Help Name My Face-Flayer!
(NOTE: Based on time elapsed since the posting of this entry, the BS-o-meter calculates this is 14.472% likely to be something that Ferrett now regrets.)
For the last two weeks, I have been pressing a cold blade to my face and having it shear off my epidermis. This straight razor has removed hairs, supped on my blood, tasted my fear as I have learned to come to an uncomfortable balance with it.
Yet we have never been properly introduced.
As the lovely Sheryl points out, if I am going to have a blade, it should damn well have a name. I don’t really want to name it as a weapon, as if it’s drawing blood, it’s my own fault. Still, the blade is unforgiving, and I feel that perhaps granting it a semblance of the life it is so cheerfully nicking from my face might help me to keep things together.
So. What is my razor’s name? I’ll announce a winner sometime next week.
I vote Todd!
Saucy Jack.
Bobby Flay.
Foehammer.
The Vorpal Blade.
Smitty.
Vlad.
Occam.
Its name is Gleam.
Nick
(or Nic if you prefer a more Euro or female version)
For a less flayer-evoking name, go simply with Shiny.
Mack .. the knife
Rakish .. blade
Sweeney
Nicky
Wit
Captain Awkward, after the beautifully incisive Internet advice columnist.
Glam-dring
Æsahættr, Nothung or my favourite, Bronson – after Charles.
Oscar Wilde