Anorher "sad story, funny name"

I felt bad last year for giggling about the child-killer named Parris France. And now I feel bad about this poor lady, but that doesn’t stop me from giggling like a leedle girl even as I think, “oh, dear, that poor woman.”

Last Friday I was driving past a local high school and they were announcing a new faculty member on the sign outside. Now I can’t verify the information at this time, so there’s always the possibility that some crazy kids were involved. And I wholeheartedly apologize to the man in question for laughing at his name, but … the sign read:

Chuck Hiscock - Associate Principal

That man must be strong to stay in his line of work.

I once knew a woman whose parents had hoped desperately for a boy, and already had a boy’s name picked out. So when she turned out to be a girl they just altered the name a little, and called her Floydene Earlene.

I’m surprised she didn’t need therapy.

I was once a secretary for a guy named Peter Wei. It was pronounced “Way”, but when salespeople called, they’d ask for Peter “Wee” and burst into laughter and hang up. And who could blame 'em?

Poor Gay Weiner . . . To die in such horrible way, and yet how can one not laugh at her name, and wonder how she muddled through her 65 years on earth? She must have been one tough, feisty broad.

I’ll bet no one screwed with Gay Weiner.

In my past life…
We were on a medical run where we found an elderly woman on the floor of an apartment building vestibule.
She was, and remained, unconscious well after the ambulance had transported her.
I, and the police who responded could not find any identification, so, she was transported anonymous.
Since I had 3 days before I had to send in the incident report to HQ, I waited for the police to get back to me.
The following is how I remember my conversation with the police officer.

Did you ever get a name for the woman down at 23 Smith Street?
Nah…we made one up…she died anyway.
OOOkaaay…what name do you have for me?
And he says…so help me…
Ona Floor.
I kid you not.

Well, my father did take me to the fair once. That was sure a gay experience. I sure ate my share of weiners that day! [/monty burns]

If so, I’d bet that she was the first Gay Weiner in history that no one screwed with.

There are any number of women named Candice Hooker. I can only imagine what junior high school was like for them.

We had a client named Peter Shaver. That took some restraint not to laugh on the phone. We also had a client named Richard Head. I had to ask him to spell it for me since I didn’t think I heard him right.

Gay Weiner - there is no emoticon for what I’m feeling.

I knew of two brothers named…
lemonjello and orangejello…

lemonjello: le- mahn-jel-low

orangejello: ore-anje-jel-low

Yes… Lemon and orange J-ELLO

Parents can be so cruel…

We have a somewhat famous father and son duo in town here - Dick Hehr, and his son, Kent Hehr. I couldn’t make this shit up.

(“Gay Weiner.” Heh. Scene from the schoolyard - “You like Gay Weiner!”
“I do not! YOU like Gay Weiner!”)

My corporate email directory still lists my favourite three names: Rod Steele, Chuck Flood and Dick Hacking.

And we have a local politician, sadly now retired to beat a corruption scandal, named Richard Face.

I came across a last name the other day that is rather odd:

Just an odd name. I’m guessing Belgium or something by the x in there.

Urban legends told as personal anecdotes can be so pervasive.

I’m not exactly sure what you mean… :confused: :confused:

my good friend was a genetic counselor and had the family as a client- when I needed genetic counseling for my pregnancy we passed them in the waiting room and she mentioned their names…
unless she was lying…
Is it listed as a UL somewhere? If so… :confused:

I knew an Ali Hooker, once upon a time. She didn’t seem to bothered about the name.

On another note, one night when I was working at the hotel, a woman marched up to the registration desk, slammed her hand on the counter, and growled “Penis!”
I said, “Excuse me?”
She said, “My name is Penis - spelled P-H-E-A-N-U-S, and I have a reservation.”

If I were her, or related to her, I would have changed the pronunciation. But that’s just me. Perhaps she is descended from a long line of proud Pheanuses. Or maybe she just married a Dick.

I used to work in a government office in an area where we maintained a large file of the agency’s clients. One day I was looking for the file of a client whose name (really and truly) was Lil Glasscock. A co-worker was already browsing through the drawer which contained the index cards for the names starting with “Gl-”, so I asked him “Do you have a Lil Glasscock?”

Without missing a beat, he said “If I did, would I be wearing these flimsy pants?”

I’m afraid so.

Way back in grade 1, there was a kid in our school named Mark Smellie. Being the cruel kids we were, we teased him mercilessly.