You Be You, Boo! You Be You!

I glanced at a news article, this morning, that entered my timeline on either Facebook or Twitter.  Whichever the case, it was about an Aussie mother that was complaining about her daughter's teachers abbreviating her daughter's name because it was too difficult to pronounce in it's entirety.  Even written out phonetically, I had no idea how to pronounce it, myself, and I'm pretty good at doing that, if you don't mind me tooting my own horn -- toot toot!!

In the article, it also mentioned that the daughter felt embarrassed about being called the abbreviated name, according to the mother, but I surmised in the comments that the daughter was probably, more likely to be ashamed because her parents were f**king morons and couldn't give her a normal name like Mary or Sharon, but some hippy nonsensical name that can't be spelled, much less pronounced by the masses.

I shared it on my Facebook, as I do with many of the stupid shit I discover on social media.  It got me thinking about names.  My name is Jeff or Jeffrey, a name I detest.  Also a name placed upon me by my late father.  I'm not certain as to why, exactly, but my mom claims that she wanted to name me Jason, but was overruled by my dad who wanted Jeffrey.  Named after a fella he knew, I think, but I can't recall.  What I do know is, I f**king hate the name and I've never met anyone with the name Jeff or Jeffrey, who actually liked the name.

I would have much preferred being named Jason.  It's such a cool name and you can abbreviate in a couple different ways to still make it sound cool.  Jay or Jase are two cool derivatives of the name Jason that still make the named coolness.  Plus, any Jason I've ever met, seems pretty frickin' cool.  I used to work with one, in particular, who if you don't mind me ripping off a line from Ferris Bueller's Day Off:  He's a righteous dude.  Plus, you have all those cool actors, named Jason: Jason Statham, Jason Lee, Jason Voorhees.  Can't go wrong with the name Jason. Ya can't do f*ck all with Jeffrey.  There's Jeff, which sounds very much like a cat sneezing.  You watch!!  Next time your feline friend has a sneezing frenzy, you listen.  Guaranteed, you'll hear my name.  Jeff!  Jeff!   JEFF!! 

I recall the Rob Lowe movie, Youngblood.  A hockey movie that he starred in with his fellow co-star from The Outsiders, Patrick Swayze.  Cool f**kin' movie, but I was quite taken with the name Youngblood.  I often thought that the name would spice up the Jeffrey name.  Jeffrey A. Youngblood.  Alas, I never changed my name, for obvious reasons.  I never wanted to dishonour my father or my granddad or great-granddads memories.  Still a cool f*ckin' name, though.

Over the years, I've come to accept my fate.  Using Jeffrey A. Richards as my go-to professional name.   If I'd followed through with the film school, like I'd initially planned, that's the name I would have gone with, but I failed to follow that dream and instead slid into a pit of mediocrity.  Now I'm just plain Jeff Richards.  A plethora of people too god damned ignorant or stupid to spell my name correctly, so I've discarded it completely.

That little girl in Australia, whose name is impossible to pronounce, may stick with the abbreviated terminology, quite to her mother's chagrin.  Or perhaps, she'll discard it completely and call herself something completely different.  Like the popular singer from the 1970s, Engelbert Humperdinck. Born Arnold George Dorsey, the popular crooner, chose to become Engelbert Humperdinck.  What the f*ck?!?  However, as f*cked up as that is, he chose his own path, his own name and achieved much success in doing so, although I couldn't for the life of me, name any of his songs.  Point is, we needn't be tied down by the names our parents saddled us with.  Life is freedom.  Freedom to be who or what you wanna be.  Whatever makes you happy in this life. 
I like to say: You be you, boo!  You be you! 

Double Deuce

When the name or term 'Double Deuce' is Googled, a number of responses come up.  First, and foremost, is the name of the bar that Patrick Swayze handed ass-kicking's out in the movie Road House.  Another bar and grill that comes up, likely because of where I'm situated in the world, is the bar I used to frequent years 'n' years ago during my drunken stupidity era, then later on, the meeting place where friends and I would consume buffalo wings or the daily special before taking in a movie on 'cheap ass Tuesdays' at the nearby cinema.  That bar no longer exists.  Not by name anyway.  Today it goes by an Irish name that I cannot recall.

The terminology, on the other hand, defines it as something completely different.  By definition, while it sounds country and/or western, what a 'double deuce' is....  Well...  On second thought.  You be  the judge.  The definition that I read online was as follows: A 'double deuce' is the act of when one person is seated on the toilet, taking a shit and a second person sits on the first persons lap and shits through the space between the first person's legs.  Now I shouldn't jump to conclusions, but, this sounds a little gay and quite a bit more daring than I'd ever care to witness.  Let's put it this way; Super Dave Osborne was an amazing stuntman in his day, but not even Super Dave would try such a daunting feat.  Not even with Genuine Saskatchewan Seal Skin Bindings.

I was visiting my mother's house this morning, helping her change the handle on her front door.  After finishing the task, I suddenly had to rush to the washroom.  On her toilet, there's an apparatus that raises the seat up about six inches.  She's on a waiting list to have a hip replacement and attached the seating device early, so as to get the hang of it before the day of her surgery comes.  Unfortunately, for everyone who visits, they also get to practice pooping as if they'd just had a hip replacement.  Thus was my experience.  After conducting my business, I returned to the kitchen where we'd been chatting.  I marveled in two things when  I sat down.  One was remembering a blog that I wanted to write involving the Zombie Apocalypse.  The second was being reminded of the illustrious 'Double Deuce'.  I quickly explained to my mother, who was not privy to the term, and regaled with the response that it gave her.  Normally, her brand of humour shies away from the vulgar, but she laughed loudly at the premise.  I don't know if she'll share the new found knowledge with anyone or if she'll be able to properly retell the story, but those fleeting moments of my mom laughing and shaking uncontrollably, were all too precious for me.

"Double Deuce" sounds like a country 'n' western term and taking a shit between your buddy's legs is pretty gay.., so maybe what I've said for years and years about country music turning people gay, may be true, after all.  I've always stated that it (country music) makes women think about men in tight-fittin' jeans and that it makes men think about men in tight-fittin' jeans.  I actually concocted a joke from that premise once, but nobody understood it.  After a few confused looks and head scratches, I aborted the premise, citing "It's not funny if I have to explain it to you..."

 Guess it was too intellectual for them, or something.