This might seem like an ironic topic of conversation given my unique first name. I should talk. But let me indemnify myself by stating that my mother gave me this name. It is in my birth certificate. Besides, I have at least half a brain. I wouldn’t do this to myself if given a choice.
There’s a Singaporean director who calls himself Oxide Pang. I am assuming Oxide was the name he gave himself instead of his mother giving it to him. Otherwise, Mrs. Pang is just cruel and explains a lot why his son does horror movies. But I am quite sure little Pang, besides not knowing what “oxide” means, wanted a name that stood out and wanted an X in his name.
Then there’s this one that falls under the “it-has-to-be-true-because-it’s-so-ridiculous-that-no-one-could-make-this-up” category. Her name is Choosy, who introduces herself with “Hi. My name is Choosy but I am not choosy.”
Then there’s Bamboo Chee.
A few years ago, I worked with a Vergina. She said it was a loose combination of two of her favourite names: “Virginia” and “Gina”. I was going to suggest to her the combination of two words what befit her personality: “Fuckingmoron”.
Also, there’s a Pansy.
And a Handsome Lee.
This is clearly a point that should be included in the checklist for identifying Type 2s and Type 3s.