BRAINPAN LEAKAGE

Part 11 of 12

Continued from: Mahwage: Trick Or Treat!

Okay… So you got me to admit that E K did not actually stomp on the little groom guy from the cake topper… I suppose y’all are real proud of yourselves now, eh? Well, here’s the thing: I’m willing to bet you she thought about it,  really, really hard. As a matter of fact, I’m sure she did.

How can I say that, you ask? Easy, she’s evil. (E K … Evil Kat… Get it? Of course you do…)

So, there you go, case closed, she’s just plain inherently evil. However, if that isn’t enough  to convince you there is also the fact that I happen to know she  really likes to stomp on things… I mean, you should see this woman with an aluminum can that’s destined for the recycle bin… she gets all giggly and stuff… Then all of a sudden it’s just flat out metal carnage, I tell you! (Get it, flat out… Yeah… Okay… Well, I thought it was funny…)

Yeah, yeah, I know… I’ve said all manner of wonderful things in this blog series to purposely dispel any myths and/or rumors about the evil redhead, but I have to do that. It’s all in the script she wrote for me and if I don’t say all these nice things about her then she’ll beat me and lock me in a closet. Really… Seriously…  She will…

I’ve just lost all credibility with you folks, haven’t I?

Well… Maybe I can get some of it back.

How, you ask? (You know, y’all ask a lot of questions)… Well, I’ll tell you. It  just so happens that I have photographic evidence of E Kay’s evilness, complete with full color depictions of cruelty, betrayal, calculated deception, and no inkling whatsoever of remorse for her actions. Yes, for real. Undoctored, unfettered, pure photographic evidence that E K is as evil as they come…

Allow me to set the stage for you…

Among those time honored traditions that go hand in hand with weddings and wedding receptions, is the bride and groom feeding the cake to one another, all cutesy woodja-woodja and the like. In that same vein there is also the “smear the cake all over your new spouse’s face” collateral tradition. I have no idea who started that particular subset of the cake thing, but he or she needs to be shot. Just my opinion, but hey…my blog, my opinion. Kinda works…

Anyway, E K and I had ourselves a talk about this. In fact, E K is the very one who brought it up. (I should have known right then and there that something was amiss)… At any rate, one day as we were working on the wedding plans she looked at me imploringly with those big blue eyes and said, “Look, Murv, let’s make a deal with one another right here and now — When it comes time to cut the cake and all that, I promise I won’t smear you in the face with it, if you promise you won’t smear me in the face. Deal?”

Well, how could I resist? She was just so damned cute and convincing and all that jazz. Besides, I really and truly wasn’t all that skippy about the prospect of having cake plastered throughout my beard for several hours, so this seemed like  the perfect solution to me. Therefore, I did the only thing I could possibly do under the circumstances. I responded in earnest, “Yeah, honey.  No problem at all. I’d say you’ve got yourself a deal. I promise to not smear any cake on your face.”

Now, being from the south I knew better. And, I knew I knew better.  In keeping with the theme of things I knew, I also knew in my heart, and in my head, that I should have spit in my palm, made her spit in hers, and had a handshake on the deal right then and there, but I didn’t. Instead, I trusted my soon-to-be-wife without hesitation. Of course, even the handshake probably wouldn’t have mattered, what with her being a Yankee and all… It stands to reason with all that northern blood she wouldn’t have honored a spit promise anyway, so that would have only made the situation worse. I mean, if  she had broken a spit promise of all things, then she just would have gone from being a Yankee to being a Damn Yankee… Obviously this would have presented a major problem, because while it’s a forgivable offense to be married to a Yankee, (after all, they can’t help it they were born in a foreign country,) marrying a Damn Yankee… Well, that’ll just get you hanged.

However, I promised you evidence and so here it is. I give you Exhibit A. (left)… Notice how I am placing the cake carefully into her mouth. However, it doesn’t take a rocket scientist to be able to see that her aim is way off. My mouth has never been on the side of my face and she knows that.  No… she was purposely assaulting me with the “cake smear”. If you look closely at my expression, posture, and the position of my other hand, you can also plainly see that the photo caught me right in the middle of a serious, “WTF?! You promised!” moment.

Now, had it merely been a case of poor aim on her part, she wouldn’t have continued to grind the icing into my beard, as evidenced in the next photo, which we shall label Exhibit B.

Unfortunately, what you are unable to see from this particular photo, is her satisfied grin. There were witnesses… But, I think she might have paid them off… Now I ask you… Evil or no?

