Once again it’s nearly time for the MN Renaissance Festival to begin. I’ve worked at Fest now for twelve years. I’ve been a t-shirt-and-mug-pusher, a beer wench, a balloon blower, a calligrapher, a gate guard, and even an entire BAND for the bellydancers (that’s right, I OWNED running that ipod, bitches).
And still after all that time, I’ll be “Mrs. Titts.” Because my husband’s been at Fest every season for over 20 years, and at least 95% of the regulars don’t know his actual name: just his nickname. Of course, those who DO know him outside of that environment often call him Titts anyway, because he doesn’t usually answer to his actual name out there. Snort.
A side effect of my introvertedness is that a lot of people often don’t remember my name (he does introduce me as ME, people): they just remember I’m Titts’s wife. It would grate on my self esteem a little, except that I generally don’t want to know all those acquaintances we only see at Fest anyway: I have all the drama and relationship-sustaining duties I can handle. Ha!
However, should I start that sex/relationship/advice blog I keep thinking about, it’ll decidedly be “Mrs. Titts” related, because I can’t make that shit up. Perhaps “That’s MRS. Titts To You.”
In other news, Husband (lordy, I should just start calling him Titts here so he has a nickname instead of an office title) is either amused or baffled because I put “hair doodies” as an option on my birthday list. More about birthdays later, I’m sure, but he’s been hounding me about the word “doodies” all day. It’s probably not even a word… NOPE! According to spellchecker it’s not. Fuck you, spellchecker.
UPDATE: To clarify, I’m pretty happy as Mrs. Titts in general. 🙂 The people who make it through the first border of STAY-AWAY-FROM-ME all know my real name, and I’m quite happy they’ve remembered, but I’m just as happy having an alternate name in a place with so many random people. It’s a buffer. I use it as such pretty shamelessly. The week or two before Fest is just a little weird as I work on putting on “Mrs. Titts.” It’s a like corset…perfect in certain situations, but it’s not all I wear. 🙂
What the hell. Clearly I wrote this post REALLY poorly, judging from the snarky responses I’ve gotten. This post is about me being a big weenie and hiding behind my husband’s amusingly inappropriate nickname at a place where I 1) don’t know NEARLY as many people as he does and 2) often get overwhelmed by too many peeps, anxiety kicks in, and I don’t always want to be known by every goddamn participant and patron on the grounds.
This post is NOT about whether you know my husband’s real name. If you’ve known him since you were kids, went to school with him, have been to our house, have fucked him, have had drinks with him outside of fest…etc etc etc etc OF COURSE you know his real name. Good for you! The fact remains there is a large Fest population I don’t ever see or know outside of that microcosm…and to them I’m perfectly happy to remain Mrs. Titts. In case you missed the point, that’s what I was writing about.
Also, it’s apparent that not only was this particular topic a fail humor-wise (that’s cool, I can’t always be funny) it was also a pretty epic fail for my anxiety, since I’ve been irritated over this all goddamn day and rewrote crap here a zillion times.
FYI: I exaggerate. A lot. Get used to it.