BRAINPAN LEAKAGE

We’re about to have a problem… A BIG one. As in, Cat on a Stick.

As most of you know, we tend to rescue animals. Cats, in particular. Now, while we haven’t been taking any in for several years now, we recently ended up in a situation where we DID take in a half-drowned, flea-bitten, six-week old, somewhat feral kitten rescued from a highway post flash-flood.

E K and I wanted to call him ARK (Almost Road Kill) because the person who picked him up actually saw him nearly get hit by a car. When I say nearly, I mean the kitten was literally pummeled by the rush of air from the vehicle’s tires as it screamed by on the highway. In fact, the person picking him up thought that he actually HAD been hit. As it turned out, he hadn’t. Good thing too, because there wasn’t much of him there to hit… As it turns out, the o-spring sort of adopted him for her own, so she named him Tiger. Me, I just call him “Nachos El Tigre” or, more recently, “You #$@@^&* SH*THEAD!”

Why? Because the little bastage has taken to playing under my desk. Now, it’s already bad enough that I’m getting kitten needle claws stuck in my legs, but that’s not the BIG issue. The BIG issue is that he has discovered the cords on the back of my computer.

Actual pic of Sh*thead "killing" the feather on a stick...

And he plays with them…

And he unplugs them…

Or he jumps up and down on the UPS until he lands on the button…

Know what happens?

My system shuts down. Unceremoniously. Without warning. WITH extreme prejudice. Killing and corrupting files that I have open.

Fortunately, he hasn’t destroyed a manuscript yet. Besides, I keep those backed up all over the place so we should be safe.

But I’m here to tell you, if the little sh*t messes up any of my “pR0N”, he’s toast… Just kidding. I back that up too… 😉

More to come…

Murv

The 3/4 of a cool grand all started with an unnaturally perky, raven-haired hottie, a really sharp looking pair of hooker shoes, and the promise of an extended lap dance I would never forget – nor would anyone else for that matter, what with it being executed smack dab in the middle of a VFW Hall…

But, before I can really get into that part, I have to give you the background story, or none of it will make the least bit of sense.

You see, I woke up Tuesday last, that being the 15th of March, two-thousand eleven, with a sore throat, an earache, and the sniffles. Initially, I was hoping that the mask of my CPAPian nose hose had merely shifted in the middle of the night, causing me to mouth breathe, snore, and all sorts of other nasty things that would cause such a morning ailment. I was hoping for this because if it was the case, I would be over it very quickly, and considering that on the 17th I had to climb aboard a rocket-propelled cattle car bound for Texas, I really didn’t want to be sick.

Alas, such was not the case for me. By that afternoon I was running a fever of 101, and by Wednesday I was in full blown sinus hell, near laryngitis, and pushing the mercury securely beyond the 102 hash mark. When Thursday rolled around, I really wasn’t any better, although my fever had dropped into the 100 plus range. Instead of hiding from the world – which is exactly what I felt like doing – I went ahead and doped myself up, stuffed 35 pounds of sugar free cough drops into my carry-on backpack, and boarded the plane. However, I left my blue suede shoes behind. (I’d give folks two points for getting that reference, but all it means is that they are old like me…)

Keeping to myself, not speaking to anyone unless absolutely necessary, and stifling my cough by chain-sucking cough drops, I rode the first sardine can to DFW, and the Airborne Eggbeater to Killeen, Texas. Why? Because that’s where the Sisters of the Earth and Sea are, and just as importantly where OstaraFest 2011 was taking place. And, since I was a guest speaker, I kind of needed to be there…

Lolly (L), Joyce (R) with their 2010 COVR Retailer of the Year Award

Joyce (Sister Sea) and Lolly (Sister Earth) picked me up at the 6 gate eggbeater terminal, then shuttled me back to Joyce’s house where I was going to be crashing for a few days. Sister Sea, being a Chemist, Mathematician, and all around great gal, proceeded to doctor me with an herbal tincture concoction she calls “Skunk Jooce” (note: that’s MY spelling on the Juice. It just seems to add a little more mystery in MHO) and an herbal decoction called “Healer Tea.” Apparently the “Healer Tea” is widely known to induce eye-watering, sneezing, and to clear sinuses simply by coming within three feet of it while brewing. Srsly. I saw it nearly take out Joyce and Lolly right where they stood.

Me? I couldn’t even smell it. That’s when Joyce decided that I wasn’t just sick, I was “mostly dead.” It’s a good thing she could teach Miracle Max a thing or two. (Good on ya’ if you get the reference, but still no points…)

Eventually, after resting up, it was time for dinner. Butch, Joyce’s husband, and Jennifer, their daughter, had been working in the kitchen all day in order to create a fine, fine dinner of Cottage Pie, Corned Beef, Cabbage, Potatoes, Irish Soda Bread, and other trimmings necessary for a lovely Saint Patrick’s Day dinner.

No more had we begun to shovel food into our mouths – because even when I’m mostly dead I have to eat dinner – the phone rang.

THIS was when I first became aware of the perky girl with the hooker shoes, and life would never be the same again…

(To Be Continued in Food. It’s Not That Hard… – coming Sunday 3/27/11…)

More to come…

Murv