I was recently discussing with one of my blogging collegues and an as of yet non-blogger the content of our respective or theoritical blogs. I have avoided the somewhat traditional family photos and mushy anecdotes about my cuter then yours kids. However this leaves me in the stuffy, my thoughts are deeper than yours camp. I am not sure that excessive depth has ever been an insult levied at me. So all of these has inspired me to not fall into the trap of thinking my excessively lengthy opinions are what the world is dying to read. And by world I mean the 3 people that read my blog.
That brings me to my first funny observation of the day. I recently was chatting with my brother which in and of itself may not seem like a special occasion since he lives locally. However he might as well live on the moon as often as we see each other. The subject of my entrance into the blogging world came up and he commented that he heard I was blogging and that it was quite good. I was startled by that accusation so I forced him to tell me who had made such an egregious error in judgement. He told me our mother had told him although in the same sentence he mentioned that he didn't think she had actually read it. I found this humorous on multiple levels. Most of all it just reminded me of the power of a mother's love. She just knows I am blogging and she loves me so that is good enough. It must be great. She may or may not even know what a blog is. It could be a contagious disease but since I am her child I will do it better than anyone else. So in case you ever do read it - thanks Mom. I burnt some chicken last night but I did it to the best of my ability - you would have been so proud.
Finally, I was a little bored - ok a lot of bored this morning at my on again off again career as a barista. I started playing the ridiculous what can I google game. After googling some long lost friends (Peter you should totally give the dude his $100 deposit back) I lamely googled my name. Several references came up but the one that caught my eye was the apparent arabic meaning of my last name Raad. It means thunder. Now other than the obvious flatulant implications I was most excited to find that there is a Raad missle. How many people have a missle named after them? I mean seriously. I have only begun to explore the myriad of possibilities of how I can use this information. For the sake of keeping this blog PG rated I will stop there but this has greatly increased my enjoyment of an oft mis-spelled & mis-pronounced name.
Well, I have to blast off (get it - I am a missle) but this has been fun. At least for me. And probable my mom whether she reads it or not.
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3 comments:
how funny ! Bard is the name of a catheter - so every time I've been in the hospital my last name is plastered across the catheter and every nurse and doctor thinks it is quite funny to point out ! I'd rather have a missle named after me ! This is why I should have kept my nice Irish last name (McNulty) !
That was thoroughly enjoyable to read, not boring at all!
I got the opposite end of that spectrum. I have a first name that every one in the world knows a cuss word that rymes with it. it makes the name game fun though.
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