fadkog bo bog, banana fana fo fog, fee fie mo mog
it has come to my attention - literally about an hour after i started writing under the guise of "...for a different kind of girl" last fall - that i need a new moniker for my "blogging persona."
apparently, some of you have found it necessary to pack a hearty lunch, conduct a prayer service and then take a refreshing nap after typing out "for a different kind of girl" in response to my thought provoking and world changing views in your comment sections.
honestly? i don't blame you. naps are good. i wish i was taking one right now.
but i'm not. nope. because i'm here to entertain you. to charm you. to incite chaos in the streets after again referencing my kick ass rack (oh, one day my lovelies. one day...).
lately it seems this call to arms has sprung up around my blog circle with greater urgency. some of you know my given name, which, yeah! that's great and i'm fine with it because i probably handed it to you, but there's a part of me that doesn't want it on here. why? i'll tell you why. my basement is small, thus leaving me only a tiny space within which to bury the bodies of those who betray my confidence while still allowing my children to play matchbox cars. should my given name slip, you'd only have a tiny window of opportunity to try and escape me.
but you'd always be looking behind you. trust me. you can well imagine the first thing you'd see.
exactly. the kick ass rack. heh. listen to you, all cocky now, saying it would be worth it. that touch of bravado is the perfect time for me to make my move.
but back to the point. apparently it's time for me to have a nickname. i don't know who the first to use 'fadkog' was, but i give you credit for cutting to the chase. i thought i could get used to that, but i have to say, at this point, it sounds a bit like a disease.
"i'm sorry to have to tell you this, bob, but you have a raging case of fadkog. while we don't know all the ramifications yet, what we do know is that you can expect to grow a tremendously wonderful pair of breasts and think everything is kick ass."
so, because i'm lacking a bit in the creativity department lately (i think i'm coming down with a nasty case of fadkog, to be honest), i'm tossing the possibility of renaming me - not my blog - out to you. because you all charm and delight me.
however, there will be rules. without rules, there will be anarchy and i don't want to have to send anyone to their room. so my good imaginary friend tyler durden would like you to know the following: "hey, you created me. i didn't create some loser alter-ego to make myself feel better. take some responsibility!"
this essentially means no reference to my given name, should you possess that knowledge, should be used. and, um....well....that's about it. wait! be clever. consider what you've ascertained about me over these last few months and play with that.
oh, and i think i am allowing myself right of first refusal. a disclaimer that i may or may not opt to use what gets put out there. or, depending how many clever ideas i get (here's hoping this isn't a bust), i'll put it to a vote should i be unable to decide.
to get you started, here are some nicknames i've been given, either to me by someone else or by me, because do that sometimes. like when i'm dancing in the living room or the mini and i'm pretending i'm working for tips, if you catch what i'm saying:
- swik - short for 'she who is kick ass' given to me by the wonderful satan shortly after i started blogging and got sucked into ftn's real world blogger house. i sometimes use this in my 'real life,' despite the fact people then tend to look at me funny.
- mrs. hewson - for obvious reasons, this is what i refer to myself as when bono and i spend a saturday afternoon watching the kids play at the park after enjoying mcdonald's happy meals and counting our millions and millions of dollars.
- supremely ultimate kickass creature - you see the obvious problem with this, of course.
- mistress of good, avenger of evil - entirely accurate. still a little wordy.
so it's in your hands, my friends. you can either do this or not, you may work together as a group or show your independent spirit. keep in mind tyler and i are watching. he has gasoline and frozen orange juice concentrate at the ready, just in case, so even if our back's are turned, trust me. we know.
what's that? you want to know if there is a prize at the end? glimpses and glimmers, perhaps?
does it really have to be for the rewards?! what could i possibly give?
oh. one last thing. if any of you readers out there actually are named bob, i'm sorry that you found out about that nasty case of fadkog this way. if you need to talk, please reach out to us. you know you're among friends.