Thursday, August 4, 2011

What's in a name?

So this morning on my way to work, I almost hit a vulture. It was sitting in the middle of the road with four of its homies, who intelligently flew away as I approached, and it just stared at my car. It was playing Chicken with me (identity crisis much?). Little did it know that I never back down from a game of Chicken, even if it means running over bunnies, squirrels or your kids (I'm totally lying. I've only run over a snake so far, and I cried afterwards). Anyway, I ended up winning. Sissy-ass bird flew off at the last minute.

I was still pondering this victory when I passed a sign for "Blue Mist Pet Grooming".

"Blue Mist?" I thought to myself, immediately considering what this mythical place must look like. Perhaps it is situated on an island, surrounded by a mysterious azure fog. Perhaps they employee the legendary "Blue Mist" grooming technique, which I've heard tell leaks from a hose and simply shears all of the hair off of your pet in seconds. Seriously, though, what the crap kinda name is that for a Pet Grooming business? Or any business, at that? Did they think it sounded cool?

Not that I am not guilty myself. Growing up (and I mean when I was like 13-15, not 5 as I might make you all believe in a less honest moment) I used to tell everyone that my parents named me "Persephone" and that Amber was my middle name. I supposedly just went by Amber because I found Persephone to be crazy. In truth, I thought it made me sound unique and bad-ass, rather than like a stripper (you KNOW Amber's a stripper name, don't even lie). I even had my spanish teacher call me "Persephone" ('Per-step-a-nie' is how he pronounced it) for my entire freshman year of high school, and acted like it annoyed me, making a big show of rolling my eyes. Everyone just assumed that my parents were big into Greek Mythology, or "hippies" and shrugged. I was convinced that I was a master manipulator, and also the coolest person in school. No one else was named Perstepanie.

Which brings me to the name of this blog. I wanted something that sounded much cooler than "Amber Bartell's Dumb Blog That No One Will Read Ever", even though that probably would have been far more accurate. I picked 'Pretty in Puke' because I actually made this when Zee was still a wee little baby, and I was still a hormonal wreck trying to establish myself as a new mother-of-two while still looking good despite my freshly flat-ironed hair being crusted with spit up. After my first post, I promptly googled my blog name- partially because I'd forgotten my blog address, and admittedly, partially because I wanted to see if I'd somehow achieved instant internet fame. I hadn't, but I'll be damned if there aren't five million things out there called 'Pretty in Puke'. Bands, other blogs, a bunch of other shit that meant nothing to me and therefore was instantly forgotten. My blog wasn't anywhere on the first five pages, by the way. I may have muttered explitives at the screen and gone back to the drawing board considering blog names. Thinking I might incorporate "Blue Mist" somehow. Maybe "Persteponie's Blue Mist Blog"?

This basically sums it up. Notice Zoey's bemused golf clap.

1 comment:

  1. Well, I think you're lovely and hysterical, in puke or not. Also, if it makes you feel better, I convinced a few people that I had dissociative identity disorder . . . one of my personalities was a southerner named Lucy. I'll introduce you sometime. :-)