What's in a name?

I'm at that age when more and more of my friends are having kids. And some of the names a few of them have come up with have...well, sucked. At least they have in my opinion. But I'm also hyper-sensitive when it comes to what people name a child, for obvious reasons. On average, I recieve one comment every day about my name. It's mainly when I swipe my credit card at a store, as was the case yesterday at lunch.

Guy at the Counter: "Elizabeth Taylor?? That's not really your name is it?"
Me: "Yup."
Guy at the Counter: "Holy Sh*t! Hey Brad, we've got a celebrity here. Look, it's Elizabeth Taylor."
Brad: "Sweeeeeeet. Hey you got any Darvocet?"
Me: "Nope."
Brad: "Is that your friend Liza over there?"
Me: "No."
Guy at the Counter (to my friend): "Hey Liza, what do you want for lunch? Your friend Elizabeth Taylor here got a salad."
(Guys erupt in laughter at themsselves.)

Douchebags.

When things like that happen, it makes me think of that old SNL skit with Nicholas Cage and Victoria Jackson. They're a couple trying to come up with baby names, and everything the wife suggests is shot down by the husband on the basis of what jokes people could make about the name in the future. Then, of course at the end of the sketch, you learn the reasons for his paranoia when the pizza man comes to the door with "a pizza for Asswipe."

"It's Ass-wee-pay!", the husband shouts angrily.

In defense of my parents, they nicknamed me "Libby" in an attempt to curb the Liz Taylor jokes. But they didn't think through the less obvious problem with the nickname they chose, as one of the most popular advertising jingles when I was born was for Libby's canned fruits and vegetables. So whenever I was introduced as Libby, people would break into song: "Ohhhhhhhh, Libby, Libby, Libby, on the label, label, label, you will like her, like her, like her, on your table, table, table!"

It was like life in a musical. Strangers breaking into song randomly all the time. But just as Cats would have sucked had its only song been "Memories", my musical sucked, as well. So I decided to weather the douchey comments and get back to basics - specifically, my real name.

Most of the time I can easily dismiss the questions ("Did your parents name you after the actress?", "That's not really your name, is it?", "Did your parents hate you?", "Were your parents on drugs?") with a simple explanation that I was named after my grandmother. She, too, was named Elizabeth Taylor. But the defenses pretty much fall apart when people find out my brother's name is James and stepmother is Ann. Doesn't matter that one's a family name, or that one came by way of marriage. Our family looks like celebrity freaks.

A hundred dollars says my future husband's last name is Claiborne.