A young, naive fictional girl once said, "What's in a name? That which we call a rose, by any other name would smell as sweet." With this in mind, I noticed a rose sitting on the desk of one of my co-workers the other day. I decided to test this theory by starting a conversation with "I see you're growing an intestinous stenchweed on your desk." Thereafter, she refused to sniff it - even when I stuck it in her face and asked nicely!! It only took one disturbed co-worker for me to ultimately deduce that names bear great meaning, and little Juliet had no idea what she was talking about. Who wrote her lines, anyway?
Therefore, after contemplating long and hard on the matter, I've decided to name my first son Garrison Keylor Bayron. Only a name like that would strike both terror and utter confusion into the hearts and souls of his peers, for his entire life. Oh, and by "son," I actually mean "imaginary pet rat." Mostly because an imaginary pet rat is most probably the highest form of life (imaginary or not) upon which my loving wife would actually let me bestow such a God-awful name. I mean, there are some names that when you hear them, the only thing that comes to your mind is a picture of this guy...
...and the smell of stale popcorn. I just realized that I've been aimlessly typing for the last 15 minutes for absolutely no reason. It's amazing, the things that come out when you just sit down word-vomit every now and again. I'm pretty sure I have work to do. Or something.
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