I Long For A Fake Name

April 20, 2008 at 10:27 pm 2 comments

Don’t you hate when people name themselves? If you don’t, it doesn’t matter, it’s a hypothetical question. The point is, I hate it. Like they come up with some nickname or just completely fake name for themselves and expect it to fly in the real world. It’s one thing if you’ve been called a name since childhood by friends and family, but to one day, when you’re 16, decide that your name is Nicole instead of Ashley… well, doesn’t really matter because those names are equally lame and forgettable. But let’s say you wanted to be called Brent and your real name is Wally. Ain’t happening. I recently met a man named Gregor whose real name was just Gregory, and his son was named Zane Raven. No doubt the poor child will one day change his name to something like Bill Greenblatt to compensate for years of an unbelievably, overly cool stage name

Nearly as annoying: when people have two names instead of just one and never make a clear distinction on what they prefer to be called (i.e., George Robert or Mary Kate… I love you guys but pick a damn name) and people whose last names could also be first names, like Mark David or John Steven. Or Clark Kent. Or Bruce Wayne. Or Peter Parker (kind of). Okay I guess the rule is that if you are one of those people with a first name for a last name you’re a superhero, and we’ve all caught on. Or they’re just popular aliases because no one would believe a guy named Marshall Heffenberger or Bart Finkelstein was Batman.

So as I sit here eating my Chicken Mushroom flavored Ramen, pondering people and their annoying names, of course I come to my name. Probably not especially annoying to anyone but me, but annoying nontheless. My first name, Alison, is disgustingly common. And commonly misspelled, though the way I spell it is phonetically correct (get over it double L’s, you know I’m right. Allison? What is that about?) And my last name is literally translated to “fat” in Italian, which is just great for the old self-esteem. Actually that probably wouldn’t be a problem if I just stopped telling people. I’m proud of my heritage, so sue me. (What’s the deal with airline food?! Am I right?)

My bitterness is probably the result of jealousy; I’m jealous of people with cool names and maybe even a little jealous of those wienermobiles who have either the balls or the lack of shame that allows them to name themselves things like “Tree” or replace a standard “y” in their name with an “i” dotted with a heart. (Tiffani? C’mon. You’re a whore anyway.) If I had a fake name, it would be something awesome and classy, like Donna Jane. Then I could also be called D.J., or, “Deej” as made popular by the ever-relevant show Full House. Hey whatever happened to Kimmy Gibbler? I always thought Kimberley was a pretty good name, though it inevitably is shortened to “Kim,” and if you ever go to Asia you’ve got that first name for a last name problem mentioned in paragraph two. (And this Paris Hilton quote doesn’t help: “I would not want [Kim’s butt] – it’s gross! It reminds me of cottage cheese inside a big trash bag.”) This is quickly turning into a post about sitcoms from the 90s, it’s taking all my self-control to not go into gross detail about “Blossom,” “Home Improvement,” and “Clarissa Explains It All”. That’s another post entirely.

So anyway, my dreams of having a name that is both classic and original go on unrealized, because those two adjectives are in exact opposition, and I possess enough personal consciousness to realize that people will think I’m a douchebag (for lack of a better word) for changing my name strictly for aesthetic reasons. So, sorry Beverly, Meredith, Gertrude, Courtney, and Princess Consuela Bananahammock. You’ll have to wait for my unfortunate future children.

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Entry filed under: Alison, Miscellaneous Musings. Tags: , , , .

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2 Comments Add your own

  • 1. bettytron  |  April 22, 2008 at 9:10 pm

    That is why you have to marry someone with a nice last name. That’s my plan!

    Reply
  • 2. Olivia  |  April 23, 2008 at 12:30 am

    That’s just cheating, you name-digging whore.
    I’m on to your game.

    Reply

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