What’s In a Name?

When Himself and I were doing the whole baby naming gig, we took several things into consideration.  If it was an ‘in’ name, it was out in our book.  Same thing for cutesy, avant garde or just plain weird.  I can’t see me going to a doctor named Moon Crater Tinkleturd, can you.  We wanted something that sounded youthful when they were kids and distinguished when they grew up and moved out.  My exact comment to Himself was ‘I want them to have a distinguished name that would sound good regardless of which side of the defense table they may find themselves’.  Yes, I may have been aiming a bit low, but I was aiming for realism with just a touch of pessimism thrown in for good measure.  The Co-Defendants have very nice names although, to be fair, I rarely use them.  As they’ve grown up they’ve acquired several nicknames, some of which I use in public and others which I don’t.  No, I won’t tell you what they are because these are the people who will pick my nursing home.  I haven’t gone quite as far as Bill Cosby who claims his kids thought their names were Dammit and Jesus Christ for most of their formative years, but I confess I’ve come fairly close.

I’m not sure what my parents were aiming for with my name; perhaps they were just aiming for a lot of letters…22 to be exact.  I’m just glad I didn’t turn out male (mostly because NOT stopping to ask for directions is just asinine) because they would’ve named me after grandfathers Jesse and James.  No, I’m not joking.  I will say that I don’t ever remember them calling me by anything other than my given name which suits me just fine.  My mother always did, and still does, have a conniption fit when someone calls me ‘Steph’ and would have a mini rant about the fact that there were 4 more letters to my name.  I’m not sure that it offends me as much as it apparently does her.  It’s just something I don’t prefer…right along with any other nickname you can come up with for me unless it’s Benevolent Empress of the Universe.  That I could handle.  Now, there are some people who can get away with calling me variations of my first name.  They’re mostly relatives, older friends or my spouse who, interestingly enough, calls me Steph.  But I really like these people, well, most of the relatives, and so they get a pass.  Everyone else, not so much.

Take for instance what I got called recently….Stephyupagus.  Now, I grant that I may be older than the offending utterer and a bit on the chunky monkey side, however, I do not resemble a hairy-assed dinosaur.

Photo credit: Bing

I’m sure the look on my face said it all, but not being the queen of tact and really, really, really needing a paycheck, I smiled and moved on.  I’m not one for the quick comeback but Himself granted me a reply for the next time…and you know there’ll be a next time.

‘Thank you, Twatamous’.

I can’t wait for next time.


  1. Funniest thing I’ve read in a long time! Diet Coke out the nose at the “hairy-assed dinosaur” line. Bless you heart!

    I hate it when people shorten my name, too. When they call me “Aim” I tell them I am not a verb.

    • I once had a doctor ask if he could call me ‘Steph’ to which I replied ‘Only if I can call you Scott’. He never asked again.

      Sorry about the Coke thing…hope your sinuses are cleared out now!

  2. Lol! There are some advantages to being named Mary. But I still hate it. Interesting you have no nicknames. Every Stephanie I know has one. My cousin was named that so she could be Annie. Also know a couple of Stevies. All are better than hairy as dinosaur. .. and Mary…. except Annie. I wouldn’t want that either.

    • My Grandad used to call ‘Ste-fanny’ but I loved him so that was okay. And on another subject, getting up on the roof today was a HUGE mistake.

      • Sigh. ..I won’t say what I am thinking. I am laying here whining cause my elbows, back , hips and knees hurt so much. My husband says I try to do too much.

      • Oh, go ahead mom, let me have it! Damn it, how can you possibly avoid doing something when you actually have energy? Now I just want to DIE!!

  3. Well, you won’t die. I know it is hard to believe but movement helps. So, even if it is a lap around the dining room table, try to move each day – especially on the BAD days. Also, do not let yourself slip into that “Fibro fog”. If you aren’t moving physically try to do something mentally challenging. Keep plugging along!

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