The Delicate Art of Naming Your Yacht

Congratulations– you bought a yacht! Welcome to the How The Heck Can I Spend My Millions of Dollars? club!

As the proud owner of a new yacht, you’re probably making some tough decisions, such as:

• Where will I moor this gorgeous babe?
• What prestigious races will I compete in?
• Should I learn how to sail or just hire a reputable yacht crew to handle all of the pesky sea-faring details?
• Will I wear pink polo shirts and white tennis shorts on deck, or will I go for the gold suit and ultramarine dress shirt combo as a tribute to the fabulous Simon LeBon?

Image from www.dailymail.co.uk

Hold on there, fella!

Before anything else can happen, you’ve got to name your yacht. Yes! She needs a name! You’ve got to register her! Sure, it was easy to spend the $750K+ to get your yacht in the first place, but that doesn’t mean it will be “smooth sailing” choosing a name. (Get it- sailing? Yacht? Little bit of filthy rich humor for you there.) Anyway. To guide you down the path of choosing the perfect name for your perfect, perfectly expensive yacht, the club has compiled a list of existing yacht names and grouped them into several categories on your behalf. Remember, all of the names listed below have already been registered* to other yacht owners, so if there’s one that really jumps out at you, try adding a “II” to the end and go from there…

Yacht-Naming Tactic #1: Go for something pretty!

Everyone loves a boat with an ethereal or nature-y sounding name. Naming your boat after a river or a woodland creature lets people know that you’re more than just a sack of dusty money– you care about the environment, too!

Some examples:

• Prairie Dancer
• Dragonfly
• Cheetah
• WindChild
• Fragile Habitat

Yacht-Naming Tactic #2: Name it after your mother, girlfriend, or wife

What woman wouldn’t be flattered to have an expensive, sleek, and sophisticated yacht bear her name? (NB- People who marry just for love: you only wish a yacht could be named after you.)

Some examples:

• Marjorie
• Red Sheilla
• Annie

Yacht-Naming Tactic #3: Sound tough!

You’re not just a pretty boy with perfect teeth and pleated pants, are you? No– you’re strong! You’re manly! Well… even if you’re whisper thin and cry during so-called ‘chick flicks’, you can still create a facade of masculinity by naming your yacht something bold.

Some examples:

• Warrior
• Icon
• Braveheart
• Freedom X
• Bulletproof

Yacht-Naming Tactic #4: Play on words!

People will love you for your intelligence, wit, and clever use of the English language. Naming your yacht something snappy proves that you’re more than just an 8- or 9-figure Swiss bank account… you’re a Harvard educated 8- or 9-figure Swiss bank account.

Some examples:

• ReignMaker
• Airloom
• SeaDuced

Yacht-Naming Tactic #5: Be honest

OK, so maybe forking over 2 million dollars for your 50′ yacht wasn’t exactly easy. Let people know this by forever naming your boat after your money woes!

Some examples:

• X-S
• Overdraft

Yacht-Naming Tactic #6: Leave some breathing room

Some names have double meanings or leave room for interpretation. Think of what would happen if you named your yacht after your girlfriend and later broke up with her. Awkward! To avoid potentially uncomfortable situations like this, it’s wise to name your yacht something more, um, open-ended.

Some examples:

• Family Affair (could mean that you sail with your sons… or that you’re leaving the door open to cheat on your wife)
• New Beginnings I (it’s easy to tack on extra “I”s in the event that your relationship(s) don’t work out)

Yacht-Naming Tactic #7: Confuse people!

Who says that filthy rich yacht owners don’t know how to have fun? Why not christen your boat with a name that will have everyone scratching their heads and thinking WTF??

Some examples:

• Free Bowl of Soup
• Muffin
• Baaad Kitty!
• Penetration

Yacht-Naming Tactic #8: Add some sass to your class

If all else fails, why not name your yacht something sassy? If you like cats, too, why not display your affection for them by including a feline reference in your yacht’s name as well?

Some examples:

• Cat Sass     (Note: can also fall under the Play on Words and WTF?? categories, especially if your yacht happens to be a catamaran.)

Hopefully this handy reference guide has helped you think of potential names for your new yacht. Remember, all of these yacht names are already taken, but there’s nothing stopping you from registering Doe-Sea-Doe or Stinky Cat Sass. Good luck!

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*Yacht names compiled from the actual 2012 Swiftsure International Yacht Race list of registrants. (The Swiftsure Race takes place in Victoria every US Memorial Day weekend.) Disclaimers: No offense intended. Stereotypes of yacht owners were unfairly exaggerated for the purpose of this post. Don’t worry, Swiftsure racers– we know you’re not all preppy pretty boys with rich daddies and a penchant for Dockers. Besides, you know I’m just jealous.

If you want to read more tongue-in-cheek mini-essays about yachts, why not re-visit last year’s Swiftsure post, where I chronicled Marty’s re-enactment of the classic Duran Duran Rio music video? Do eet!

PS: All of the photos in this post (with the exception of Mr. LeBon aboard the amazing Rio) were taken by Marty during last year’s Swiftsure International Yacht Race. Please don’t use them without permission and/or proper credit!

  

Sunday Signage: The Suspense Is Killing Me

I see this sign every day in the public restrooms at the Harbour:

Come on, people– are those ellipses really necessary? (Especially so many of them?)

The suspense is killing me!

Where can I possibly find some feminine hygiene products?

Oh.

That was a bit anti-climactic, no?

PS: Do you know how difficult it is to take a half-decent photo inside a public restroom without looking like a total creep? Believe me. It’s not easy.

