Until recently I had an uncle named “Sydney” (not his real name). He was thoroughly despised by everyone who knew him.
Shortly after Sydney’s death, I was visiting some of my cousins, including Sydney’s daughter, who was still fairly shaken by her loss. We were talking about our pets, and I mentioned that my two cats are named Paris and Vienna, two of my favorite places. Someone asked me what my next cat will be named . . . and without thinking, I answered, “You can be damn sure it won’t be Sydney.”
:eek: You could hear a pin drop.