I have always insisted on being called Laura because of this history.
My father's retort when I was wee (so I've only heard in stories) always that Jenny was a mule or a plane and I was his daughter, so make it the whole long name thankyouverymuch.
I'll go by Jen quite happily and usually -- but I loathe Jenny with the heat of a thousand firey suns for myself. Oddly, it works great for me on other people.
Freelancers shouldn't hem and haw so much when I call for quotes. In trying to come up with enough information for him to throw numbers at me, I just figured out that I can do the job myself. Along with the first little job I was going to toss in for updating some Web site information.
And can I just say that I can't type that word or say it without feeling like I have to explain big bad back injury and massive pain and my four-day supply lasted two weeks so I am not really really really not becoming a junkie.
Honey, it's okay. My doctor finally wrote me a scrip for 60 Percosets toward the end of the whole face thing, after I burned through 4 scrips for 20 each in about 3 weeks. She was very stern about me taking enough, because I hated feeling like a junkie, too.
The plus side is I now have a fuckload of Percoset. Which I will be forcing on my husband tonight, so he can break the pain cycle and stop feeling sorry for himself.
Alistair is better than Willie. William is a fine name, and Will, Billy, and even Bill are acceptable nicks for the same. But there's nothing manly about Willie. Too much of a wee association there
Willie Mays? Willie McGee? Willie Wilson? Willie McCovey? Willie Stargell? Wee Willie Keeler?
Heck, four of those six people are HoFers, and that's of 61 Willies (though some were Bills e.g. Bill Foster).
There has never been an Alistair who has played in the majors. Ever. Not by any of the alternative spellings, either.
And let's be honest: Willie McGee sounds like a baseball player. Alistair McGee sounds like...
Come hear the sad story of Alistair McGee
They found him a-floating face-down by the quay....
Ahem! Please put your librarian stereotypes away.
All the librarians I know are super-cool and sexy people. That's the librarian stereotype in JilliLand.
All the librarians I know are super-cool and sexy people.
I hear most of them are secretly spies.
I hear most of them are secretly spies.
::fires up sooperseekrit camera network and aims it towards KC::
Me: "Uh... when the hell am I supposed to be selling you on fatherhood? It's not like I'm gonna get steak knives for every couple that gets knocked up."
No, just the tenth. It goes:
key chain
manual can opener
rechargeable flashlight
corkscrew
toaster
DW40 Gift Pack
clicky fire stick thingie
electric can opener
coffee maker
steak knives
The knives are pretty nice, though.
I'm with Hec on this. It's too old, too English, too hothouse, too... not guy.
Thank you, dw!
Emmett's full name: Emmett Jack Devine Smay.
Not the non-Divine spelling of the perfectly unfabulous Irish surname. His maternal grandfather being Jack Devine.
FWIW, Emmett's coach on the tournament team, Wayne, made note of his name in baseball terms. When the (somewhat drunk) coaches from the opposing team tried to trade a case of Fritos and half a twelvepack for "that blond kid who pitched the first three innings."
Wayne: "Yeah, he's a good ball player. And he's got a great baseball name."
Other Coaches: "Really? What's that?"
Wayne: "Emmett Smay."
Other Coaches: "Ooooh, yeah, that's a good baseball name."
And can I ask that we stop talking about the perceived attributes of Emmett's name? Because, as I think we all know around here, critiquing a parent's name choice doesn't end well. It's hard to separate the commentary from the actual kid in question.
Alistair is a theoretical name in this community. Emmett is my son.
When y'all are talking about a theoretical Emmett the drag queen who is getting his ass kicked in the playground it doesn't play as a theoretical example in my head.
I'm sad now.
I like Gud, but he knows our secret, so we must kill him.
It's in the handbook, you know.
Also, I heart Jilli.
I feel like a junkie because I can call my doctor and say "Hey. It hurts a lot. Can I have some heavy painkillers?" and he'll call in a prescription.
Hell -- I don't call the doctor. I just leave a message at the front desk. He doesn't seem to care much what "it" is. I think he just doesn't want me to come in. That's the same way I got my last physical therapy prescription. Over the phone.
