David was down from Chicago for a weekend of bon-vivantism. As we sat in my living room admiring a handsome piece of art by Greg Brown I recently acquired at Utrillo"s, I asked David, "So, how are things going with Tori?" "Oh, I don"t think that"s going anywhere. And by the way, it"s not Tori, it"s Toriii." "Not Tori, but Toriii." "Yes, Toriii." "Not Tori spelled T-o-r-i, but Toriii spelled T-o-r-i-i-i." "Yes, that is, unfortunately, correct." "Oh, David, I think we have hit an all-time low with the self-conscious artsy names here." "Yes, I think you"re right." Suddenly Rachel popped up from behind the couch. "Aha!" she exclaimed. "Caught in the act! David, as J."s best friend, my recent edict regarding women with decadent, self-conscious names applies to you too. You freak! How could you date a woman named Toriii?" "Wait a minute! Who let you in my house?" I asked Rachel. "Rocky, of course," she replied. That fiend, I thought to myself. "Well, I wasn"t aware that the name was spelled Toriii, but once I was, I definitely saw things in a different light. I apologize from the depths of my Hoosier-born soul," David said, rather unconvincingly. "And how about you, Mr. bargain basement Casanova?" Rachel asked me. "Are you dating women with goofy names?" "No, I"m not. I have removed myself from the romantic sphere and am concentrated on intellectual issues only at this time," I said. "I think to snare J. a woman would have to act with cunning and quickness," David said. "Or sheer desperation," Rachel quipped.