Why would you think that?!

The BBQ Pit
21

(A further hijack. I promise I’ll be good again in the morning.)

Well…he didn’t want me to mention anything to you, but since you bring it up I think it’s only fair…

No, it’s just that I hate having parts of my life intersect with other parts of my life. (Come to think of it, this may be a purely personal quirk. I can’t stand to have one type of food touch another type of food on my plate, either - I always eat the white rice separately from the marsala tofu, just as one example.) When I was in high school and even college, I didn’t bring friends home to meet my family, and I didn’t date people who went to my school, and I didn’t hang out with people I slept with. And it always drives me nuts when people I know in one context (doctor, teacher, online friend) suddenly appear in another (supermarket, restaurant, real life). And, and, and…

It occurs to me that it’s probably just me who feels like this.

Now I feel weird and strange and slightly crazy (which can’t be true - I mean, I have papers saying I’m sane and everything!), and I’m going to slink off to nurse my neuroses.

::exit deepbluesea, looking shifty and glancing over her shoulder a lot::

(Hijack ends. Really, I mean it this time. And in case my tone didn’t come through correctly: :))

22

http://www.snopes2.com/spoons/fracture/names.htm

It’s at the bottom of the article.

Not that I doubt you or anything. Just in the interest of education. Maybe you could shoot them an email to tell them it happened to your father. First time I saw this anecdote it was in a joke book published in the fifties or so, and the name was Ronly Bonly.

23

Well, I just called my dad, he was quite sure it really happened to him. Which is not so unbelievable, really. Not like the government ** isn’t ** that stupid, and my father’s name really is R.N. Hell, wouldn’t surprise me if it happened more than once.

stoid

PS: I am going to contact Snopes.

24

stuffinb, isn’t that a silent ‘ph’ on the end of your name?

::d & r::

25

(Hey, stuffinb - how’s it going?)

This post made me recall a story from awhile back that happened between my dad and co-worker at AT&T. Actually, now that I think about, there’s two good stories…

Story 1: My dad’s bud and co-worker, Ed Jestead, is out on the road for AT&T (this is in the 70s when AT&T was the phone company). Anyway, Ed is trying to call in from his hotel to talk to my dad and check on any messages, etc. As was the norm, he called the office collect. Back then, boys and girls, a real operator came on line and asked what type of call you were making, the conversation went like this:

Operator: Hello, operator, how can I help you?
Ed: I’d like to place a collect call to 555-555-5555
O: Okay, and who can I say is calling?
E: Ed
O: Umm, Ed who?
E: Jestead (pronounced “Just-ed”)
O: Umm, okay.
RRRIIINNGG
Dad: Hello?
O: Hi, this is AT&T calling, I have a collect call from Ed, will you accept the charges?
D: Ed who?
O: I dunno, he wouldn’t tell me.
D: Well, tell him I can’t accept the charges without knowing who he is.
[Silence on dad’s end]
O: Um sir, he says he’s “Just Ed.” I really tried to get his last name.
D: [Cracking Up] Yes, okay, put him through…

Story 2: Dad was in management at AT&T, and the operators went on strike. This means that management had to fill in. Dad was sent to man the phones in Oklahoma (I believe, it was somewhere in the South, he’s lived north of the M-D line all his life).

RRRIINNGG
Dad: AT&T can help you?
Man: Yay, I need to may a cah to sow banana?
D: I’m sorry sir, I didn’t hear you.
M: I wanna cah sow banana?
D: Um, sir, I don’t have a listing for sow banana.
M: Sow! Sow!
D: (now getting part of it) Oh, okay, South Banana?
M: Yeah, Sow banana!
D: Sorry, sir still nothing. Do you know what state it’s in?
M: It’s in Diana. Sow banana.
D: Diana?
M: Yay, in Diana?
D: (Now looking at his scratch pad and seeing “In Diana” = Indiana) oh, okay, Indiana? What town?
M: Sow ben!
D: OK, now connecting you to South Bend, Indiana

26

Had an e-mail exchange with the Snopes guy, and he directed me to their FAQ, in which (sorry Jack Batty) it is explained that “Urban legend” does NOT equal untrue.

stoid

27

I have a similar problem but it’s not as bad as the OP. Sometimes people “see” ie or y at the end of my name. So it’s lead to interesting conversations. Back in High School, I’d go to pick up my class schedule. “We can’t find yours but is Stephanie your sister?”

28

A buddy of mine, when he was younger (MUCH younger) used to want to go by the name of Guybrush Threepwood. (He was a HUGE Monkey Island fan.)

It was so bad that he would acutally sign things with that name.

Low and behold he got a letter in the mail from the bank his mum worked for with a notice saying he had been pre-approved for a credit card…

Well…“Guybrush Threepwood” had been approved. :smiley:

29

That’s impossible. Everyone knows only girls have cooties.

:smiley:

30

This is the version I heard from my old man about the name on his first U.S. Navy paycheck. He always went by his initials R.B., since he disliked Richard Burns. You can figger out why, I’m sure. I’ve no idea if he was being truthful, or simply pulling my leg. I suspect the latter; he’s a bit of a japer.

31

I’ve had my own share of name problems throughout my life. For some reason, my parents, being kinda unusual, decided to give me a unique name.

My name? Alekzandr. Yes, that’s exactly how it’s spelled. But I usually go by Alek. With a K. Pronounced just like Alec. You’d think people wouldn’t have too much of a problem with this. But oh my, they do.

I constantly get called Alex. By friends, cow-orkers, even relatives. It’s very very frustrating, because you’d think if a person mattered enough to someone, they’d take the time to learn their name to get it right.

In grade school, around Valentine’s Day one year, when the entire class had to give valentines to everyone else in the class, I got one addressed to “Alekcx.” I guess they figured if they put all three letters, surely one of them had to be correct.

I love my parents, but sometimes I get very frustrated with them for giving me such an unusual name.

32

Isn’t that an old Roy Orbison song?

Ronly the nonly
(dum dum dum dum dee doo wah)