I mean, Albert was fine when you were a boy. You were in third grade, maybe for the second time, I'm not sure, and that idiot Marcus Dufraine teased you, saying, “Albert! Albert? more like Al-butt!” Luckily, Cindy Cute (that was her real name, wasn't it, interobang) stepped in and told Marcus that saying “Al-butt” made him sound like a five-year-old who couldn't pronounce his Rs. The teasing stopped, and you had a crush on Cindy all through grade school, middle school, high school, junior college, community college, working at the mayor’s office, when you both quit and got jobs for the accounting firm, right up until the day you both turned 28, the office celebrated your birthdays at the same time, and she announced she was engaged to a prince and moving to Europe. And to think, in all that time, Albert, through all those years, you never spoke to each other after that day with Marcus Dufraine.

Maybe you could change your name to Marcus! That would be a hoot. Take back some of that control you lost. You were in college, a girlfriend said you were too serious all the time, wanted you to relax a little, drove you both into the city where you saw a young comic make jokes. And it was working. Until the comic randomly used the name "Dufraine" in one of his jokes, and the whole thing soured for you, right there. Albert, it was inevitable, and it wasn't like you were going to stay with that girl anyway, she was much too physical for you, kind of a brute, really, broke your arm more than once, on accident, to be sure, but broken nevertheless, and that was only while sleeping! Did I say interobang once already? Well, I'm saying it again.

But if you don't want to be called Marcus, that's fine. Makes sense, really. Marcus is sort of a stupid name, come to think of it. Come to think of it, if you could go back in time, go back to right when Marcus was born, and to get revenge on him, to make his life miserable for what he said to you that day in third grade, what you would do is you could somehow convince his mother to name him Marcus. Curse him with that name. Maybe you did, Albert! Maybe, in the future, they invent time-travel, and you go back, and you curse Marcus with that horrible terrible name! It would be great if you could travel in time, from now to the future, to see if time travel's is going to be invented.

And you could see what your new name is at the same time. Because, Albert, Albert just doesn't suit you anymore. Some people call you Al. How about Allen? Some people call you Bert. How about Bart, Bartholomew? That's got a poetic ring to it. Bartholomew James Dufraine, CPA. You're not a CPA, I know, but you could be one, if that test wasn't so stupid. Because it is a stupid test, soon-to-not-be-Albert. And I'm guessing that when you change your name, that test might not be quite so stupid anymore.

You'd walk into the test-taking center, tell them your name is Bartholomew, and they’d reach down past the box of stupid CPA tests and give you one the special smarts ones. Ace it, become a CPA, get a promotion, a desk where the computer is not facing the entire office, look up Cindy LaFontaine, 17th Earless of Fontaine, nee Cute on Facebook and no one would see what you're doing. Is Earless that right word for the wife of an Earl? Yeah, she said prince, but she meant prince with a little P, which more or less means Earl.

So how about it, used-to-be-Albert? Ready for that name change? And maybe that age-change too? Bump yourself up to 40 or so, let your hair fall out, develop that paunch, look up, understand, and begin to complain about your bursitis? Seems like the time's right. What else you got going on, my man? Nothing. You're 33-ish, your name's Albert, you're an employee in good standing at Smith Kierkegaard Jones accounting, and you're not very good any anything, so you might as well change it up. Maybe you could change your name to Cindy, interobang?