More things I've learned to save you time and money. And probably embarrassment, who knows.

Know your blood type. (type O+)

Know your ring size. (size 5)

Not only does this mean you now have free reign to buy me as many rings as you want, it also means that even though I'm a universal donor you might not want my blood. Because somewhere in between those red and white blood cells lies something ignorant that will not know my ring size but will order on a guesstimate anyway. This something also makes me fifteen minutes late wherever I go. That's not so bad, but spending about thirty extra bucks in back-and-forth shipping and handling is just plain stupid. But hey, with all the assorted nuts who've fallen out of my family tree so far, genetically speaking, ignorance may be the smallest problem I have floating around in there.

Note to self: throw chlorine in gene pool.

Getting married and thinking about changing your last name is just odd. Guys don't care, it doesn't apply directly, I understand that. Even though I like my last name, I think it's unique, no one seems to get it. My name has rarely ever been spelled or pronounced correctly as far back as I can remember. For awhile, I kept every misspelling that arrived in my In Box at work.

Logan

Legon

Leggat

Ligan

Ligon

Miss Beth Annie Leagan, Jr. was my all time favorite one.

Common mispronunciations include (but are not limited to) Lincoln, La Gan, Leggin, Leggun, and La Gun (which I actually like a lot).

I've always been envious of anyone who could just blurt out "Bob Jenkins" or "Edna Whitehurst" and be done with it. Ted Bundy. Jennifer Lopez. Tori Spelling. Sure you know 'em, but even if you didn't, they wouldn't have to spell it out.

"Yes, I'd like one ButtBombinator 2003 exercise toy sent to Tori Spelling*..."

*I'd like to use Natalie Maines in that last statement, but she probably had to spell her name out a lot, too.

"Yeah, three large pepperoni pizzas to Nattie Maines with an 'e'."**

** Like they need to know how to spell her name to deliver a pizza. As if, Natalie. Three points for me.

"Bond, James Bond" throws me. Although I know he did that for impact, once I tried that one out and received a stare so blank I thought I heard a test pattern sound-off.

Charles Manson. Robert Blake. O.J. Simpson... Why do I keep using murderers for examples. I have to stop that. It's that damned "something" I mentioned earlier.

Tina Turner. Audrey Hepburn. Richard Burton. Elton John. Big Bird.

Me? I have the longest surname without the pleasure of being European. It's all just phonetics:

"uh huh, right, it's 'Leeeegann Elli-Gee-Yoo-En Leegan'..."

So let's say I change my name to Ron's last name. I would miss the quirked mispellings. But here's the best part about the process: Instantly, I become the newest member of the witness protection program. At least for a moment in time, I would become invisible to the junk mailers, disappearing without much trace to the handful of bi-polar, manic, ex-college roommates. And to those nutball family members who insist on ruining everybody's day (or really late night, preferably around holidays) with a drunken phone call. Would changing my last name give me the hope of a shiny new freak-free life and future?

I think I've answered my own question.

It's gonna be so nice to sleep late around the holidays again.