This is possibly the greatest candid photo of me that has ever existed. It was taken by Andy Lobban, a dirty Scottish bloke that I met at SXSW. He was snapping photos the entire night, but the photo isn’t really what’s important in this post—it just happens to be awesome.

The thing I really like about this photo is that I don’t think I could recreate that face even if I tried. I’m pretty sure that’s a drunk-only kind of face. Well, I suppose it might not be a drunk-only face, but this is a civil place full of civil ideas and I don’t think it’s appropriate for some of the older readers in the audience.

Notice the name tag

I can’t remember when, but at some point we went to a party where we had to put name tags on. I think it was after the I Can Haz Cheezburger party. Well, Andy took it upon himself to give me a new name. He slapped Gertrude on my chest.

I’d love to tell you that I thought of something really creative in my enlightened state but I didn’t. I gave Andy a name tag with Seamus. It seemed like a really Scottish name to me at the time, but it’s an Irish name—which that kind of ignorance actually seems hilarious to me now.

The rest of the night is pretty much a blur now. But, let’s just say, I forgot all about the name exchange.

Unpacking Gertrude

Three or four days later, when I got home—after three or four more days of free drinks everywhere I went—I started unpacking my jam-packed suitcase and sorted the dirty and clean clothes with Leah.

Some how, whether I removed it that fateful night or it just fell off, the Gertrude name tag was lying in the bottom of my suitcase and I didn’t find it first.

Yes, Leah found a sticker with “Hello my name is Gertrude” laying in the bottom of my suitcase. And before I go any further let me just remind you that for the past 5 days drinking copiously in another country and, at that point, Leah didn’t know there aren’t actually any women at SXSWi.

Who’s Gertrude?

What? Who? I turned around to see that name tag. And that night with Andy all came rushing back to me. I laughed when I remembered, but I don’t know if Leah got the joke yet. If she could’ve, she would have raised an eyebrow (she can’t raise one eyebrow, it’s very cute). She waited patiently for my answer.

Gertrude, to me, sounds like a naughty librarian who goes to nerd-ups and traps young geeks in her sexy-times web and, at that moment, Leah might have thought I was the latest victim.

Have you ever been in a situation where the truth sounds more like a lie? Because this is the exact situation. It was like being in a sitcom. As I began explaining to Leah—that Andy is a total ballbag—it sounded like a lie. Because Leah held all the power. She had the evidence and the axe. Leah is the judge, jury and executioner of my life.

I am happy to report there was an anticlimactic ending to this event. I explained what happened and Leah just laughed. In the end, everything worked out alright, but my heart certainly stopped there for a second.

Here’s a little Luda to take you out while you think about Gertrude.