BRAINPAN LEAKAGE

Or: How Michele Bachmann Got Me Into Trouble With My Wife

I’m not a Michele Bachmann fan. Personally, I think the woman is off her rocker, but I am stating that as my opinion based upon her rhetoric. I’ve never met her – nor do I want to meet her – and moreover, I am not a clinical head-shrinker, so I’m not academically qualified to diagnose her as a nutjob. That said, (being a disclaimer and all, you understand) I’m relatively certain her elevator stops somewhere in between the first and second floor.

All good. I’m not about to begrudge her the right to run off at the mouth. However, as I’ve always stated, other people’s rights end where mine begin, and now Michele has directly affected said rights. How? She got me in trouble with The Evil Redhead.

For this to make sense, I need to give you a bit of info. You see, there is a routine here at E K Central. Each morning I wake up at oh-dark-thirty, start the coffee, visit the “Little Merp’s Room,” then install a 45 minute back massage on The Redhead. Trust me, if she doesn’t get her back massage in the morning, there’s hell to pay. After that, I proceed to get breakfast ready, answer email, prep EKay’s lunch, clean litter boxes, and on, and on. Somewhere in there, I take the o-spring to school, get my daily walk in, then return home in time to refill my coffee, bow and scrape to The Redhead, and then walk her out to her vehicle. It’s not that she needs an escort; it’s that she needs a pack mule. Yes, I “carry her books” for her (that’s a metaphor. I carry her lunch, extra shoes, and other stuff. Although, sometimes there are books, too.)

It’s at this juncture where her supreme evilness imparts upon me the instructions for the day. You know, stuff like, “Pick up my dry cleaning, polish all of my shoes, paint the house, build me a gazebo, make sure you prepare Beef Wellington for dinner tonight, and my vodka & tonic was too weak yesterday so if you don’t do better this evening there will be hell to pay. “

See what I mean? Normal stuff.

What does this have to do with Michele Bachmann, you ask? I’m getting to that.

On Friday morning, following standard procedure, I walked E K to her vehicle, loaded her lunch, stood still while she slapped me around, replied with, “Thank you, Mistress, may I have another?!” just as I am supposed to do, and all was good. Among her daily instructions to me was the following: Water the Basil and Oregano on the porch.

Easy enough, even for me, right? Well, not so much…

After seeing off Her Worship, I went back into the house on a mission to fill the watering can and tend to her herb garden. As I entered the door, The Early Show was blaring from the idiot box. On the screen was one of the co-hosts, and Michele Bachmann. From the speakers I heard, “Inducements inducing people to break the law to be induced to get the inducements that they were induced to be induced by, for the purpose of inducing…”

Okay… Yeah… So that is definitely NOT a direct quote. Here’s the real one:

“We’re inducing more people to break the law by giving them inducements and if someone comes into this state, they can subsequently also obtain other benefits on occasion as well,” she continued. “So we don’t want to have any inducements that will be a magnet to induce more people to come into the united states illegally.”

Even so, my overarching point here is that Michele Bachmann was flinging a ten-dollar word out there, in its various forms, multiple times in the same sentence.

I make my living with words. I notice shit like this. Especially when someone overuses the living crap out of a word. I mean, grammatically it’s never a stellar idea to use a word multiple times in a single sentence unless it’s an article or a preposition or a conjunction or something of that ilk. Know what I mean? It’s sort of like the old rule about not using a word in its own definition.

So… How did this get me in trouble?

Again, that’s easy – Inducement-gate was like a big train wreck to my ears. I stood there staring at the screen, drooling (because I was being mind-numbed), and I just couldn’t look away or tune it out. I’m sure plenty of folks are thinking, “Doooood. You’re making too big a deal out of it.”

Well no, not really. I’m not saying she should take a long walk off a short pier because of Inducement-gate (there are plenty of other reasons why I think she should do that.) However, as I said above, words are how I make my living, so a verbal train wreck like that was bound to make me go all googly-eyed.

And so, with my eyes goggled up, and my brain severely numbed, I completely forgot to water The Supreme Redhead’s herb garden – a fact that dawned on me Friday evening as I was paying daily homage to Her Worship by removing the lint from her sweater with a single three-inch strip of 15 year old generic cellophane tape, just like she’d told me to do. I guess I was still a little brain-numbed too, because instead of just going and watering the damn plants, I said with my out loud voice, “Oh crap, I forgot to water your herb garden!”

