BRAINPAN LEAKAGE

Over the years I have held several titles.

Not the wrestling or boxing sort, mind you. Although there was that one bar fight, but we don’t talk about that. Still, titles and honorifics come with professions and accomplishments, and I’ve collected a few. Senior Field Service Engineer… Systems Administrator… Husband… Father… Best-Selling Author… Award-Winning Writer…

And those are just a few of the meaningful and the not so meaningful titles ascribed to my name.

I’ve never really been all about titles, to be honest. But I will admit that there are a few of which I am somewhat proud, even if only for a moment. Allow me to explain…

You see, I recently picked up a new title. I didn’t even know I was in line for it, but sometimes these things just happen. At any rate, imagine my excitement when I was notified by the Canadian Ministry of Titles that I had been anointed “Douchebag.” (See the official letter informing me of such in the image below, or view the original HERE)

I was ready to throw a party. Seriously. I mean “Douchebag?” That’s one hell of a title to have bestowed upon oneself. Of course, after looking up the criteria for the title I discovered that I didn’t (and still don’t) actually meet any of the requirements, therefore I figured it was just an honorary sort of thing. After all, that would lend even more credence to it being an honorific, right?

But no. According to the Canadian Ministry, it was beyond honorary. I was, in point of fact, being anointed as a full-fledged, officially certified “Douchebag.” On top of that, I was given the supporting degree of “F*cktard.”

I was an official “Douchebag F*cktard.” I realize that this may seem like a Douchebagatelle to most of you, but for me it was like a dream come true.

A party to celebrate this title became a moral imperative. After all, it’s not every day one is bestowed with such honors – especially from our neighbor to the Great White North. (BTW – No Canadians were harmed during the creation of this blog entry. Not even the Minister of Douchebag who conferred the aforementioned title. Oh, and no moose were harmed either, unless you count that case of Moosehead I killed off while writing this. )

I picked up the phone and started calling all of my friends. I really wanted to invite some military folks I know, but unfortunately they were stuck in DoucheBaghdad and couldn’t make it. I was, however, able to reach my friend in DoucheBagshaw. Even though airfare from England to the US wasn’t cheap,  she told me she wouldn’t be able to forgive herself if she missed a good Douche.

Next I called Anastasia. She was in Dublin, Ireland at that particular moment, on DoucheBaggot Street trying to find a suitable Douchebaggery. It seems she had already heard about my good fortune and wanted to buy a gift for me. Since I travel so much she figured Douchebaggage would be a good choice. I thanked her, and gave her the details of the party, then moved on with my invites.

A few more calls to my Douchebaggiest friends and the guest list was all set.

Of course, that was just the beginning. If I was going to throw a party I needed a few things, so I headed out to do some shopping.

I stopped at the bakery and picked up some Douchebaguettes for the sandwiches. Of course, we would also need some snack foods, so I picked up some vinegar potato chips. Since this would be an all day affair and some folks would be arriving in the morning, I thought some breakfast type foods might be in order, so I also picked up some Douchebagels. And, for those who might want something a little sweeter I grabbed a couple of boxes of F*ckTarts. After all, I wasn’t just being anointed a “Douchebag.” I was a full-fledged “Douchebag F*cktard.”

Since every party needs a little entertainment, when I left the store  I stopped in at a local booking agent and arranged for a group of Douchebagpipers.

Upon arriving home I called a few folks to help me out with getting things all set up. Once they arrived we took all of the snacks and party favors, lined them up, then began to Douchebag them in individual Douchebaggies. It took some time, but once all of the Douchebaggers were done with the Douchebagging and had all of the party favors Douchebagged,  it was time to get ready for guests to arrive.

I ran off to change into something more comfortable. Since it was going to be a long day I decided that something loose and Douchebaggy was in order, because to me Douchebagginess equals comfort. On the way to change I happened to notice that the evergreen outside our window had Douchebagworms, and made a mental note to call someone about that.

Finally, it was time for the fun to begin. Unfortunately, that’s when I received the call.

“Hello,” I said.

“Murv, this is George Takei,” said the voice at the other end.

