You Must Be Joking

The other night my husband and I started talking about having another baby. We have been trying to get pregnant for a few months now, but that night we actually talked about the logistics, names, and the possibility of having a child born in Europe. During our discussion, I realized I’d be fine without my hometown Obstetrician, but I’m not sure I can continue to live with a man who suggests these names for an infant:

-Barnaby
-Dirk
-George
-Kirk
-Jeff (just Jeff, not Jeffery, just JEFF)
-Les
-Oscar
-Phinneas
-Rod
-Uli
-Vince
-Wick
-Yancy
-Zebulon

Yes, they were prepared for me in alphabetical order, too. We each made a list, and he chose one name from each chapter of the baby name book. I didn’t use a book, I just listed a handful of names I liked. He seemed very disappointed that he couldn’t choose both Kirk and Kermit with his selected method.

I said, “Hell, write down all the names you want, they’re all going to the same place.”

FLUSH.

I dunno…
Dirk Kirk seems like a keeper to me.

Dirk? As in Diggler?

Oh my.

Looks like Mike and Julia Roberts have similar taste in names.