Language can be a funny thing. Who decides that a dog should be called a "dog" or who assigns gender to certain names but decides others are unisex? Language has gotten me into some trouble in the past, but has also gotten me out of some tight spots.
I will be the first to admit that I take certain liberties with the English language, but don't we all? I grew up in household where making up your own words was encouraged and still is for that matter. My grandmother remains the uncontested champ. She uses terms of endearment like bouzzledbub or her little love tottle. If you were sitting in on a family meal, you might find yourself needing to console an urban translation dictionary. Unfortunately no published work would help you there. Instead you might expect Alfred Hitchcock and Rod Sterling to show up under the guise of making a new series. But is a family full of word-maker-uppers really that uncommon?
The answer is no, however, we could be called a "special case". These liberties of language are most common when a small child is added to the family. Pick a family, any family. I bet they each have a different name for a pacifier or for titles given to other family members. Gigi, Great Bet, Grammy Bea, and G'Mae all refer to the same person, my great-grandmother, but each phrase came from a different house hold.
Some of us, striving to be different, take the same liberties when naming our children. You need only to go as far as the grocery store magazine rack to find horrible examples of this. The top dogs of the entertainment industry are naming their children things like Apple, Sunday, Bow-Ty, Moon Unit and Diva Muffin. Keep in mind, that's only the tip of the tragically-named iceberg.
That being said, a couple years ago I got a black female puppy. She was the laziest puppy I had ever laid eyes on but had more personality than most humans. After she tried to serenade us with what sounded like singing, I suggested we name her Billie, after the jazz icon. Joe, my boyfriend, after a five hour marathon of Dead Wood, decided Billie was a perfect name for our little cow-girl dog. However, his inspiration was not a famous jazz singer but an equally famous "wild" cowboy.
Like most names, it morphed into nicknames and was shortened. People have a hard time understanding way I would name a girl dog Bill. Who decides it is okay to name a human boy Kelly but it is not alright to name a female dog Bill?
And then there are the infamous "lost in translation" moments that make you feel awkward, like Bill Murray taking a shower in a stall that is half his size. If any of you have ever had the pleasure of talking to someone that speaks English from a different country, I am sure you have run into this problem. A family friend's son was visiting from Australia and I was suppose to take him around Boise and show him the sights. This was a short trip considering both of us were only 17 and it was only 50 degrees out. In one of our conversations over the evening we were discussing "getting pissed". I used this phrase a lot to declare anger. He used this phrase too, but I realized too late that his definition was completely different.
He told me that he rarely got pissed, but when he did he got REALLY pissed. Thinking we were talking about anger, I decided to share that I used to have a tiny road rage problem (being only 5'1", I chalked it up to the Napoleon syndrome). And so I said, "Oh you don't get pissed? Ever?! Geez. I don't know how you do it. I get pissed in my car all the time!"
There is now an Australian running around that thinks at the age of 17, I would get in my car, drive around and get trashed. Well, that's just fabulous. It took 2 years of watching BBC America to realize my faux pas and by that time it was too late to save any face I might have still had. Let this serve as a lesson for all: name your dog whatever the hell you want (but perhaps take more care when naming another human) and beware of misrepresenting yourself as a careless, alcoholic operating heavy machinery.
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