Played hockey again for the first time in over a month. Thankfully, I acutally remember how to play, and came out of both games without re-injuring my ankle (or any other joints). Unfortunately, my second game started at 10:45, and finished up around 12:30. So now I'm left with the result -- it's 1AM and I'm not tired in the least.
Fortunately, start time at my office is pretty lax. And that's putting it mildly.
I went to Jamba Juice this morning (standard breakfast most mornings -- I'm too lazy to make my own), and there was an all-new crew there. During the week, the guys there know my name and just key it in, but on the weekend I have to take my chances. For some reason, no one can ever grasp the elegant simplicity of my name, and try to shoehorn it into something more mundane. Particularly in high-noise environments.
Today I ended up as "Clyde." I thought that was quite inventive, I haven't been Clyded before. More common variants are Sky, Fly, and Die. Umm, excuse me -- who would name their son "Die"? Talk about being born under a bad sign. For this reason I frequently revert to an alias, particularly if there are a lot of people and I risk missing my order because my name has mutated into "Steven". I prefer "Gary" or, when I'm feeling a bit saucy, "Guido" (which I'm more likely to respond to).
I once asked my parents why they picked "Guy" as a name. I was expecting a story about some long-lost beloved relative on some side of the family. Instead, I was told they picked my name because it couldn't possibly be shortened into a nickname. I suspect some long-standing mutual trauma in their past, because they gave my sister an un-shortenable name as well.
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