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Effortlessly Average

Sort of half-heartedly leading the charge into mediocrity since, oh, let's say around 1987 or so.

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Location: Roaming (additional charges may apply), Argentina

Proof that with internet access and a powerful laxative, even insipid people will blog; the place where your excellence and my mediocrity collide; where my Karma whips ass on your dogma.

Saturday, April 01, 2006

What's in a Name?

If you've read Effortlessly Average for any period of time, you know that my son comes up with some real zingers. I think this is because that part of his brain that activates his mouth works ever so slightly faster than that part which controls reviewing just how something will sound once said. Then again, he's also just a funny kid, ever so much more than I was at his age.

Every so often, however, my daughter will come up with one that's also a knee-slapper. What makes hers funny, though, isn't exactly what she says as much as how she sometimes reacts to what she just said.

See, my daughter's the thinker. She's the one who rolls ideas and thoughts around in her head for a while, looking from different perspectives and angles. She's the one who creates the most unusual drawings and colors pictures in ways my Mr. Spock mind could never imagine on its own. Sometimes, though, her brain engages her mouth as part of its overall reveiw process. And that, my friends, is comedy.

Case in point: as recent transplants to the Houston, Texas area (or "Howston" for those of you in New York City) we've spent some time over the last couple weeks exploring our newly adopted hometown. As we drive along highway 6, we often recite the names of the businesses we pass, as if to point out the places we may like to visit. Or, just to point out the places that sound unusual. A couple days ago we passed a Fudruckers. Now it may in fact have the "world's greatest hamburgers;" I've never eaten there so they may be right, although I'd have to say that to this day the best burger I've ever tasted was served by Bailiwick's in Reno, Nevada.

What Fudrucker's does have is a name that almost sounds like you're swearing, a point my son brought up today in front of the entire family. My daughter's brain swung into action, rolling the word around to determine exactly why it was so.

"Why does it seem like it should be a swear-word?"

"Well, honey, switch the obvious letters around."

She thought for a second... "Rudfuckers?" she offered.

A moment passed as half the room chuckled while the other half looked at me in expectation. Then the realization dawned on her. She gasped and threw her hands to her mouth, eyes wide, as if she expected the anvil to drop at any second.

She started stammering. "I'm sorry! I didn't mean it! Seriously, I didn't!"

"Don't worry." I said

"You're not mad? Why not"

"Cuz it's a Rudfucking weird name, that's why."

Then my mom smacked me.

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