The name game

Sometimes (ok, most of the time) I like to play a fun, silly game of “Who Should Kristin Marry?”

The game really has nothing to do with finding a good match for me or even someone I’m remotely attracted to. It’s all in the name.

What’s the point of having a color name unless you can have a little fun with it? I love to find people with last names that if hyphenated with Brown would be a hilarious new last name for me.

For instance, I once worked with a lawyer whose last name is Cherry. Brown-Cherry would be funny.

So would Brown-Mann.

Kristin Brown-Stone.

Kristin Brown-Starr.

And forget a white Christmas; there could be a Brown-Winter!

Of course, other colors are also funny:
Kristin Brown-Green
Kristin Brown-Teal
Brown-White
Brown-Gray

It’s also funny to take the game one step further and pick out wedding favors for these fantasy unions!

If I were to marry Senator Sheldon Whitehouse (or his much younger nephew or son—although I’m not sure he actually has either), our wedding favors could be little milk chocolate White Houses (not to say anything about the Senator’s political aspirations)! If I were to marry someone with another color last name, the favors could be boxes of crayons with the two colors tied together with a little ribbon! Ha!

I think this game is just too funny. Every time I meet a new person whose last name fits with the game, I can’t help but giggle.

The lesson here to potential suitors: it may not ultimately work between us unless your name is really funny hyphenated with my last name—or unless you come at me with a really big diamond.

At least I think I’ll strike back if ever actually attacked

A couple years ago a man known in the media and on the mean streets of Arlington, VA, as The Bagger held women on the orange line of the Arlington-area metro to a state of constant alertness and mild fear.

The Bagger’s MO was to run up behind women, put a plastic grocery bag over their heads and assault them. He was rarely ever able to go all the way through with his attack, though, as the women were usually able to fight him off—no doubt a lesson to would-be attackers: don’t come after the super-motivated, ultra-savvy women of this area because we will bite back (ask some of the unfortunate guys who have unsuccessfully tried to use a stupid line in hitting on us at bars!).

One day, I was walking home from the metro and noticed a shady-looking guy lurking and holding an empty CVS bag. Convinced he was the bagger and I was his next target, I kept him in my periphery, very aware of where he was, as we walked towards my apartment.

I should probably point out, in the interest of full disclosure, that most of my walk from the metro to my apartment is directly in front of the police station. There is no shortage of lawmen wandering around, keeping an eye on things. It’d have to be a really stupid criminal to try and attack someone here, but nonetheless, I was ready for it to happen.

As I was approaching the final few feet before I was home, The Bagger started running for me! I heard his footsteps nearing me, so I braced myself for my counterattack: I started taking my purse (which, like any good stiletto-clad working girl knows, contained a pair of shoes and various other nonsense that would make a serious dent in someone’s head) off my shoulder, poised for action.

Closer…

Closer…

Right behind me!!

I screamed and swung! AAAAAAAAAAAAAAARRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRGGGGGGGGGGGGGHHHHHHHHHHHHHH!!!!!!!!!!!

A regular-guy jogger with empty hands stared back, incredulous, like I was totally insane for trying for attack him.

A little afraid for his life instead of mine now, he ran a little faster as I tried to explain I thought he was The Bagger and realized he was actually kind of cute.

In case you were wondering, swinging your giant purse at a stranger is not a way to create a love connection.