" /> BRAINPAN LEAKAGE » raisin bran
  • Hey, That’s MY Line…

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    First she steals my heart…

    Then she steals my freedom…

    Next she steals my French fries… (right off my plate)

    And then she steals my virginity… Wait… No… That was already gone.

    Thing is, now she’s stealing my schtick.

    Yeah, I know, Richard Castle is already doing that, but I can’t say too much about that. Last time I did I pissed off the fan club shill.

    But, even with everything else, now E K – Her Supreme Evil Redheaded Goddess Techno MILF – is taking my schtick. No, not that schtick… She got that one even before we were married, and she doesn’t even let me see it, much less play with it anymore.

    I’m talking about the part where I’m funny.

    Okay, stop laughing, I am too funny.

    Seriously. Enough.

    All right then… So, there I was, engaged in my morning routine. You know, the one that starts at 5:30 AM where I get the coffee going, then give her Eebilness a back massage, followed by setting out her breakfast stuff, yadda yadda…

    And that’s when it happened.

    There she was, the Eebil Redhead, standing in the kitchen in her sheer black negligee and stiletto heeled mules, as she does every single morning, looking like she had just stepped out of the pages of a Frederick’s of Hollywood catalog…

    Wait… That was while I was still asleep. Let’s fast forward a bit…

    There she was, the Eebil Redhead, fiery hair sticking out at all sorts of odd angles, one eye shut, clad in sweats and a fuzzy bathrobe. How’s that for truth in advertising?

    Anyway, she was standing at the counter peering into a fresh box of Raisin Bran. If you remember my previous blog entries, you know that E K must have Raisin Bran every morning, otherwise people suffer – namely me. I came around the corner just in time to see her eyeball the contents, then eyeball the bowl she had just filled. She did this a couple of times, then closed the top on the box and began to shake it in a most violent fashion. She bounced it up and down, rattled it, beat it on the counter, slung it around in a circle, then shook it some more.

    Then she opened it, eyeballed it, eyeballed the bowl, and then did it all over again.

    Unable to take it any longer I asked, “Ummmm… What in the world are you doing?”

    “Imma rebbstrupping nabn race pins,” she mumbled. You have to understand, when she’s half asleep she speaks the same language she does when she’s drunk (See: Gimme Mai Shooz…)

    “What?” I asked.

    “Imma rebbstrupping nabn race pins.”

    “What?” I asked again, because that’s what I say when I don’t understand someone. Truth is I’ve been saying that a lot lately.

    With an exasperated sigh, she cocked her head, put a hand on her hip, drew in a breath and half yelled, “I’m redistributing the raisins!”

    “Oh, okay…” I replied. I stood and watched her in silence for a moment, then asked, “Why?”

    She pointed at the bowl and said, “Two scoops in every box and I’ve got one of ’em right here.”

    I love you honey. I even obey you and try not to complain too much when you beat me severely, use me as a doormat, and steal my French fries…

    But now you’re crossing the line. Observational Satire and the associated witty commentary are MY things. You need to stick with being unbelievably smokin’ hot and incredibly evil. It works for you.

    Me, on the other hand, humor is all I’ve got.

    More to come…

    Murv

  • The Best Laid Plans Of Mice And E Kay…

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    bowl of raisin bran If you are looking for a stock to add to your portfolio, I would like to suggest that you look into any company that produces Raisin Bran.

    Seriously.

    It can be Kellogg’s, Post, General-Mills, Store Brand, or even Happy Fred’s Generic Cereal Company. The real deal here is that it doesn’t matter one iota who it is, just as long as they produce, package, and sell Raisin Bran, and are publicly traded on the exchange, you probably want to grab yourself a few shares.

    Why?

    Well, I’ll tell you. Because E K likes Raisin Bran. In point of fact, not only does The Evil Redhead like – nay, love – the shriveled-up-grape and flaky goodness of said cereal, I am fairly certain she is addicted to it… If not addicted, then damn close, because she goes through entire barge loads of the stuff, and on top of that, it is no less than number 2 on the hit parade for her daily routine.

