The Beavers conundrum
Surely this was a name made up by a perv male grad student to take advantage of another Netflix promo code. It seems like too much of a proclamation of sexual prowess created to raise the eyebrows of mailmen or make frat brothers snicker.
Robyn Beavers. That can’t be a real name.
When the two Netflix envelopes in my mailbox greeted me from their bed of junk mail, I flashed back to that night in Vegas. I knew my laptop was on the nightstand when my eyelids creaked open the next morning, but the specifics of the night’s activities were cloudy. Last thing I remember was pointing my new H2 Zoom audio recorder at an obviously inebriated, chatty cathy doing a sobriety test on the side of ”The Strip” to test my gain settings and microphone pickup pattern. Had I been lame and ordered a Netflix account? Nah. The Manhattans weren’t that strong. Plus, a bunch of my friends have shared their Netflix password with me. Why would I pay for something I can get for free?
I excitedly considered how much trouble I would get into if I satisfied my curiosity and ripped open the envelopes like it was Christmas morning. Just to see if I had lucked out and gotten an interesting flick I’d never heard of. Thieving other people’s mail is a crime, sure. But what’s the rate of enforcement on post pilferers around here? From reading the SUPDS Community Crime alerts, I should be more worried about 125 lb Asian males with designer glasses who like knives.
No one would ever know if I had opened up the envelopes, watched the DVDs, then slipped ‘em back into the return envelope. I doubt The Beav would come knocking on my door demanding to know where her discs were. Then again, when I looked at the title of the movies through the bar code slot of the envelope, I thought maybe she might.
Galactica. Season 1: Discs 1 and 2
So not worth it.
Naturally, I facebooked the name to see if she was for real. Turns out she is. Poor thing.
Am I really the only person who would have a pre-birth brainstorm session to think about all the ways that the name I chose for my baby could be distorted during its adolescence? Seems like common sense to think about how a first name sounds with a last name. E.g. If the kid’s last name will be McCrevice, you should have the forethought not to name your child Phillip.
Now that I’m thinking of it, if I do reproduce somewhere down the line, this is definitely going to be an event for only my most inappropriate friends. I’ll need all the input I can from the types that enjoy a waltz on the douche side. I can see the event invitation now.
You’re cordially invited to “Shame That Name.” Bring your own puns. Thesaurus optional. Best two out of three gets godparent status and a guilt trip if the kid doesn’t go to college. <insert obscene event description here>
I don’t want to have to convince my sobbing tween to come out of the bathroom they’ve locked themselves into, ‘cos Freddy “I’m peaking in high school” Football Hero bragged about how he burgled the beaver last night all over his friends’ walls.
If Facebook hasn’t gone the way of the Myspace by then.
