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Playing The Name Game

February 27, 2011

Liz is looking for a new name for her blog, and she’s the second one of my bloggish-ly inclined friends going through rebranding right now. This has caused my brain, which prides itself on having a good answer for *anything*, to cry surrender and settle down with my fingers in its ears.

Liz and I have a general understanding that we will, when confronted with a task requiring the mental dexterity of an over-caffeinated ape in a trapeze factory, look to the other for witty lightning strikes of pinpoint accuracy and luminescent brilliance. (Um, we look to the other from a careful and safe distance, of course, and don’t look until well after we’ve handed over a lightning-rod-shaped implement with a “Here, hold this, will you?”)

The system works, in its own ungainly and generally indecipherable fashion. The lightning-rod-holding party insists firmly that ideas are the responsibility of, well, not-them, but still always stands there looking up to the heavens in desperate hope of a friendly inspiration-dispensing rain cloud.

Repartee is bandied, bad jokes and puns-in-poor-taste are made, and we agree all around that these ideas are awful. We’re plenty amused, but the task at hand has usually, by this point, slipped through the fingers of our grasp and is hot-footing it away without looking over its shoulder.

I can’t come up with any bloody thing to suggest, and it’s making me angry.

Anyway, I’m off to take a stroll to the store. Maybe it’ll look like rain.

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