BRAINPAN LEAKAGE

Honestly, this is probably one of those “had to be there” sorts of stories… Be that as it may, I’m going to go ahead and tell it. Why? Because I was there. I can’t help it if the rest of you didn’t check your schedules and missed it… So, anyway…

I’m getting up there in years. I’m not what you’d call old, although most of the O-spring’s friends think I am. I’m actually right there at middle age. Just a couple of months shy of that half-century mark, where life really begins. However, as we age, even if we are simply reaching our prime, other bullshit goes on inside us. Things like our immune systems getting tired a little more easily. So, to boost things, we do silly stuff like get flu shots. I know some folks out there who REALLY think it’s silly and refuse to get flu shots at all. More power to them. They just need to stay away from me with their germs, because the simple truth is, nobody is really as immune to common illnesses as they think they are. I guess the long and short of what I am prattling about is this: I get a flu shot every year, and 2011 is no different – especially since I am about to go out of town to a gathering of bunches of people where I will be signing books, shaking hands, and being exposed to all manner of bacterioviralmorphingpowerranger pathogens.

As it happens, the insurance that covers our family is of the sort that covers such immunizations 100%, so I recently headed out to the post office, dropped off some stuff, then continued up the block to the local Walgreen’s and got myself into the queue for a flu shot. As I waited, an older lady possessed of a white cane arrived with a friend, and they got themselves into the queue as well. While we sat waiting – it was a hell of a busy day at the Walgreen’s – I couldn’t help but overhear the older woman talking about how nervous she was, and how she was going to scream when they gave her the shot.

Eventually the pharmacist came out, packing a gihugic hypodermic that looked like a hunk of telephone pole with a sword sticking out of the end… Okay… not really. But I’m pretty sure that’s what the blind lady was imagining. As it happens, I was first up, and it had taken quite a while before the pharmacist had been able to come out to the “inoculation area,” so she was a bit harried about finding a place to give me the injection. You see, oddly enough the blind lady and her friend were sitting behind the blind where they normally do this sort of thing. I told the poor gal to just, “Grab, Stab, and Plunge,” adding. “It’s just a shot, not surgery.”

This elicited a ton of laughs from people who were in line for various things, up to and including more flu shots. However, it’s not the part you had to be there to appreciate.

Upon hearing my comment, the blind lady called out from behind the blind, “I don’t know how you can do it. I’m going to scream like a little girl.”

I replied with a serious question, “Would it help you to feel better if I screamed, too?”

“Maybe,” she said with a nervous chuckle.

Moments later the pharmacist had, in point of fact, Grabbed, Stabbed, and Plunged. Me, not really seeing shots as that big a deal, I didn’t even realize she had done so until she was sticking a band-aid to my arm. I asked, “Oh, so you’re done?”

“Sure am,” she replied.

Not wanting to disappoint the lady on the other side of the blind I said, “Hang on a sec…”

Then I screamed.

Yes.

In the middle of Walgreen’s.

Employees came running, shoppers peeked around the endcaps of nearby aisles, and everyone in the immediate vicinity who had been “in on the joke” burst out laughing – especially the blind lady behind the blind.

On my way out I wished her and her friend a good day. She chuckled and said, “You, too… And thanks for the entertainment…”

Another satisfied customer.

More to come…

Murv

Disclaimers… We’ve all seen and heard them. We’ve all sat back and wondered at the stupidity of people who sue over hot coffee because they hadn’t been told that the hot coffee was hot. Even worse, the stupidity of the jurors in the trial who saw fit to judge in favor of the idiot who didn’t know hot coffee would be… well… HOT.

Then there are the disclaimers we just sort of wonder about, because otherwise we would just burst into uncontrolled laughter… Of course, sometimes we do anyway… You know the ones I mean. “DO NOT USE IN SHOWER” emblazoned across the label on a portable electric hand mixer, as if I might happen to be mixing up some cake batter while I’m washing my hair. Of course, I suppose there could be all manner of kinky ramifications there, but I don’t want to think about that. It makes me feel all kinds of dirty. Even in the shower.

The thing is, you just KNOW they had to put that on there because some frootloop decided it would be a good idea to attach a Loofah to the beaters and use the mixer as a power exfoliation device in the shower. Hence, the disclaimer. What it should REALLY say is, “We know you’re an idiot, here’s your Darwin Award (Posthumously, of course).”

