suddenly fall off. Don’t wanna land using a plastic parachute.

@passenger – I’m supposed to sit in that seat next to you.

@mrsellars – Okay, but the flight is only half full and the flight attendant said sit anywhere you want.

@passenger – My ticket says I’m supposed to sit in that seat next to you.

@mrsellars – Are you just dying to sit next to me or something?

@passenger – But… But… My ticket says I’m supposed to sit in that seat next to you.

@mrsellars – Okay, “Sheldon”, how about if I move and let you have that seat.

@passenger – But, but… Doesn’t your ticket say you are supposed to sit here?

@mrsellars – No, “Sheldon”… My ticket says general seating. It’ll be okay…

@Flight_Attendant – Coffee?

@mrsellars – Yes, please.

@Flight_Attendant – Cream and sugar?

@mrsellars – Is the coffee really THAT bad?

@Flight_Attendant – Fasten your seatbelt sir.

And, now I’m here, and life is getting back to normal. Well, as normal as it can be for an old guy on a college campus, anyway…

More to come…

Murv