What? Sheesh… I really don’t see why everyone is taking her side in all of this… I mean, yeah, I do get that she was merely establishing dominance in the relationship so that I would know who was really in control,  but hey, she promised… (One of these days I’m going to find out exactly what it was she had crossed when she made that promise, because I’m pretty sure her hands were in plain sight at the time…)

So, back to the title of this entry. “Where’s everybody going?” refers back to what I mentioned in the Fool For Your Stockings chapter of this series,  (Feb 22, 2009), when I spoke briefly about us hitting the sack in the evening as opposed to the very late night, or wee hours of the morning. I told you we’d get to it, and now here we are.

You see, soon after the smearing of the cake, someone must have mistaken the purely evil gesture as playfulness and then passed the word that E K was feeling frisky or something. I surmised this because it wasn’t long before a mass exodus began. People started patting us on the back, congratulating us just one more time, hugging and kissing us, then winking as they said their goodbyes. A couple of them even flat out mentioned to us that they were clearing out so E K and I could have… Ahem… “Alone time”…

WTF? E K and I had already been living together “in sin” for a year. Yeah, we’d been sinning left and right. So, it’s not like we had gone through this whole process in order to get a “free bedroom pass” or something. Truth is we already had ourselves a “big ol’ bag o’ tokens” for adult activities and we’d been spending them whenever we had a chance. Now, please understand, it’s not that we weren’t interested in visiting the “grown up amusement park” on a regular basis, or even having a go at some of the “rides” we hadn’t yet enjoyed, but on that particular night we wanted to have a party. We had spent every bit of money we could scrape together on food, a keg of beer, and fixing the place up enough to be able to have a shindig. We had worked hard to make this happen. We wanted to share and enjoy it with our friends. We could jump on the “tilt-a-whirl” tomorrow… Hell, two or three times if we felt like it.

However, no matter what we said, folks would just give us the “wink wink nudge nudge” and be on their way. By 10:30 PM, my hot and sexy bride and I were standing in the middle of our living room, just us, the cats, and no one else, surrounded by empty chairs and a whole mountain of food. Now, I know 10:30 PM sounds like night and not evening as I had said… These days, at my somewhat more advanced age, yeah, I’d call it night too. But, back then at the wet behind the ears twenty-something stage, when we were immortal and could drink a hell of a lot more, 10:30 PM was merely evening… Night was still on its way and wouldn’t be arriving for at least another half hour or so…

But, yeah, I know, that’s all just a matter of semantics… You say tomato, I say roundish red thing that goes on my sammich… Still, 10:30 PM? That’s just too damn early to pack it in when you have the youth combined with the level of party fixin’s available that we did…

So… We took one last look around and proceeded to do the only thing we could do. We put everything away, filling the refrigerator to the gills in the process, locked the doors, closed the windows, slipped out of our Sunday go to meetin’ clothes, went into the bedroom and… Passed out from sheer exhaustion.

Yeah. Sleep. That was it. No roller coaster, log flume, bumper cars, scrambler, or even a quick spin on the merry-go-round… Nothing… But, it was all good… If were weren’t going to have anyone staying to party with us, then what the hell… We’d just catch up on those 287 1/2 hours of sleep we’d managed to miss getting ready for this whole affair.

E K could tie me up and beat me later when we’d both be awake enough to enjo… Er… Uhm… Never mind.

But, honestly, in retrospect we both desperately needed the rest. Besides, if you recall, E K had lost the feeling in her legs and we needed to get her out of those rubber bands…

Of course, I would be remiss if I didn’t mention the serendipitous, (depending on your perspective,) benefits of everyone bugging out so early… And, I’m not just talking about the sleep.

We ended up with almost an entire keg of beer to ourselves… Not a quarter barrel, mind you, we had ordered a half-barrel. And it was the good stuff… Well, as good as commercial big-brewery beer can be and this was in the days before Microbreweries became truly popular. Still, before everything was said and done, I was filling gallon jugs 3/4 full and putting them in the chest freezer downstairs so I could use the flat brew to cook with at a later date, while at the same time I was staying tanked the whole day. We washed our hair with it. We gave it to the neighbors. We invited folks in off the street to have a beer. All I knew was that we’d paid for it, so that metal barrel wasn’t going back until it was floating…

I was never so glad to return a keg in all my life… Really.

On top of the beer-en-dipity there was also food-en-dipity… I didn’t have to cook for a week and a half. We just took stuff out of the freezer and ran it through the microwave. Ham sandwiches, apple-rice curry, veal parmigiana… Good thing too, because with all that extra beer I was sucking down, I was just too damn drunk to cook.