But then, there are those disclaimers that really are necessary. I mean the kind where a boatload of common sense might get you through, but for a multitude of reasons you cannot depend upon Sherlockian Common Sense to be in play. And, there are even those times when people truly have no clue what to expect, therefore a disclaimer is in order.

That’s why I have several. You can see one of them just to the left beneath my picture. It is there to let you know that this is a satire blog and taking it seriously, unless a particular post is labeled as serious, makes you not particularly savvy. After all, it says it right there…

I should make note, however, that among my disclaimers, none of them say “contents hot.” That would be EKay’s disclaimer, (along with may bite, prone to random acts of beating you severely, failure to bow and worship will result in extreme punishment, etc…) – There IS a “contents MAY be hot” in the footer of the blog, but note that it says MAY BE. It pretty much refers to posts where E K is involved…

But let’s get back to me. After all, it’s my blog, not hers… Well… Okay, I just use it… Don’t tell her I said that it was mine, okay? So… anyway… Among my disclaimers is one that I rattle off at the beginning of every workshop I present while at an event or bookstore. If you’ve ever attended one of my seminars it is highly likely you have heard some version of it. I usually ask who hasn’t heard it, but even if I get no hands raised I recite it anyway. It’s just safer for all involved.

So, just for drill, here is my workshop/seminar disclaimer. If you ever attend one of my workshops – not panels, mind you, those are different (although I sometimes work it in) – you will hear this, or the version of it that is current for that moment…

M. R. SELLARS’ DISCLAIMER

First off, I am a fiction author. This means I lie for a living. It’s what I get paid to do. Think about that… Okay, now that you’ve given it some thought, I’ll explain further – I write FICTION. What this means is that 99% of what I am about to say to you is probably bullshit. I’m making it up as I go along. My one goal here is to entertain you for the next 90 minutes and keep you occupied so that the staff of this event can finish preparing lunch [dinner, setting up XYZ, insert function here]. If you plan on taking notes, feel free. Just know that you are most likely transcribing fiction.

Second – I am irreverent.  I am also foul-mouthed when necessary. I know cuss words in several languages and I am not afraid to use them. In fact, they will sometimes just randomly fall out of my mouth, especially if you startle me. If you think this is going to offend you to the point where it is going to ruin your whole day, do us both a favor- get up and leave now. Regarding those last two points – If you sit through my entire workshop after having heard this disclaimer, then go to the event organizer and complain that I have ruined your whole day, I will find you. I don’t think I need to say anymore. Just know that I will find you. So you need to ask yourself if you really want to take that chance. I mean, after all, I warned you. If you get offended it’s your fault now, not mine. As to getting up and leaving, if you elect to do so AFTER I begin the actual workshop, I will make fun of you. The only exceptions to that rule are true medical emergencies. Needing to take a piss because you drank 14 cups of coffee and didn’t make a pit stop before coming in here does NOT qualify.

Third – I tend to not stand still and I talk with my hands. I will likely be right out in the middle of the crowd with you, as well as bouncing around the stage. This is how I get my exercise.

Fourth – I am an interactive speaker. What this means is that at times during this workshop/seminar, depending upon the topic, I am likely to ask you, as a group, a question. If I do this, I expect an answer. Allow me to clarify – I want the answer now. As in during the actual workshop. I do not want you to go home, ruminate about it for two weeks, and then email me an answer. At that point the workshop is over and it does none of us any good. If you don’t answer me at all, understand that I will just make up some more shit and say that you said it.

Fifth – During the next 90 minutes [120 min, 60 min, ??] I will say things that I personally think are funny. I expect you to think they are funny too. If I say something that I find funny and you don’t laugh, I will repeat it. That is your cue. Be on the lookout for it. Why? Because if you don’t laugh when I repeat it, I will then explain it. Believe me, you do NOT want to get as far as me explaining my jokes.

Okay, now that I have that out of the way, are we all in agreement? If not, this is your chance to leave unscathed…

I realize that there are some folks out there who are going to read this and be highly offended. They are going to think that I am a big asshole, probably because it is hard to impart the comic timing of the verbal delivery of this disclaimer via the written word in a short space like a blog. However, there are people who get offended by it in person too, and storm out of my workshop/seminar space in a huff…

You know what? They weren’t going to find me all that entertaining anyway so it’s just as well. I think that’s why their faces are all pinched up and pouty. Or I supposed it could be that they eschew disclaimers, and they are all pinched up and pouty because they take Preparation H orally…

Either way, I’m sure they’ll be picking up their Darwin Awards soon enough…

More to come…

Murv