Me: My brain hates me today. It is a block of wood on top of my neck mocking me about my inability to form sentences.
Wuffie: *head pets*. That’s no good on the block headiness! Or should that be headedness?
Me: I don’t even know anymore.
On the up side, if you don’t sleep at all and you stop understanding the concept of time, buttons on the internet become strangely fascinating. Due to this I have discovered that my renegade Time Lord name is The Commander. Which is good to know, in case it ever comes up. If you’re bored and on the internet right now (And come on, you are, aren’t you? You can tell me) you could find out your very own renegade Time Lord name. Aren’t you excited?
With my new title in hand I spent a little while arguing with Google about the fact that it wouldn’t load* — apparently it was unimpressed with me telling it that The Commander demanded its assistance. I don’t think that was any reason to start insisting I fill in captcha codes before it would perform searches for me though.
Rick: Hi, honey. Sitting around with a bottle of port?
Me: Oh. Yeah. That’s Paul’s fault. I had nothing to do with it. Aside from the drinking it part.
But while Google was refusing to play with me I made another discovery. I found out that there are a lot of letters in my name. To be fair, I did already know this, but other than being a bit sad about it when I have to fill in forms it’s not something I think about a lot. But it is advantageous if you’re creating anagrams.
It’s been a long time since I tried rearranging the letters in my name for fun and profit but there’s this website now that will do it for you. And it has very strong opinions about which anagrams are the funniest.
It told me that my name might mean: VIVID CRACK AS NAKED ANATHEMA. I was ambivalent about that so I gave it the other version of my name to play with and it suggested that perhaps my name meant: OK! HA HA! DRACONIAN VENDETTAS. Which I thought was pretty awesome. Cause that’s not a terrible description of the series of books I’m writing. Clearly this website is very clever. It knows me.
But then I wondered, what happens if I just use my first name? Without all those entertaining extra letters that the rest of my name provides, surely it won’t be able to be that funny. I mean, seriously, what brilliant thing is it going to come up with only seven letters?
It smiles that overconfident smile*, shuffles the letters and says the best anagram for my first name is AND CAKE. AND CAKE.
So okay, fine. Maybe it was right to be confident.
* Yes, seriously. The rest of the internet, fine. Sure. Google — not so much.
** Yes, the website has an overconfident smile. Hush.