Brain Blenders: Damn it feels good to be a Gangsta

by:a.brain

MOOOO. Ahem, excuse me, need to lower my voice, I meant, moo. Traveling by air always makes me feel like a cow, or rather a bull. Herded with the masses here, told to stand there. Crammed in a seat that truly does not fit my frame. Right now I am sitting right next to a fat guy named Carl (he told me his name, it’s not on his shirt or belt) with a gas problem. I know it’s you CARL. You are the only one in the plane that has the capacity to eat an entire package of hotdogs with kraut and onions. That’s the smell I’m getting, nitrate dogs, with all the fixings. Nope, wait now it smells like feet. I think Carl has eaten old hobo feet, with kraut and onions. Probably washed it down with a case of PBT. Damnit Carl is going to catch a bow from me in a minute, right in the neck. Then the 40 something with the hard eyes up the row and to the left is going to try to be Johnny on the Spot and get up in my grill. I’m going to drop him like a bad habit, and then kick college-age goth-boy right in the ear for being a goth. Not the good kind of goth, which is the slightly pouty looking hot-girl goth, but the I’m-going-to-plant-my-thirteen-gators-so-deep-in-your-behind-it-will-give-your-insides-some-style, dude-goth. After goth boy gets his, I’m going to turn on the guy in first class I passed laying into somebody on the other end of his cell, saying “How much support does she need from us. It’s time she grows up and starts to think for herself. The company can’t hold her hand all the way through her career.” He’s going to get a visit from my HR department today. Show him the meaning of support when I give him an atomic wedgey, the size of Montana. As a matter of fact, I think I could take most of the people sitting around me on this plane. And by “take” I don’t mean, out for shakes and chili fries, I do in fact mean I COULD WHOOP THEIR RED-BUTTED MONKEY ASSES!!!

Can you say aggressive boys and girls? Say it with me…ah –grey – suv.

Man, I really have to change the rotation on the iPod off of all this hardcore music. Public Enemy, LL’s early stuff, “I’m Bad” in particular, Beastie Boys, Ludacris, Method Man, Blink 182, Greenday, Busta Rhymes, The Roots, O.D.B., The Darkness, David Allen Coe, Jay Z, Nas, Ice Cube, Eminem, The Flaming Lips, The Elms, - you MORE than got the point right? Aaauughghh, fading into hard core, Need more Frank Sinatra, maybe some John Mayer, Cake, and Robert Randolph and the Family Band.

And the cattle herder (flight attendant) has got an attitude so thick you could touch it. What she needs is to go a little lighter on the scowl and foul. Maybe if I removed that very long stick from her rectum that would help her out. But, honestly being an air clown has got to suck like the toilet from the back of the plane in SEVERAL ways. And I’ll tell you how it sucks for ME right now, it sucks that every time she walks by me I get a “new”side (it has many facets) of her butt-cheek dragging my arm. No, it is not doing anything for me sexually, except messing up my arm hair, which I spent an hour combing out this morning. And she has to do the “Can I get a drink for you sir?” Uhm, yeah Cran-cherry. “Cran-cherry Juice? OKAY”

DAMNIT CARL! Nobody drinks that crap…she’s got to go back to flight attendant cubicle to get the ONE dusty can of Cran-cherry that is plugging the hole that is keeping the cabin from de-pressurizing, for your farting self. Just do like everyone else and order coffee, water, or some orange juice. It’s 6AM Carl. CRAN-CHERRY??!!! Son, you are next-door to top rung on the slap-o-meter Carlton!! I am making up new ways to shove your doughboy body out of the window at 20,000 feet.

Now I feel bad for air clown. I judged her harshly. She deals with the Carls, Goths, cell phone jackass’, and seething under the surface guys (me – in case you didn’t know) of the world. Man, her job sucks HARD, i.e. see toilet in the back of the plane. You know the upside people always use when they talk about their jobs. Like the proctologist says, well I get to save lives or help people live longer, when in reality they spend much of their career concentrated in the dirty nether regions. Or the local weather man says, I get to where these snappy plaid jackets and every so often I get a free six inch sub from Subway, when you know they pretend every night they are Al Roker and they are talking to Katie Couric. What’s her upside? I get to airbus to Cleveland??

Poor lady, I don’t see a ring on her finger. Maybe she’s available? You know the butt-brushes weren’t all that bad really. I mean she really does have nice eyes too.

If someone went ape nuts on my plane, I wonder what I’d do?

I really need to make a lot of money so I don’t have to fly with anyone else. I want Net-Jets to be waiting for me when I get to the field.

“Welcome Mr. Brain, so glad you could fly with us again. En route to Barbados with stops in New Orleans for lunch, and Miami Beach for a piece of Key Lime pie, and an inspection on your yacht.”

“Slight change of plans Captain. We are stopping in Cleveland to pick up Air Clown and then she and I have a large bag that smells like feet and sour kraut to drop in the swamp."