Every time I hit the park with the kids, I come away with name envy. Nobody under the age of 10 is named Jack or Suzie anymore. At our neighborhood playground, we’re swinging with kids named Stellar and Finger. Magic and Fellow. Seriously, I know a kid named Mars. We take gymnastics with Fate and Beta. Beta! How cool is that? My wife and I took a more traditional route in the name department, although, we did name our son after the dog. That’ll be fun to explain when he’s old enough. (Does anyone know what age is the right age to tell your child they were named after a golden retriever?) Cooper’s a great name, but is it as great as Fast-track Johnny? Is Addie Shore as memorable as Skittle?
Before I had kids, I thought parents were setting their kids up for failure by choosing outlandish names. Can you imagine a woman named Pickle leading a business seminar? Or a dude named Nintendo running for Congress? And let’s face it, if you name your girl Glitter or Champagne, she’s going to be a stripper. That’s a scientific fact.
But now, I say the wilder the name the better. It’s actually a little shocking that it’s taken so long for our names to evolve into the awesomeness that we have today. (Does anyone out there have a kid named Awesome?) Why stick to tradition? Instead of naming your kid after a beloved relative, name your kid after the thing you love most. You love canned meat? Name your kid Spam. Or Vienna. Of course, if I had followed that rule, I’d have twins named TV and Budweiser…which would be awesome. Everyone loves TV and I guarantee you that a boy named Budweiser would never get picked on in school.
Really, all you’re doing when you name your kid Pabst, is taking the opportunity to tell the world just how cool you are. I get it. Sometimes, the ironic t-shirt and mustache just aren’t enough. You need to take it a step further and name your son Singlespeed. Well how about just cutting to the chase and name your kid after the sexual position used during conception. Talk about honesty in advertising. The world would know immediately what you’re into, no bumper stickers necessary. Introduce the neighbors to your daughter named Missionary, and they’ll know you’ll be voting Republican this November and probably won’t be having any late night parties. But strut your son named Wheelbarrow around the company picnic, and colleagues will envy your sense of adventure.
Probably best to keep that kid named Orgy under wraps though.