And so we had a relatively anti-climactic end to one of the truly climactic points in our lives… We spent our honeymoon here in town, shopping for furniture with the money we’d earned for getting married, (what a racket… I’d be willing to do it once or twice a year if I thought folks would keep forking over the cash), and just generally hanging out.

But, before I can formally end this proverbial stroll along memory lane, we still have one more little pothole to investigate… And, to do that, we have to get back to the subject of food…

More to come…

Murv

… NEXT: Mahwage: Whores Duh-Voars…

In case you are unfamiliar with what I mean by that title, to Castle, or Castling, is a defensive strategy in chess, whereby the king moves two squares toward the rook that is to be castled with, (this can be the rook on either side, so long as it fits the rules below). The rook then moves past the king to the square on the opposite side and takes up a position there.

Yeah, that chess piece on each end isn’t called a castle, it’s called a rook. The move itself is called Castling… And, there are a handful of rules, as mentioned above, that go along with the move… Like not having any other pieces in between the rook and king and, neither the rook nor king having been moved from their original positions prior to Castling, yadda yadda…

But, since I don’t have anyone with whom to play chess, I don’t get to do it that much these days. Therefore, I’m not actually here to talk to you about defensive strategies in a board game that stems from 1400’s Europe, and even farther back than that if you want to get technical about it. If I was here to do that, I would probably ramble on about a much more arcane and little used move like, En Passant. But, let’s just not even get started with that…

And, I’m not even going to talk about heavily fortified medieval structures either… As amazing as it may seem, I am going to prattle on endlessly about television… Seriously. Yeah, I know… Kinda weird, eh? Especially coming from me…

So, on with this whole TV thing…

You see, last night, E K was surfing around the web, checking out clips from the Oscars, mainly because we don’t actually watch that stuff, but she had heard a couple of things on the grapevine and wanted to see the clips.  Probably so she could look at Hugh Jackman or something, who knows… Either way, in her searches and such, she ran across an advertisement for a new TV show…

Yeah, you guessed it, the name of the show is, Castle. Here is a little snippet about it from the ABC website:

“Wildly famous mystery novelist Richard Castle (Nathan Fillion) is bored with his own success. Then he learns that a real-world copycat killer has started staging murder scenes depicted in his novels. Castle is questioned by NYPD Detective Kate Beckett (Stana Katic), a bright and aggressive detective who keeps her investigations under tight rein. Though they instantly clash, sparks of another sort also begin to fly, leading both to danger and a hint of romance as Castle steps in to help find the killer. And once that case is solved, he and Beckett build on their new relationship as they look to solve more strange homicides in New York – as much fun as one can have with death and murder.”

Now, obviously, the minute the Evil Redhead mentioned this to me, I turned my desk chair around, because, well, the way our shared office is set up we have our backs to one another. So, in order to see what she was talking about I pretty much had to turn around… But, of course, that’s not the only reason. First, there is the fact that she said Nathan Fillion was starring in the show. While I’m not a rabid celebrity chaser or anything, I happen to like Mister Fillion’s acting. And, after all, he’s one of our BDH’s. In case you don’t know what a BDH is, the beloved acronym stands for, Big Damn Heroes… Serenity… Firefly… Captain Tightpants… Malcolm Reynolds… Trust me, this is an important thing to know.

Of course, the second thing to capture my attention was something just as important as the fact that Mister Fillion was starring in the series, if not infinitely more so. Obviously, that would be the fact that he is playing the part of a mystery author. I mean, after all, that’s pretty much exactly what I do for a living, so it’s definitely going to spark my interest just a bit, don’tcha think?

But, since the wayback machine is always sitting in the corner of my office, just chugging away as it waits for a passenger or two, we might want to pay a bit of attention to it. We don’t have to take a trip or anything, but just for the sake of full disclosure, maybe we should poke our heads in through the hatch and have a look at the “Visio Temporal Doozy-what-zits Screen“…

Back in 1979 and 1980, there was a short lived TV series starring Dennis Weaver. The title was, “Stone“. (Funny, castles are made of stone, aren’t they? But, I digress…) Anyway, Mister Weaver played the part of Daniel Ellis Stone, a police detective who also happened to be a bestselling crime novelist. Hm… There’s your police procedural element, eh?

