I wrote this recently after notifying the last of my friends about my name change.
The last vestiges of my maiden name have been shed by sending this e-mail. I just wanted to point out that it’s been an incredibly difficult process getting rid of the Captain Kirk of last names (My name also made space babies with green bitches, that’s the analogy. Get it?!).
First of all, my married name means “Goatherder.” Fuck that. I don’t know what Nobeard means but it’s probably something like “Master of Delicious Penne” or “Swarthy Rum Dog” or something. Also, my husband has no idea how to properly pronounce his own name in his parent’s native tongue, thus, *I* have no idea how to say my own damn name now. Exhibit C, I loved my name. I REALLY loved my name.
So, why did I change it? Because hyphenating would have produced a hypertrophied, carpal tunnel inducing nightmare (with too many “i’s”), and I’m lazy enough that giving up a part of my identity seemed better than writing all those extra letters. (I have other, more serious reasons as well. I think.) So here I am. It’s weird when mail comes for the “Mrs.,” because I don’t see an old bitch covered in diamonds standing around. I open those letters for the Mrs., trying to be a good samaritan and get her shit together while she’s away. Maybe one day she’ll come around to collect it all and in true Nobeard fashion I can get back to sexing up all those hoes in the galaxy that need a good, deep naming.
September 27th, 2009 at 12:29 pm
According to one website, our last name also means “stubborn man,” which, now that I think about it, may only serve as fuel for your fire. It definitely doesn’t mean “man who thinks before he speaks.”