You could always call it “George”, which is what William Herschel, who discovered it, wanted to do.
He was sucking up to his Royal Sponsor, King George III of England. Wiser heads prevailed, and it was eventually given a classical name, without regards to the sensibilities of our inner ten year olds a couple of centuries later.
If you don’t like “George”, you can call it “Hershel” instead, which is what Herschel’s contemporary scientists wanted to do.
But your inner ten year old will just convert that to “Herschell Highway,” and you’d be back where you started.
My husband couldn’t remember the exact name of a Tom Selleck TV show he likes, so he came up with “Blue Balls,” which is what both of us have called it ever since.
I’ve trained myself to pronounce “either” as “eye-thur” instead of “ee-thur”.
I pause a half-breath to make sure I pronounce “wash” as “wash” and not “warsh” as I used to.
I pronounce “furneaux” as “fur knee ox”, “fajitas” as “fa-jeeh-tas”, and “Mexia” as “meks-ee-ah”, “Alma” as “aaowl-mu”, “Doughnuts” as “dog nuts”, and “Hors d’ouvres” as “Whores d’Overs” to be silly.
I pronounce “February” as “Febuary”.
I pronounce “SteinMart” as “Stain Mart”.
I think “cat as trophy” but say catastrophe.
I’m hear “Asperger’s” pronounced “ASS-burgers” (not derogatorily, just incorrectly), but pronounce it myself as “ASS-per-gers”. I’m toying with using the English pronunciation of “ass-PER-jers”.
And then there’s the story of the European who came to America only to return when he read “Bazaar Pronounced Success”!
I tend to make fun of place names. Like Homo Depot or Fart & Sminal. I think if I called them by their proper names, my husband wouldn’t have any idea what I meant.