Full of Hot Air - Piss & Vinegar Optional

One of my dear friends is about to have her first child. And is often the case of close friends, Stef and I have taken it upon ourselves to suggest some baby names. I'm proud of my naming prowess and I'm a bit snobby and opinionated about names.

Here is how I suggest names...

Me: (via text) Paloma!!!! I love it!

Me: (via email) Name that baby December.

Me: (to myself) Hmmmm. Maybe Parvati? Like the chick on Survivor. Wait. Parvati. Parvati. Sounds too much like poverty. Speaking of which, when am I going to get paid?

Sadly, all I've gotten to name lately is our new Christmas Betta fish.




Which I promptly named Moscone. And in a matter of minutes the name had been morphed into Macaroni -because I have kids and they have the upper hand. So stick a feather in your cap, Yankee Doodle. And it seems like a fitting to express the sorrowful passing of Bubbless. Which Erik killed. In his sleep. And only made it appear like the fish was found floating at the top of it's bowl the next morning. Crafty, that one. And maniacal.

So, not to make it seem like I'm forecasting the death of Moscone Macaroni, I want to go on record as saying the next living thing that comes into this family is getting named, Sir Bootleg Moonshine. Bootleg for short. Or just Boo. Isn't that a great name? Don't you hope it's another fish? Or you could just start training now to sic your Maxwell on him/her after school at the playground.