A Rose By Any Other Name!

This entry is going to be short because I realize that I write too much per entry and by the time people get to the end they're either laughing too hard or they're watching something far more entertaining.

I've decided that my name is too boring and I'm going to change my name. In order to spice it up, though, I'm not going to do much to my name. I mean, I'm not going to give myself a whole new name like Sexass Bitchhumper or anything. Even though that's a fucking wicked name, don't get me wrong, that's not what I'm changing it to. I just think that, in order to make myself more exciting, I'm just going to change my name from "Kurt" to "Kurt!"; I may even do all caps there--for emphasis. I just wish I would have thought of this back when I was in Junior High or High School. I would have liked to be sitting in class knowing that a substitute teacher has to call my name, it goes something like this.

Substitute Teacher: Rebecca Clitoris.

Rebecca: Here!

Substitute: Umm, Jason DoucheBag-Zeta-Jones.

Jason: Here!

Substitute: Kurt .

*Silence*

Substitute: Kurt .

*Silence*

Substitute: So Kurt's not here?

Me: Ohh, you're calling me? It's not Kurt.

Substitute: Oh?

Me: It's Kurt!

Substitute: That's what I said.

Me: No it isn't. You said 'Kurt.'

Substitute: I...don't follow.

Me: It's Kurt! With some feeling, motherfucker!

Substitute: Did you just call me...?

Me: Did who?

Substitute: You!

Me: What's my name?

Substitute: Kurt!

Me: There you go. You did it, Mr. Brown.

Substitute: You can call me by my first name.

(I always loved substitute teachers that did this)

Me: Cool. What is it?

Substitute: Motherfucker. That's why I thought it was weird that you already knew my name.

Me: Your name is Motherfucker Brown?

Substitute: Yeah, I changed it from Kurt when I was in High School.

Things like that are fun to type because I have no idea where they're going when I start them.

I just want to let the affiliates know that this entry is going to go long. I have too much more I want to say on the subject of names. So, already, I'm breaking my own damn rules that I made about quantity over quality.

Another thing I'd do to change my name is give myself a suffix or prefix that adds something badass that people would have to call me. The first thing I would do is change my first name to Mister so that when people are being formal with me they have to call me Mister Mister. As soon as they'd do that I'd just start singing, "Take....these broken wings....and learn to fly again, and learn to live so free." But I'd really like to give myself a prefix like "The legendary" or "World Renowned Walrus Slayer." It would suck to have to fill my name out in things where there's a limited amount of space (especially like the damn SATs where you have to fill in the corresponding bubbles with the letters--fuck that shit), but it would be worth it to have my name called out at the DMV to renew my Driver's License. "Umm, could 'The Moving, Grooving, 170-pound Sex Machine Supreme Kurt' please come to the counter to get his new License photo taken please?" Then I'd look around all coy and walk up there with my gangsta walk and be like, "You rang, ho?" I'm so damn smooth.

This works the other way with suffixes as well. This will be the second of two scenes that you can print out and perform with your friends or for your local church.

I'd be sitting on the Witness Stand (oxymoronic action in itself) in court.

Lawyer: State your full name for the record please.

Me: Kurt ...

Lawyer: Okay, Mr. , I...

Me: I wasn't finished.

Lawyer: Oh. Please, continue. Your full name for the record.

Me: Kurt Can Beat Up Vampires and Has Totally Driven a Monster Truck Over Like A Hundred Cars Before and Is Pretty Sure That There Were Old People Or Maybe Some Dolphins Inside of Them And He Doesn't Care.

I don't have a fun ending for that one like I did the other one, but the fun part about performing these with your friends is that you can improvise the ending; that's why I left it open.

And, finally, here's a fun little story about how bad handwriting and the California education system can combine to make one of life's supposedly greatest moments into one of its most ridiculous and embarassing.

As I've mentioned before, my last name is mispronounced probably 95% of the time and it's only six letters. It's pronounced Duh-gun, not Doo-gun (not to be confused with an invention I'm working on). Well, at my High School Graduation, we were told to write our name out phonetically on a card and hand it to the woman who was announcing them. I know that my handwriting is horribly shitty so I concentrated on getting my last name perfectly legible--to me. I handed the card to the woman with confidence as I got ready to stride onto stage and accept life's passage into adulthood in the form of a piece of cardboard with my name written on it in computer caligraphy. I see her look down at the card and look up at the crowd with a smile on her face (that soon would fade as I would actually pluck both of her eyes from her face and swallow them whole when she mispronounces my name). She beams, "Kurt Dumb Gun." The crowd smatters (I think I just verbed the word 'smattering'--and now 'verb') with applause and a few people yelling back at her pronouncing my name correctly. I corrected it for her and made my march across the stage--leaving high school the way I had entered it: Awkward, embarassed, and covered in a strange woman's blood.

Interesting thought of the day:
Broken glass, when used as a spermacide, drastically reduces the possibility that a woman will become pregnant, but drastically increases the possibility of a vagina filled with glass (another phrase you'll have to put in google in a week or so).

Drop some comments about whatever you want and don't be too disappointed that I already went back on my word. Just think of me as your step-dad who "Really loves your momma and won't ever hit her again." Or email me.