Wednesday, November 17, 2010

The Name Game

On the radio, I always hear about celebrities naming their progeny after different types of fruit, or giving them six names, usually with a 'Hope' or 'Sparrow' chucked in the middle. Why? Do they love their own flesh and blood so much that they willingly condemn them to many a school pummelling?

My old man is the campest-suspect-closeted bloke around. He has great style, sense in fashion, furniture anything, but never rely on him to fix a broken shelf (once part of my Ikea bed broke and I slept on the couch for a whole week until my uncle fixed it). So how did this fruit loop come up with utter crap names for my brother and I?

Dad always wanted girls. He wanted his firstborn aka me to be called…

wait for it….







Phyllis.

Could you imagine the playground taunts? Never ever name your child something that rhymes with an STI. ' Phyllis has syphilis doo da doo da' Thank god my drugged up mother had enough sense to name me the most popular and bland name of the year.

If you thought Sheryl was bad, my father was able to boganise it even more. Unlike those sad, sad people hyphenating their children's names, he decided to go one up on them and ditch the hyphen altogether. Hence, the monstrous portmanteau 'Sherilyn' was chosen for the second child. Luckily, Sherilyn escaped this moniker by being born a boy. Fittingly, my brother is named after the devil.

If your name is Sheryl, Sherilyn or Phyllis, I apologise profusely. I am sure you are well adjusted people with many friends. However chances are, you aren't reading this anyway. 

No comments:

Post a Comment