memes.

[dragonlady7]

Found a new person's livejournal and so am stealing all her memes. Behind the cut is an exceedingly amusing quiz about which historical loony I am.

EXOTIC FOREIGNER ALIAS = Favorite Spice + Last Foreign Vacation Spot

Clove Hanau

SOCIALITE ALIAS = Silliest Childhood Nickname + Town Where You First Partied

Awan St. Andrews

"FLY GIRL" ALIAS (a la J. Lo) = First Initial + First Two or Three Letters of your Last Name

B. Kel

DIVA ALIAS = Something Sweet Within Sight + Any Liquid in Kitchen

Chocolate Tea

GIRL DETECTIVE ALIAS = Favorite Baby Animal + Where You Last Went to School

Foal Rochester

BARFLY ALIAS = Last Snack Food You Ate + Your Favorite Drink

Chex Mix Fruit Juice

SOAP OPERA ALIAS = Middle Name + Street Where You First Lived

Siobhan Roe
[Dave gets to be Peter St. Lawrence. Dreamy, isn't it?]

PORN STAR ALIAS = First Pet's Name + Street You Grew Up On

Cupcake Roe
[note: I have heard this differently-- you are supposed to use your mother's maiden name for this one. Which makes me Cupcake Shaver, my father Buck Brown, and my boyfriend Ernie Gailitis. Good names. I think my mom ends up being Muffin Denison, which amused me immensely.]

ROCK STAR ALIAS = Any Liquid on the Bar + Last Name of Bad-Ass Celebrity

Beefeater Rock (as in "the", not "chris")

Which Historical Lunatic Are You?
From the fecund loins of Rum and Monkey.

You are Charles VI of France, also known as Charles the Mad or Charles the Well-Beloved!

A fine, amiable and dreamy young man, skilled in horsemanship and archery, you were also from a long line of dribbling madmen. King at 12 and quickly married to your sweetheart, Bavarian Princess Isabeau, you enjoyed many happy months together before either of you could speak anything of the other's language. However, after illness you became a tad unstable. When a raving lunatic ran up to your entourage spouting an incoherent prophecy of doom, you were unsettled enough to slaughter four of your best men when a page dropped a lance. Your hair and nails fell out. At a royal masquerade, you and your courtiers dressed as wild men, ending in tragedy when four of them accidentally caught fire and burned to death. You were saved by the timely intervention of the Duchess of Berry's underskirts.

This brought on another bout of sickness, which surgeons countered by drilling holes in your skull. The following months saw you suffer an exorcism, beg your friends to kill you, go into hyperactive fits of gaiety, run through your rooms to the point of exhaustion, hide from imaginary assassins, claim your name was Georges, deny that you were King and fail to recognise your family. You smashed furniture and wet yourself at regular intervals. Passing briefly into erratic genius, you believed yourself to be made of glass and demanded iron rods in your attire to prevent you breaking.

In 1405 you stopped bathing, shaving or changing your clothes. This went on until several men were hired to blacken their faces, hide, jump out and shout "boo!", upon which you resumed basic hygiene. Despite this, your wife continued sleeping with you until 1407, when she hired a young beauty, Odette de Champdivers, to take her place. Isabeau then consoled herself, as it were, with your brother. Her lovers followed thick and fast while you became a pawn of your court, until you had her latest beau strangled and drowned.

A severe fever was fended off with oranges and pomegranates in vast quantities, but you succumbed again in 1422 and died. Your disease was most likely hereditary. Unfortunately, you had anywhere up to eleven children, who variously went on to develop capriciousness, great cruelty, insecurity, paranoia, revulsion towards food and, in one case, a phobia of bridges.