Bleary Eyed and Cushy Tailed

Well, dear readers, I’m a month and a half into my summer selling season, and what have I got to show for it? Bags under my eyes, a return to my daily ponytail habit, and an alarming degree of tightening in the pants that fit me fine in March. Heh. On the plus side (not to be confused with the plus size… yet), business is faring well so far and I haven’t inadvertently made any mortal enemies out of my fellow causeway workers. <– Again… yet.

I jest. (Not about the business part, but about the bitter rivalry part. Fingers crossed that I can emerge from this season unscathed by any drama!)

Anyone want to take a stab at Victoria’ primary industry?

Towards the beginning of April, when Harbour Season had just started up again, I posted a shining list of so-called “practical” goals for the summer. Hahahaha! Apparently my youthful naivete is a filthy habit I just can’t kick, because what I deemed “realistic” at the beginning of April seems laughably implausible now. Days off? Bwahaha! A cap on weight gain? I kill me! Let’s revisit my goals through wiser, albeit sorta bloodshot eyes, shall we?

1. Maintain a 3-day-per-week exercise regimen, at least until the end of June 

Actually, I haven’t been doing so bad with this one. I renewed my membership at the Y when we moved back into town (so long, cheesy 80s gym at the lake!), and I’ve been hitting up the elliptical machine pretty steadily. I made the mistake of attending a few weight lifting classes early on, but when I rode my bike to work right after and realized that I couldn’t even apply my own brakes because my arms hurt so badly, I decided to focus more on solo workouts for the time being. I’m pretty sure all my classmates were impressed by my uber-fit ability to do a shoulder fly with measly 3-lb weights (right), but the full-body corset I felt like I was wearing after the class was totally not worth it.

Water taxis! At least our workplace is festive and charming!

2. Put a 3-lb cap on weight gain!

Sigh. Can we just skip this goal and move onto the next one? My weight must be solely determined by good sleeps and tons of herbal tea, because now that I am lacking both, I have already hit my cap. Yes! In six weeks! I realize that my weight is just a number and that it shouldn’t define me as an overall human being, but when I saw that particular number smiling up at me from the scale (most likely chirping “na-na-na-boo-boo” in a sickening, sing-song voice– jerk!), I went apoplectic! (<– FYI: “Apoplectic” just happens to be my favourite overused word in the NHL coverage on TSN. That, and “conniption fit”. Both terms were very applicable on the fateful morning when I dared step on my bathroom scale. That son of a gun!!)

3. Take one day off every week

Hahaha, I’m so funny! What means “days off”? Yes, I have taken most Tuesdays and Wednesdays away from the Harbour since April, but I’ve used those days to unpack our boxes, clean up crap, and run not-fun errands. Not technically a “day off”, agreed? The original plan was to cook up a storm at least once a week, but I’ve barely been able to make us more than toast. (Full disclosure: it rained buckets yesterday, which meant we had a day off of work. I made us a stellar Carrot & Ginger Soup.) Luckily, there’s a vegan restaurant not too far from the Harbour that sells amazing (and cheap!) soups and salads. I discovered that they also offer live/raw sauerkraut, and for reasons unbeknownst to me, I have been buying it by the pound and shoveling it back on a daily basis. It must be like sandwiches and salads: they always taste better when somebody else makes them. I can’t get enough of the stuff! Healthy intestinal flora for the win!

Photo of chard from when I actually had chard in the fridge… not in the past month and a half, sorry.

4. Dress snappier. 

The plan was to wear more skirts and/or not-jeans outfits to work, but then Marty and I discovered that we had packed all of my “nice” clothes into storage in such a way that they can never be retrieved again. Seriously. I put everything nice into a box, which we placed into a cupboard, which we then proceeded to block with a bookshelf full of photo albums. The bookshelf, in turn, is blocked by a substantial dresser– a virtual Tetris of household belongings. The only way I can access my box of skirts and somewhat feminine attire is to take everything out of the dresser, move the blasted dresser out of storage, take everything off the bookshelf, somehow haul the gigantic bookshelf out of our storage unit, open the cupboard, fetch the box, and rescue everything delicate I own. Or I could buy all new skirts. Or I could just wear jeans to work. Guess which option I chose?

One of the skirts which is currently being held for ransom in our storage locker. Haven’t seen this baby (or the matching tights… or the jacket) since our trip to Seattle last October.

5. Kinda sorta keep abreast of other people’s blog entries 

I’m doing okay in this regard. Yes, I am falling behind and yes, there is still some catching up to do, but quite a few of my go-to blogs have decided to tone down their posting schedules this season, which has helped me tremendously. It’s so much easier to follow everyone I want to follow when they’re not all pumping out wordy, deep, or otherwise complex posts on a daily basis. Thank you, brevity! Bless you, not having to use my brain!

You know me: I don’t like to miss out. I will be sifting through handfuls of posts whenever I can sneak in a few minutes. If I’ve been absent from your comments sections for a while, please forgive me but know that I am plugging through the backlog in my inbox. I’ll get there, I promise!

That’s me in a nutshell, readers– same girl, but with less sleep and more weight!

How about you? Shall we commiserate about things? Share a laugh?

Sunday Signage: Lost!

Borrowing the idea from Robin at Life in the Bogs, I’m planning a series of short ‘n’ sweet posts about signs. Random, amusing, thought-provoking signs… and did I mention short posts? What’s not to love?

Without further adieu, here is the first installment:

We saw this sign posted on a hike across the Kinsol Trestle on Vancouver Island. I hope this person eventually found their keys and GPS, but something tells me that virginity is a more difficult entity to recover… (On a related note: thank goodness I’m not the only person clumsy/forgetful enough to lose my virginity! Not that it happened like that.)