In the meantime, I will just pose a question: if your name was "Dick Slankard," would you emblazon it proudly on your work van (which, thank god, did not have its own set of balls)? Isn't that a terrible name? Poor guy. It just has such an unsavory feel. Yeah, I want my clogged pipes cleaned out by "Dick Slankard." Which reminds me of a funny moment--hey, maybe my brain HAS been stimulated. Years ago I was attending either the opera or ballet with a friend, and we were perusing the section of the program where they list all the financial contributors. One name popped out at me. (I wish to cast no aspersions on this man--I'm sure he's a swell guy, just like Dick Slankard.) I leaned over to my friend, pointed at the name--"Dick Risk"--and whispered, "yeah, I took one of those once." We giggled for quite a while, since, despite the fact that it wasn't THAT many years ago, we were apparently 12. Hee.
I can't wait to see what all this brain stimulation brings up next. Maybe I'll be back tomorrow with a charming story of how I once toilet papered someone's house. Oh, wait...that reminds me of the time my house GOT toilet papered. And shoe polished. (It was a little metal trailor. I was trailor trash for a while in college.) And you know what? That's just not that funny a story. I'll work out extra-hard tonight and see if I can come up with something better.