What the Funch? (Lameness, past and present)

Funch, by the way, is a substitute curse word I found on this website:

Utah Baby Namer

Which was brought to my attention by my Texas bff, who found a link from Dooce, the most entertaining blogger in the world.

This website in motherfunching hilarious. Be sure to click on the "Polygamy Pin" link.

I've since been renaming all of my friends Mormonames on g-chat. I now hold frequent conversations with Bridger A-10 Grandfield, Merzaydee Williams, Jnard Stimatze, and Abcde Mack. I'm particularly proud of the names selected for myself: Jennyfivetina, and Jessit, both of which are exceedingly appropriate, I think.

I don't know where this penchant for renaming things temporarily in a social'tard manner comes from, but I've been doing it my whole (adult!) life. Two particular other instances stand out: at one point, for a reason I cannot remember, we all named ourselves after beans. I was Pork'n, if I recall. I had friends Navy, Pinto, and Lima. We never once used these names, but I distinctly remember this happening.

The other time, I remember, was for a very specific purpose: a friend was having a competition with some myspace ninny to see how many people they could each give to re-title their myspace moniker with a name involving bread or bread products. The group was called the "loaf legion". I was Wry Bread (CLEVER!!!), with friends Flat Bread (guess her general cup size :), Loafthansa, Stale Crusty Loaf, Pita Bread, Banana Bread, and the most clever name: I Like Bread. I know there were more, and more clever, names, but this was so many years ago I can't recall. I know he won, and interninny never showed her face on his profile again.

What does this say about me, this naming of things and friends in clever-yet-socially-restricted ways? Prolly that I wasn't popular in high school. (So true!). It also says my pets will always have ridiculous names, though they may be repeated once I get old. It says that if I'm willing to blog about it, I must STILL be a little bit of a social retard on the inside, while floundering in my small-town sense of style on the outside.