"Surly's doing the wrap? The hell you say? She doesn't even have a freakin' tiara of her own, who is she to judge us?" Oh yeah, I'm like the Mentalist on estrogen, and I can read your minds.  So, we'll be taking care of a little personal business first.

 There, done. I have mine.  Mind your manners if you want yours. Do not ever question my credentials again. Capiche?

Last Week's Winners

Audrey Ohley (I wonder if she'll let me braid her mane)

1 Irritated Mother (Gettin' a little somethin' somethin' from the Manning boy)

This Week In The World According To Surly

The one draw back to doing the wrap is that you actually have to read, which is a hard thing for a narcissist like me. I mean, if I didn't write it, it can't be good now can it?  On most days I just read my own posts over and over again; it's like masturbation with eye strain. I don't know about the rest of you, but that Recent Posts tab can be a daunting place. So much to read, so little time. Therefore, I am eternally grateful to everyone who submitted links this week. Many of the following people should be grateful too.  (Yes, cash gifts are appropriate.)

I know a lot of you bitch about Cartoon Saturday.  OS is a writing site, right? Well as the General says... "Pffft!" We've got some very creative people on OS who can write prose, poems, and even limericks. Not only can they pontificate and wax profane, but they can do it with text, crayons, paint, and cameras. One of my new fav's is Bruce Kasanoff, who shares the animation art of his partner Jim George with us on a regular basis.  You say dog and I look. Another multi-talented OSer is dirndl skirt.  Don't let the Heidiesque outfit scare you off; she's got a lot more going on under her apron than you would think.  In the few weeks she's been with us she's shared her portrait series illustrations, poems, and a few deep thoughts.

 Hells Bells! Hells Bells!  I just love saying that.  Talk about a fun name.  Talk about a fun, and well versed (pun intended) writer.  Smart lady, poignant poems, and even when she's lacking direction, she's got the instincts of a homing pigeon.  It also appears that  in this economy she's moonlighting as a real estate agent.

 As I'm sure a good number of you have guessed, I was a bit of a handful as a kid.  Back then we didn't have names and diagnoses for our behaviour other than "smart mouthing",  "insolent", and "truant."  Today's parents face a slightly different world and in her moving post Froggy tries her best to define living with a child who has ADHD. It's probably wrong that I want to ask her to slip me a few of her kid's pills, but if she really wants that tiara... From the other end of the spectrum, Lady Dove gives us a look at how much impact the smallest act of a parent can have on the life of a child. Good to know that there's enough guilt to go around.

One of the posting trends I love are the "serials" - like Frank Indiana's So It Was Cancer,  shaggylocks' Myra stories, and Femme Forte's been working on the legend of Cass.  Perhaps it is the hint of latin flavour (all aunts and uncles in my family are called Tia and Tio), but AtHomePilgrim's Mami series just warms my tortillas. Read it with chips and guacamole.

Now I don't consider myself to be a real writer. (Yes, I realize a lot of you don't either, and you can bite me.) I write whatever is in my head in the hopes that the voices will be quiet.  I rarely do much more than spell and grammar check before I post.  I am always in awe of those of you who pour over your words, revising, editing, twisting, and changing draft after draft.   This week I found a couple of treats that lets amateurs, like moi, watch the process play out and even allows snarky bastards like you lot to read unfinished work.  These are brave people like Miss Misk who shows us two versions of her flash fiction. (Turns out flash fiction has nothing to do with nudity, go figure.)  Another brave soul is InterestingDeletion, who has a really creepy avatar by the by, sharing with us an excerpt from an unfinished manuscript.

Speaking of real writers. We have a number of professionals living amongst us.  We all know That Darn Cat is famous amongst the gas pump jockeys and Ambien popping soccer moms of Canada and I've seen Steven Axelrod's opus in print.  This week, little Miss Texas Oklahoma, Julie Tarp, who has one of her screenplays in development in Hollywood, gives us a perfect example of how day to day life on the ranch would play out on the big screen.  She's totally ready for her close-up!

Because it is sacrilege to the holiness of the weekly tiara that I am doing the wrap this week, it seems fitting that I should include a post from a fellow heathen, Bellwether Vance, who had me with  "Dear God: Before this begins, I expect chopped peanuts for the use of "sodomite" in an unaccusing sentence."