    THE E K DAILY MEANNESS AND EVILNESS SCHEDULE

    1. Get out of bed and scare the hell out of Satan… Or, scare Satan right out of hell, whichever works. Then stand over him and giggle while he cowers in the corner.
    2. Eat Raisin Bran while watching the morning news.
    3. Feed and medicate cats.
    4. Get ready for work.
    5. Beat husband. Beat husband again if the mood strikes. Then stand over him and giggle while he cowers in the corner next to Satan.
    6. Go to work and generally be evil. If necessary, and again if the mood strikes, be specifically evil as well as generally evil.
    7. Come home and beat husband. Find where Satan is hiding and beat him too. Stand over both husband and Satan and giggle while they cower in the corner.
    8. Lock husband and Satan in basement then go to bed.
    9. Sleep with evil grin on face.
    10. Wake up, start at item 1 and repeat ad infinitum.

    See what I mean? I’m pretty sure number 2 would actually be number 1 if it weren’t for the fact that she takes such joy in scaring Satan senseless. I mean, she is after all, Evil Kat. But, if it weren’t for the amusement she gets from torturing the prince of darkness on a daily basis, I’m sure she’d just have me bring the Raisin Bran to her in bed so she could skip that annoying first step altogether. In fact, come to think of it, on Katsmas when she lets Satan slide for the day as a Katsmas present, she does in fact have me bring her Raisin Bran to her in bed, so there you go.

    Oh, and BTW, she’s always quick remind Satan that he can be the prince of darkness all he wants, but she’s the Queen, so “neener neener”… Then Satan starts crying. Blubbering actually. It’s pretty sad to watch.

    But, anyway, back to this whole Raisin Bran thing. One time when we ate the complimentary breakfast at a hotel where we stayed, I witnessed E K stab a desk clerk to death with a spork because all they had were Corn Flakes and generic Cheerios. You just don’t mess with her two scoops, as it were.

    So, I’m sure you can see that E Kay’s schedule of events is pretty well set. And, if something causes her to deviate from that course, things tend to go awry. Take just the other morning for instance…

    sleepwalk It started out just like any other day. Beelzebub was at the back of E Kay’s closet trying to hide under one of her shoe racks while crying for his mommy. The Evil One had enjoyed her morning giggle, and then traipsed into the kitchen so she could move along to number 2 on the list.

    Now, I have to point out that even though she’s had her morning giggle, E K can be a bit on the glassy-eyed side for the first hour or so after her feet hit the floor. Hence the strict routine.

    Well, for whatever reason, be it that she was wracking her brain to come up with a new husband torture, or maybe even that she was simply drunk with mirth from the horribleness she had already perpetrated upon the whimpering devil upstairs, E K deviated from her routine.

    Yes. The Queen Bitch Of The Whole F*cking Universe made a left at Albuquerque.

    She put number 2 on hold and moved number 3 up a half step on the ladder – meaning she elected to feed the cats first. Just so there’s no misunderstanding I want everyone to know I would have gently nudged her back onto the schedule had I been aware this was happening. Unfortunately, I was preoccupied with putting a spit shine on the shoes E K wanted to wear that day lest I be in even more trouble than normal.

    I honestly had no clue whatsoever that anything was wrong until I heard a loud, exasperated groan followed by E Kay’s voice exclaiming, “DAMMIT!”

    (As an aside, I think she might have picked that whole “dammit” thing up from a friend of ours we call “Helga”. She’s been schooling “Helga” in the ways of evil and husband torture, so they’ve hung out together a bit and, well, ya’know what I mean?)

    At any rate, I stopped what I was doing and rushed to the kitchen to see what might possibly be the problem. Things were going through my head like perhaps I had set out the wrong color cereal bowl, or the spoon wasn’t shiny enough, or the milk wasn’t cold enough, or any of the hundreds of other things that would upset the E K.

    confused My heart was stuck in my throat and fear of an impending beating was already welling in my stomach as I rounded the corner. However, instead of seeing blue fire shooting out of the redhead’s eyes, I found myself gazing upon 4 cats – well, actually 1 grumbling Kat and 3 quite obviously confused four-legged felines. I looked at the furry threesome as they cocked their heads side to side, then looked up, down, and all around. Then I looked at The Evil One. In her hand was an open box of Raisin Bran.

    The problem was, that’s also exactly what was in the feline’s dishes on the floor.

    Of course, as I am sure you already guessed, this deviation from the canonical list of the day was somehow my fault. Honestly, I never really understand the logic behind how I get blamed, but I’ve learned better than to object. I just take my beating, and then go cower in the corner with Satan.

    It seems to be quite a bit safer there.

    More to come…

    Murv