Okay, so a very long, long time ago I decided that I either needed a) to marry Joolz Holland so my married name could be Julie Holland, or b) to marry The Edge so my married name could be The Julie.
I blew the first one myself. I was invited to be in the audience for the Joolz Holland show. And on my way to the studio, walking down the corridor, who did I see but Mr Holland himself. Did I rush up to him, throw myself on bended knee and ask for his hand in matrimony? Did I smile and offer an irresistible chat-up line? Did I even manage to bat a single eyelash?
No I did not. I didn’t even catch his eye. My only achievements for the evening were smelling Boy George’s cologne, and touching Chris Isaak’s hand.
The second one…well, the second one, I had high hopes for. My friend (who shall be known only as L.) went to see U2 in Cardiff last night. I gave her explicit instructions to bag The Edge for me, and bring him back to Reading so I could marry him. Who cares about bigamy when the stakes are as high as this?
But she failed. She claims she didn’t have room for him in the car, or some such fool excuse. Excuse me, L., this is my life we’re talking about here! Hello!
Why, oh why, didn’t I think seriously about my married name before I jumped into matrimony? I could have had anyone…not just Mr Holland or Mr The Edge, I could have married someone called Von Flugelhorn or Zeus or even ShaZam!
Instead, foolish me, I married for love, and chose…a man named Smith.
Ahh Julie you kill me! ShaZam! Now I’m thinking of rushing out to change my own name – make it a little more interesting…
She probably heard what you did to our dear Mr. Tyler, and thought better of it.
Y’know, I thought this was going to be a post about you and David Tennant. Am all disappointed now. The Edge? (Course, you could marry Bono. Then you’d be Julie Vox. And if you adopt a strange accent, you could make that Julie Rocks…)
We can all call you The Julie, if that’s what you’d really like
Well, I’ve always called you The Julie.
“Who’s doing the workshop on pace?” people say.
“Julie,” I reply.
“Which Julie?”
“The Julie.”
“Oh. Julie Sex, you mean?”
“Yes. The Julie.”
Lacey, you’ve got a great last name as it is! Devlin…short for “The Devil Inside”, right?
Ehle, that was NOT ME!
Sheesh.
I mean, I wasn’t even going for Stephen’s shoulder…
Kate, I keep most of the fantasies about me and David Tennant strictly to myself.
I don’t actually even like U2. It’s just the marriage possibilities that intrigue me.
“Julie Sex”?
Now *that* offers possibilities… LOL!
Oh my, how I have just laughed. I’m suffering writer’s block today so I’m perusing other writer’s blogs in the hope of finding inspiration and tips on how to get these words out. But I’m glad I stumbled here because I always thought that I would marry someone with a hugely exotic name as Griffin always sounded very un-inspirational to me … and I married for love … and I married a Smith too. So, the Griffin stayed for my writing because at least it sounds a little magical – when not said in a gritty North Yorkshire accent like my fathers, of course
LOL Alice! We’re in the same Smith boat. Maybe that’s why the name is so common…because the men are irresistible! Natural selection in action.
Exotic names are over-rated; plus you get tired of spelling them. Whenever I have to give my mother’s maiden name I say it, pause, then automatically add ‘Capital-em-small-see-capital-ell-oh-you-gee-aitch-ell-eye-en’.
Maybe there’s a reason she married a guy named Johnson. It’s probably telling that her sister married a Smith…
[...] had an interesting day yesterday. For one thing, I was hungover because my friend L., who failed to procure me The Edge for matrimonial purposes, instead went out for tapas and sangria with me and we accordingly returned to our respective homes [...]
Yes, but how do you spell “etaknosnhoj”??