The doctor says I’ll be good as new in a few weeks if I just take it easy. He also suggested that I avoid exposure to Michele Bachmann.

I wonder if I should send HER the medical bill, or just forward it on to the GOP?

More to come…

Murv

Continued from $750.00 Later…

Now, at this particular juncture, I am certain that some of you – mostly the male readers, though not all I’m sure – are just dying to know about the hottie in the hooker shoes…

Well, you see, it’s like this… She was a Goth nurse for the RAF back in WWII. Yes… She was way ahead of her time as far as fashion trends go… But anyway, I had been dropped behind enemy lines. Problem is, they forgot to give me a parachute. Fortunately, I bounce.

I was on a mission to steal Hitler’s mustache. Unfortunately, there was an ambush and I was horribly wounded… The bouncing hadn’t helped, trust me. After crawling for 40 days and 40 nights through muddy trenches and seedy Schnitzel Dens, surviving on what little beer and potato salad I could manage to steal undetected, I finally gave in to exhaustion. When I eventually awoke, I was in a hospital bed and the first thing I saw was…

Okay, enough of that crap.

At any rate, we finished dinner while Joyce handled the crisis on the phone. The crisis being the $750.00. What about it? I’m not going to tell you yet.

So… Where was I? Oh yeah… So anyway, the next day, following more doctoring from Joyce, I was treated to a driving tour of Fort Hood by Butch (remember Butch, Joyce’s husband? Good…) who also happened to be my official “handler” for the weekend, and a guy who can fix up one hell of a breakfast. Let me tell ya’, Butch saw to it that I started the day out right, with everything from Santa Fe Omelets, to French Toast, Biscuits, Bacon, Sausage, and all the trimmings. In short, the rest of the country of Texas could take a few lessons from Butch where food is concerned.

Following the tour I did a meet and greet at the store proper. This is where I came face to face with “Bouncy Brandi” the perkiest non-blonde I’ve ever met. I had heard plenty about her already, especially her price tag – remember that phone call about the $750? But we’ll get to that eventually…

Later that evening we gathered at Lolly Central, out on the range, so to speak. Srsly. I kid you not, the directions to get to Lolly and her husband Doug’s house are, Take the highway, go over the river, through the woods, turn off onto the gravel road, then turn off onto the dirt road.

Not kidding.

So, anyhow, we had a BBQ that couldn’t be beat – Chicken, brisket, salmon, and all sorts of trimmings, along with beer. I met and had a chance to chat for a moment or two with Dr. Steven Farmer, the other author guest speaker for the event. Very nice guy with all kinds of interesting things to talk about. During all of this Joyce was still doctoring me with the “Skunk Jooce” and “Healer Tea.”

My buddy Althie, the crazy German woman of Texas, who has been promising me sauerbraten was there too. Guess what? She didn’t bring me any sauerbraten. But that’s okay. She’s been really busy, and she did the next best thing – she brought me the necessary pre-packaged fixin’s, straight from Germany, to prepare my own sauerbraten and Knödel. Just add beef. So, I’ll be whomping that up in the very near future…

But back to the hooker shoes…

During all of this, “Bouncy Brandi” leans over to me and says, “Just so you know, I was really nervous about meeting you. So… for you, $750.00…”

“What?” I asked.

“$750.00,” she replied, all matter-of-fact and businesslike.

Since her husband was sitting just across from me I said to him, “Dude… I think your wife just propositioned me.”

“Yeah,” he said with a nod. “She’s like that. No worries though, we need to finance a room addition so we could use the extra cash.”

“But… $750?” I asked.

Bouncy Brandi leaned over again and said, “Hey, I’m giving you a discount because you’re my second favorite author. Best $750.00 in Texas right here…”

That’s me, ya’know. Always second fiddle to someone.

I told her to let me think about it, because I really wasn’t sure what E K would think of me spending that much money on a perky Goth nurse from WWII.

“Okay,” she said. “But don’t wait too long, or the price goes up.”

…And not a lick of that has anything to do with why this particular entry is called, “Food. It’s Really Not That Hard…” To understand that, we have to jump into the wayback machine and set the dials to OstaraFest 2008…

To Be Continued in Lolly, Lolly, Lolly… coming March 30, 2011…

More to come…

Murv