After nearly a third of a sesquicentennial of living and irritating other people’s spider senses, I have decided that I need a gritty nickname. Yes, before I make that final belly-flop into a shallow worm-ridden mulchy grave, I need some kind of hip ‘callsign’ and an icy-hot image.I think having a ‘too cool drug mule’ moniker is a necessity if I ever end up in a 6 X 9 foot cell with other amoebae, compare scars with Topless Gun pilots, or become a rap music star with a toothy, gold grill!
You see, I got kind of jealous recently when I sour-noted a concert line-up of noisy music dudes named ‘N. E. Yo, Pitbull, and T. Pain” performing for a morning TV show. Not a plain vanilla, Anglo-Saxon grunt name to be shared among them. So obviously to be ‘phatter’ than I already am I’ll need to combine some USDA choice meaty nouns with at least one initial. So where do I go to register a sheik hipster image like those music guys and what government agency is responsible for taxing society’s patience?
Are there any official pre-requisites for my new responsibilities and image as a self-involved ‘blogga’-gangsta’ idol? Maybe I need The Donald’s whispy locks, Mickey’s oversized ear buds, or a Hitler ‘half-stash’ to dress up the rebel ‘tude? I was hoping the warehouse-mirror sunglasses, ‘finger thickin’ good’ gold chains, and beltless n’ baggy pants were good enough to make a splash in today's modern blue gene pool?
Now admittedly I am kind of a ‘dough-so-soft’ wimp, so for my new image I should probably shy away from the calloused and brawny, testosterone belching, smelly-man ‘nom de fumes’. I was however thinking that I do happen to know my way around buckets of butter pretty well, so maybe a catchy caloric name like “I.M. Greezy.” or “Tubb E.” would fit the BILL? No rush though; I still have time to hone my future edgy, bad-dog, blogging moniker. I am lucky since I have a few years stock of my current library bookplates and the laundry labels my Mom used to sew in my CAMPground skivvies – ‘Der T. Drawers’!