Every now and then I mention with a certain level of reserved and weirded-out amusement that my grandmom has updated me on a particular relative's desire to get to know me better. Some time in the distant past, when I was somewhere near a junior or senior in high school, at one of the larger family gatherings on my mom's side, there was this guy.. some distantish linked through my grandmom relation. I didn't notice anything particular about him while there, or spend any time talking with him, or even remember his name however many days later it came up. Why did it come up, you ask? Because this relative of mine decided that he would like to get to know me, Biblically. (By Biblically I of course mean we unite our families through arranged marriage and start a tribe somewhere.) What was it about me that impressed him so? For one, I'm Armenian. (Well, 25% Armenian. And that's damned impressive.) For two, I was a Christian. (Back in the day, 100% baby.) This combination being impossible to resist in a potential spawning partner, he contacted my G-mom several times expressing interest in becoming better aquainted. As he lived in California, it was an easy proposition to blow off. My family being mostly normal, they mostly blew it off, too. But you know, every couple of years my G-mom would tell me she'd talked to him this, and he was still interested that, and could he set up a dinner with my family to get to know me better the other. She'd comment in that remarkably not offhand way that "he's a doctor, you know." This particular G-mom is usually one of the better eggs.. the kind that only nags about education and never begs for kids or marriage or bling. I guess a grandmom is a grandmom though.. and she couldn't resist those urges to remind me if I wanted to waste my life I could at least waste my life with a lot of money. Hell, what do I know.. maybe she was hoping with a doc under my wing she'd be all the better positioned to shove me back into college.
This afternoon when I was at my mom's, she let me know that this guy asked her mom for my email address. That whole "getting to know me" business. Because I'm the only available partial Armenian ex-X-ian he's ever met, I presume. She even told me they'd tried to explain to him that I'm different now. That I've, you know, boinked men. He would not be dissuaded! So I said I'll do it. I'll give an email addy and even write back. I want to know what's in the head of a guy this dumb. I want to know what the fuck's going on. I want to maybe talk some sense into him. "Look. Dude. Err, Uncle Dude. There are swarthy chicks in California.", etc.
As I am ever paranoid, I didn't want to use any of my pre-existing accounts. I'm pretty blank on names though. (Yes, there is a point to this that's not to merely inform you of the latent deviancy of my blood relations.) So yeah, what I want you to do is Name My Crazy Inbred Email Account!! I made it not-viewable so no Jerky McJerkfaces steal my heard-earned email prospects, of course.
Give me the email name that is my birthright!!
My mom, in her infinite gentility, reminded me "Hotsex69" might not be the best choice. I laughed through clenched teeth and said, "Yeah, well, that's not exactly my style mom." She said, "Yeah, well.. sleepingsickness...", and trailed off knowingly. I skipped handing her a dictionary, commenting on her inexplicably gutterminded assumption, or anything else that would delay my hasty retreat.