Playing The Name Game

Remember The Name Game?  Sure you do.  If not, please take a moment to wax nostalgic with me.

 Now sing along with me!

Surly, Surly bo burly
Banana-fana-fo furly
Fee-fi-mo murly
Surly!

Our names, both in real life and in the la-la land of the internet, are important. Not only are they how others identify us, but they are how we identify ourselves.  We always laugh, chortle actually, when we discover that the blonde bimbo in the short skirt and clear plastic slides is named Candee or Bambi (with a heart over the i.)  We snort with relief because they so fit their names and their names don't fit us.  Unless you're a Hollywood actor, in Witness Protection, or on the lam, it's rare that you get to pick your own legal name.  The name you go through life with is usually something picked out by your parents; and it is usually meant to meet a familial obligation or fulfill a drug induced parental fantasy.  This explains Rush H. Limbaugh, Jr. and the kid in my sister's 3rd grade class named Stardust.

I have had a number of online pseudonyms, noms de plume, or noms de guerre since I first plugged in to the internet.  I have been Wet, Reverend Electra, Lucrezia Borgia, and most recently iamsurly. These monikers have always served a purpose for me.  In some cases they have been shields behind which I could hide myself so that creepy perverts and ex-boyfriends couldn't find me.  At other times, the names have suited my persona.  For 6 years I worked as a VP at Activeworlds as Lucrezia Borgia, and there are a number of people today who, although they know my real name, call me Lu or Lucrezia. When I met up with JK Brady and That Darn Cat in Toronto a few weeks back, neither of them could bring themselves to call me anything but Surly. (JK kept trying to get us to call her General to no avail.)  This is because iamsurly is my name as much as is my legal name. I firmly believe that you wouldn't necessarily read some of my drivel if it was written under the name of Ima Surly. (Surly is a legitimate last name by the by.)

In recent months there has been a landslide of real name revelations.  As far as I can tell it started with Chuck Stetson of Mean Mr. Mustard fame and has recently claimed Saturn Smith and TequilaandDonuts.  Everyone has their reasons for hiding or divulging their names. If you're up to outing yourself I say good on you.  However, I don't like the idea that I am required or obligated to share my name with you or that you must share yours with me.

There have been a number of posts and comments of late debating the name game. They are also playing the game of Facebook.  Everyone is looking up their name on the Urban Dictionary and posting the definition.  Sufficit to say mine compares me to a sea cow, so I'm not pleased.  However this is not always fun and games.  Some people have put forward the notion that one's opinions, writings, and life experience can not be taken at face value when proffered under the guise of a pseudonym.  I say pshaw. Stellaa, for example, is one of the smartest writers I've read on OS.  I don't need to know her real name to understand that she's well informed, does her homework, and can back up her arguments with citations and gumption. And it's just plain rude to demand she, or any of us, tell you our name to sate your curiosity.  Stop stalking each other on Google, and let's all take each other at our words.

Now that Big Salon has decided to integrate content from Little Salon, they are asking us to blog our posts under our real names.  Which really doesn't make a lick of sense to me.  Sure, I get it, they don't want posts on their site written by I Eat Toe Jam or Sexy Hooker With No Teeth. However, they don't actually post our blogs on their site.  They reformat our writing (and possibly edit it) and then upload it to their format.  They have standards that OS doesn't. (Clearly, they let me in didn't they?)  So I say, if you're going to put our witty or thoughtful prose on your site, and you want to use our real names, email us and ask us what it is.  Don't refuse to consider our posts just because we've written it under a moniker.  Don't make us call you names.

Much Ado About Tiaras

Ha! I made you read my entire rant before we got to the whole reason you're here! 

So, according to That Darn Cat, I'm not allowed to be the only person to whom I award a tiara.  To hell with the rules I say!  This is my day.  But since I'm magnanimous and all I'm offering this week's winners a choice.  You can either have one of the cheesy rhinestone encrusted tiaras that Cat gives out OR you can have a limited edition Sullied by Surly sash!

Well Hells Bells and Julie Tarp, what's it gonna be? (Keep in mind the sashes are a limited edition item and the tiaras come from the dollar store.)

Okay.  You may now return to your regularly scheduled reading.