But, it doesn’t stop there…

Back in 2002 we had another short lived series about a writer, “Stark Raving Mad.” This one starred Tony Shalhoub, (of Wings and Monk fame), as Ian Stark, a King-esque horror author who was all about practical jokes and having a good time. Hm… There’s your comedic element, eh?

Of course, if we wanted to step all the way into the wayback machine, we could find many more examples of authors as main characters in movies and TV… Murder She Wrote, anyone? However, for a quick look on the “how do these things relate scale,” those are a couple of the more recent…

So, what I am saying here is that the premise behind Castle isn’t exactly new. But, let’s not take that as me being critical, because I’m definitely not. Any writer worth a damn will tell you that there is no such thing as a book or story that hasn’t been written, because it simply isn’t true. There are only so many plots and premises, and trust me, they’ve all been used. What we do, as writers, is put a different spin on those staples we have rattling around in our tool bags.  This show appears to do just that…

So, back to that turning around thing…

E K clicked on over to the ABC website, specifically to the page devoted to Castle, and there happened to be a couple of video excerpts embedded there for promotional purposes. Well, being the curious sorts we both are, she started them up and we sat back to watch.

Of course, as we all know, the excerpts are generally the best parts of the show, strung together in such a way as to get you to tune in to the whole thing, thereby watching the commercials, buying the advertised products, which in turn, causes the advertiser to buy more air time, thereby financing the network and show, and… Well, you get the picture. The other thing about excerpts is this… Very often they will imply things that not only don’t happen in the show proper, but they will even flat out lie about what is going to happen, and even use footage that came from the cutting room floor. Therefore, we have to take these excerpts for what they truly are, that being, promotional gimmicks, see above for more details.

That said, I have to admit I got a kick out of these particular clips.

Mister Fillion has great comic timing, and is a very versatile actor, to say the least. Still, there were a couple of things that bugged me… Just a little… And, while I am gearing up to mention them here, I am also truly reserving judgment until I see the full episodes, because, as I said, excerpts are just excerpts after all…

The things that caused me to raise an eyebrow:

1. Wildly successful authors: In the excerpt, Castle is playing poker with a stack of wildly successful author buddies – Patterson, King, etc… They are all flush with cash, and at one point there is a mention of a series/character keeping a particular author’s “private jet” fueled long after people have forgotten about Castle’s recently killed off character.
2. Me: What I mean by that is, I see a little too much of “me” in the character of Castle. (No, I don’t believe for a minute, nor am I claiming that someone is following me around and using me as a template for the character… see my explanation below…)

Point number one is the real kicker. I am hoping that after I see the actual episodes that some of these “private jet” oriented comments are intended as tongue-in-cheek. If they are, well then I can have a good laugh. Because, while there are a few wildly successful authors out there, few is the operative word. Better than 95% of the literature folks pick up to read and enjoy is written by mid-list and lower mid-list authors… Those of us who are basically pulling in a living somewhere between “poverty level” and “kinda okay average”.  I’m not complaining… It’s a career choice I made… But, I already have folks believing that I live on my own private island with servants and such. I can just see people watching this series and suddenly assuming that all authors are millionaires, just like they make ridiculous assumptions about cops, firemen, lawyers, and any other profession that has been “over-dramatized” on TV. (Remind me to tell you the story  sometime of the parent at my child’s school who made that exact assumption about me when he found out I am a published author of a series. I still haven’t been able to convince him otherwise.)

Point number two… Well, it’s not really a problem so much as an  amusing observation… While I am certainly nowhere near as good looking as Mister Fillion, nor am I anywhere near as successful as his character, Castle,  nor am I a skirt chaser, (although, I readily admit to being a major flirt), I do have something very much in common with him. That is, a tendency to toss silly witticisms out there, no matter what the situation, dire or otherwise. I suppose, like the character, humor is my relief valve / defense mechanism. So, I can easily see myself watching this show and mumbling, “Yeah, that’s exactly what I would have said,” or even literally knowing what he is going to say before he says it. I already found myself doing that with the clips…

In any event, I have high hopes for this one. It’s great to see Mister Fillion doing well, and I cannot say as that I am displeased by the idea of an author getting to be the main character of a TV show, because, well, I’d be lying. Truth is, I’m pretty excited about it.

According to ABC’s website, Castle premieres Monday, March 9th, at 10/9 Central. I don’t know about the rest of you, but I’ll definitely be tuning in. In fact, I already wrote it down on my calendar…

More to come…

Murv

… PS. Something I forgot to mention. The novel character Castle just killed off? His name was Storm. Ring any bells?