In a previous article, I
introduced three members of my family: Brianna, Brianna's mother and
Brianna's still-baking sibling.
After learning that my aunt intended to name a female infant "Taylor
Jade," I gave my opinion of the name.
"What a wonderful name, I exclaimed, for a future professional
cocksucker! If you want your daughter to augment her breasts and slurp
semen in lieu of water, stick with that name."
A look of horror washed across my aunt's face, and she left. To her
credit, she didn't stick with that name. To my amusement, she went with
one even worse.
It's a girl!
Huh? Wha? It's 2 a.m. What's a girl?
I had a girl! Isn't that great?
Who the fuck is this?
It's your aunt, and I had a girl!
Huh? Oh, Taylor Jade made her arrival?
We decided on a new name.
Well, bully for you.
We settled on "Riley"!
Oh, God, Riley is so trashy. Why don’t you just hand her over to the
porn industry to raise? Because when I think of Riley, especially with
your last name, I think, "How much does she charge?"
That’s awful. That’s a really rotten thing to say. Besides, we’re
spelling it R-Y-L-E-E. That makes it classier.
Oh, sure, if the class you’re trying to rise above thinks a double-wide
trailer is luxurious. Don’t you know there’s a direct correlation between
extraneous "y"’s in a kid’s name and the number of laws they’ll violate?
And what’s with the "-ee"? How cutesy is that?
You can be really rotten sometimes.
I know, it’s a gift. I’m just trying to save the kid some pain. There’s
a cardinal rule in naming kids, and it is "Thou shall not mix
ethnicities." Rylee sounds Irish. Your surname is LeManne. Rylee LeManne.
It’s like me being Rosita Connelly. It’s not allowed.
But I’m all about the nicknames. You know that. I named Brianna
"Brianna" because I like "Bri" for a nickname. I picked "Rylee" because
"Ry" is so damn cute.
Jesus Christ. Bri and Ry? Like cheese and bread? You’re naming your
kids after cheese and bread?
Well, I never thought of it like that.
You should have. It’s perfect for an incestuous lesbian stage show,
though. "The Incestuous Lesbian Duo, Bread and Cheese LeManne." What’s the
tagline going to be? "Hey, Bri, come over here and spread some on me?"
That's the last time I try to help a family member.
But my aunt isn't alone in doling out cutesy or "unique" names to her
living accessories. It's a nationwide trend.
With society churning out Columbine Borg at a rapid pace, naming a
child is one of the few remaining acceptable outlets for individuality. We
want our kids to conform because conformity is the glue that holds society
together. But giving them a name that no one ever thought to bestow upon a
child -- Dysmenorrhea, for example -- allows parents to demonstrate some
level of non-conformity.
Of course, buying a child a chemistry set and encouraging the
exploration of the wonderful world of chemicals is far less embarrassing
than saddling a child with the name "Cannon."
Along with creative names come creative spellings. Maybe the parents
weren't clever enough to invent a name. Maybe they liked the sound of a
traditional name, but they still wanted their child to have a leg up on
the Lakens and Teagans.
But does spelling matter when the teacher calls on Julie, Jullee,
Jewlee, Julliee and Julye?
"Rylee" is but one example of misspelled monikers. Traditional names
Mayghan? Is it pronounced like "Megan"? Or May-ghan? May-gun? My-gun?
How can anyone tell in a country brimming with Brinleys, Hollyns and
Kestins? Where Matthew becomes "Matthue," a too-trendy Carson becomes
"Karsyn" and an overdone Taylor transforms into "Teighlor"?
Then there are the parents who completely lack creativity. They give
rise to the Trumans, Willows, Xanders, Dawsons and Dharmas. They're
television or movie addicts, and a name that fits a fictional character
will surely fit their snookums.
And the stranger the name or spelling, the more apt the parents are to
During finals, I escaped to the local public library to study.
Libraries are quiet, or so I've heard.
Fifteen minutes into studying, a book fell on the floor. Again and
again, a book fell on the floor. I got up to see who the klutz was, and it
was none other than an adorable female toddler.
She purposely threw the book on the floor. Again and again. After five
minutes of that, and perhaps noticing annoyance on the faces of other
people, the mother half-heartedly attempted to discipline her angel.
"Kinsey, stop it. Stop it, Kinsey. Please, Mommy is trying to read,
What the fuck? Kinsey? Like the Kinsey Institute? Either Mommy is
incredibly kinky or stupid.
My vote was on the latter because for 20 minutes, Kinsey entertained
the library with her antics.
I doubt a Jennifer would do that, but I bet a Jenypher would.
© The Misanthropic Bitch, 1999
Providing jack-off material for white misogynists since 1997.
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