“Mister Sulu!” I shouted.

He groaned. “Don’t call me that, okay? Just George.”

“Umm, okay,” I replied. “George it is. So… What’s up?”

“Well, I’ve been given to understand you are throwing a Douchebag party.”

“Absolutely! Would you like to attend? I’m sure everyone would be all excited to meet Mister Su… I mean, THE George Takei.”

“Actually, no.”

I paused. “Umm… Okay… So what’s this about?”

“You can’t have the party,” he said.

“Why not?” I asked.

“Because I checked the list. You are NOT a Douchebag.”

“Are you sure? I mean, the Canadian Ministry of…”

He cut me off mid-sentence. “Listen, I have the list right here. Haven’t you seen my NO H8 video?”

“Umm. Yes, actually, I have. Great vid and my sentiments exactly.”

“Well then trust me. You are NOT a Douchebag. I have the list right here, and your name isn’t on it.”

“Damn…” I muttered. “Okay, so what about F*cktard? They also told me I had…”

“Nope,” he interrupted me again. “I checked with the director of the Grand Lodge of F*cktards on that one, and if anyone knows F*cktards it’s him.”

“I don’t know what to say…” I mumbled.

“Sorry,” George said. “I know how excited you were about this, but I’m afraid you’re going to have to cancel your party. Or at the very least change the theme.”

“But… But everything is already Douchebagged for the guests convenience…”

“You know, Murv. If you keep doing nice things like that for your friends, fans, and guests, you will never achieve your dream of being a Douchebag.”

“Really?”

“Really.”

And so, my elation came crashing down around me. I was no longer a Douchebag. Nor was I a F*cktard, much to my dismay. In fact, I had never been either one, nor did I stand a chance of becoming anything remotely close.

So, that’s the story. I don’t mind telling you that I’m devastated.

Srsly.

I mean, what the hell am I going to do with all of these vinegar potato chips?

More to come…

Murv

…With thanks to Thomas Dolby for the snippet of song lyric which titles this entry. Actually, this all happened yesterday, but I warned y’all I’d probably be too tired to post my travel-blog until this morning, so there!

But, let’s get down to business – Yes, I flew north in order to go south east. I know, doesn’t make sense to me either, but like I said before, there was no way to get to Wayne, NE from St. Louis. It was one of those “can’t get there from here” situations, and that included the reverse trip as well.

At any rate, the following is a chronicle of my trip home, after Ron (the Wayne State College SF Club Faculty Advisor and one hell of a great guy) dropped me off at the airport.

@mrsellars – Time to get my FLY SUX t-shirt. [browse…browse] [go to counter with t-shirt in hand]

@SUX_Cashier – Gonna buy a t-shirt?

@mrsellars – No, I just figured I’d carry it around the store for a while.

@SUX_Cashier – o_o

@mrsellars – It’s a joke. I’ll take two of these FLY SUX pilot’s wings pins too.

@SUX_Cashier – Really want that stuff, huh?

@mrsellars – Absolutely. It’s a moral imperative.

@SUX_Security_Guard – At least you have morals.

@mrsellars – Oh yeah. But of course, I didn’t say they were good morals.

@SUX_Security_Guard – O_o

@SUX_Cashier – O_o

@Egg_Beater_Express – [Arriving at Gate 2] Pttthpppbtt…  whirrr…. pthbbbhhhtttttt… skreee… whirrr… Spit… Koff… Koff… Sputter… Klunk… Pop!

@mrsellars – O_o

@mrsellars – Oh yeah… This should be fun.

@mrsellars – Wonders how they are going to fit all of the 4000 Asian individuals milling around the terminal onto that single plane.

[Boarding time]

@Gate_2 – [half dozen Asian passengers board plane] [remaining 3994 Asian folks wave from other side of TSA security checkpoint.]

@mrsellars – Now that’s a big family… O_o

@Egg_Beater_Flight_Attendant – Welcome aboard, don’tchaknow, Yah… We’re all goin to Manny-Sowda dere, all righty. Okey-dokey… Let’s all go ice fishin’ when we get dere… okey-dokey? Yah, don’tchaknow…

@mrsellars – Shoot me now…

@Egg_Beater_Flight_Attendant – Somethin’ to drink dere?

