At least to screw around with YOU they not ONLY have to be a jerk, but know something about history…
My first name is pronounced the same as that of one half of a formerly very popular Dutch comic strip duo, so I also get the “Hey, where’s <other guy>?”. It got old pretty quickly, but it doesn’t happen as often nowadays.
Actually, in the comic, the boy with my name is white, the other boy black (Dutch Dopers will now have figured out my first name). I once actually met a black guy with the other name, and secretly hoped we’d become friends so I could actually answer the question. We never became friends.
Superstar!!!
Mulva?
Gipple?
My first name is James. I go by my initials, and have done so since I was very small, so people only really call me James in a work or business context.
It’s fine, I’ll answer to it.
But to fill in the other half of Master Wang-Ka’s story … I hate being called ‘Jim’, and there’s this certain sort of person who sees ‘James’ and reads it ‘Jim’ instantly. And it pisses me off. And like Master Wang-Ka’s asshole detection method, it tells me something about the person - that they’re a glad-handing phony trying to project a false sense of familiarity.
Imagine that your name is Dick.
Now, STFU!
I went to high school with a girl named Kathy. Not Kathleen. Not Katherine or Kathryn. Kathy. That’s what is on her birth certificate. But it didn’t stop teachers from demanding she use her “proper” name.
My given name is Cynthia. As a child I was called “Cindy”. I have blonde hair and blue eyes. It was the early 70s and the Brady Bunch was a hit, after which it went into immediate syndication.
So you can imagine what I heard for years… CINDY BRADY!
I hated that little kid. I refused to wear pigtails. I also stopped answering to Cindy by 7th grade.
And now I know why GrumpyBunny is grumpy. This is exactly the sort of thing I was talking about. Not to pry or be disrespectful, but I am morbidly curious: did you ever have to put up with anyone singing the theme song at you? Feel free not to answer or tell me to go to hell; I’d rather that than be part of the problem.
A thing I have learned while teaching: some teachers apparently went into the profession to nurture their inner Hitler. One would think that the profession would call only those seeking to educate and encourage; apparently, it also attracts a fair number who feel the urge to whip the little monsters into compliance, whether they have it coming or not.
No shit. My sister had a foot condition which prevented her from going home for lunch in grade school like most everybody else. I found out years later that those kids who ate their lunch at school weren’t allowed to talk. What the need was for such a policy I never found out. Regular elementary school, not a religious school.
Not the entire theme song, but “the youngest one in curls” came up a lot…because yeah. I had wavy hair.
:smack:
I feel the same way about people who shorten my name to “Cindy” immediately upon introduction. Glad-handing twits.
My name is Janet. I was in school when The Rocky Horror Picture Show became a fad. Suddenlly everyone was walking up to me in the hall and saying, “Damn it, Janet! I love you.” I was not the kind of kid who went to The Rocky Horror Picture Show, so I was completely bewildered until someone kindly pulled me aside and explained.
My first name is Jean, and when I was a kid, my family sometimes called me Jeannie. This was when “I Dream of Jeannie” was still on the air, so I got that a lot. Also the Stephen Foster song from older folks. Later I had people start off with “Hi, Jean,” and then go, “Hygiene, get it?”
And then there was the guy at work who used to call me Jean Jean the Dancing Machine. He meant well, I guess.
My birth name is Mona.
No, my middle name is not goddamn Lisa.
Yes, I have heard the Nat King Cole song, as everyone over 30 felt the need to sing it at me when we were introduced when I was a child.
No, I wasn’t named after the song.*
No, my middle name is still not goddamn Lisa.
No, not Monica, Mona.
No, it’s not short for Ramona.
Yes, I’ve read the Ramona Quimby books, they’re very good, but her name is not my name.
Did I mention my middle name is not motherfucking goddamn Lisa?
Small wonder I changed it to “Maggie” as soon as I could.
*I was, however, named after the Rolling Stones cover of Bo Diddley’s “Hey, Mona”. Which is, IMO, far cooler.
My name is Jill. People assume it’s short for Jillian, which it’s not. Mom named me Jill so I wouldn’t have any nicknames. Then she herself called me Jill The Pill the whole time I was growing up. :rolleyes:
My maiden name is the same as the last name of a pop star.
Are we related? No.
This used to come up a lot when I was substitute teaching.
Growing up with the last name “Brown,” I got called “Brownie” a lot. Never cared for it.
Being in grade school in California during Ronald Reagan’s first gubernatorial campaign, I had just about as much of “If it’s Brown, flush it” as anyone should have to put up with. Well, a little more, to be honest.
I went to junior high and high school with a brother and sister whose parents had named them Elizabeth and Zachary Taylor. Most kids had no idea who the historical Zachary Taylor was, but on the first day of school every year, when roll was called, the poor girl had to endure the entire class turning around to stare at her. Seven periods, seven cringing moments. She wasn’t very attractive and was flat-chested, so she also had to endure boys’ comments about “Boy, you sure don’t look like Elizabeth Taylor!”
There was also a set of redheaded and freckled twins named Jack and Jill. Oh, hardeharharhar, the merriment at their expense. The resulting introversion was also amusing for them, I’m sure.
What the fuck is wrong with parents?
Speaking of what were parents thinking, I had a friend in college named Theodore Baer. The last name was pronounced “bear”.
My own name is Jon – not John. I almost never bother to correct the spelling anymore, but apparently I came home crying from the first day of nursery school because the teacher insisted I’d misspelled my name and would not believe I was right.