tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3874524001993901157.post8153974638805115008..comments2023-08-09T04:38:38.833-07:00Comments on Confessions of a young Playwright: Email from Michael Stacey: What's in a Name?Miss Pearsonhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13359513429010956835noreply@blogger.comBlogger1125tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3874524001993901157.post-50848948563656214752007-03-27T16:04:00.000-07:002007-03-27T16:04:00.000-07:00A brutally honest list of the things I think about...A brutally honest list of the things I think about the first three things I can force into my head when I think of the names Deborah or Debbie that aren't you:<BR/><BR/>Debbie<BR/><BR/>1) Debbie McGee - creepy assistant/wife to midgit magician Paul Daniels.<BR/>2) Debbie Does Dallas<BR/>3) Bees.<BR/><BR/>Deborah<BR/>1) We were born within an hour of each other, our mothers said we could be sister and brother...<BR/>2) Someone akin to the hefty comic book whale girl in our Shakespeare class saying the name deborah in the dowdiest voice imaginable<BR/>3) Zebras.<BR/><BR/>This list is entirely truthful and demonstrates more than anything the absence of any decent referents (or deborahs)in my life. Proust is turning in his grave.Andrew Fieldhttps://www.blogger.com/profile/00837535447180621963noreply@blogger.com