@mrsellars – Coffee?

@Egg_Beater_Flight_Attendant – Oh yah, I got some Kah-Fee dere. Yah want anything in it dere?

@mrsellars – Not unless it’s really bad coffee.

@Egg_Beater_Flight_Attendant – Ohhhh, I heard all about you dere, don’tcha know… You just fasten up your seatbelt dere mister…

@Egg_Beater_Express – Ptthhbbbppptptt… Pthbbt… Whirr… Whocka… Thumpa… Pthbbbttttt…

@mrsellars – O_o

@mrsellars – How in the hell can it be so far from Gate A3 to B1?

@MN-SP_Airport – Arrive Gate A3… Connection Gate B1… No, B3… Wait… Okay, B8… B8, yah, that’s it dere don’tchaknow… Stay at B8 dere… Yah… All good dere… Yah, go get noms… We’ll be right here when you get back don’tchaknow…

@mrsellars – [Goes for noms]

@mrsellars – Same employees at Quiznos. Still moving in slow motion. Caribou coffee again.

@mrsellars – [returns from getting noms]

@MN-SP_Airport – PSYCHE! Connection now at B14…

@mrsellars – O_o

@mrsellars – Consumed another not so stellar wrap – Honey Mustard chicken this time. Plenty of lettuce ribs from trash included… Mmmm-mmm-mmm, good fiber. More blue green algae. Total cost of $2 wrap and $1 drink, $12.35…

@mrsellars – Price discrepancy due to purchasing coffee at Caribou Coffee as well. Not in the mood for pencil shavings today. Plus, if tasting E Kay’s stockings would prefer she be present (See: We’re Off To See The Blizzard…)

@mrsellars – Still not telling…

@Young_Hottie_Passenger – [Waving at man walking past gate] Hey! Old Guy!!

@Old_Guy_Passenger – [Stops] Hey… How are you?

@Old_Guy’s_Wife – Are you flirting with women AGAIN!!!

@mrsellars – Hmmm… Impending catfight?

@Young_Hottie_Passenger – But… But… I just sat next to him on the plane…

@Old_Guy’s_Wife – Oh yeah, Beeyotch!!

@mrsellars – @other_passenger – Gimme $50 on the old chick.

@Flight_Attendant – Sir, can I ask you to move so that this family can sit together.

@mrsellars – Sure.

@mrsellars – [move move move]

@Old_Asian_Guy_Across_Aisle – [Looks] [points] [elbows wife] [points] [both proceed to jabber to one another while pointing and staring]

@mrsellars – Hmmmm… Apparently Asian Minnesotans have never seen a guy in shorts either.

@STL_Lambert_Airport – Your luggage will be at M6… No wait… M3…. No… M4… PSYCHE! M6…

@mrsellars – O_o

Arrive Passenger Pickup Area

@EK – Dammit, you made the flight… I thought I told you to go for a walk in that blizzard?

@mrsellars – I did.

@EK – And you found your way back?

@mrsellars – Yeah.

@EK – Dammit.

@mrsellars – @EK – You’re looking exceptionally pretty today.

@EK – Of course I am.

@Offspring – Psshbbbbppttt! Daaahhhhddddyyyy… It’s just because you haven’t seen her for a few days.

@EK – O_o

@mrsellars – O_o

Finally Home

@EK – I read your blogs.

@mrsellars – Okay.

@EK – I know about the other cow.

@mrsellars – Yeah.

@EK – Did you get me any steaks?

@mrsellars – Nope. Locals beat me to it again.

@EK – Stay right here. I’m going to go get something to beat you with.

@mrsellars – Yes ma’am.

And so ends the odyssey… Well, not completely. I have some film to drop off, and I already have a few of the digital pix courtesy of Ron. I’ll be throwing together a retrospective via my newsletter in the next few days.

Thanks again to everyone at WillyCon and Wayne State College for letting me be a part of their convention. I had a blast. Oh, and now I can say I’ve weathered a minor blizzard too.

More to come…

Murv