Kaylee Caylee Kayleigh Cayley K-Lee
I like to think of myself as a pretty laid-back person. I’m not in the habit of telling people how to live their lives. I’m not going to tell you you’re listening to the wrong music, watching the wrong show or using the wrong condiment. Yes, it’s true that people who don’t like horseradish are worse than war criminals, but I’m not going to hold that against them– I’m a nice person! But people naming their kids cutesy/weird/pretentious names is a big bugaboo for me. I just loathe bad names with a white-hot passion.
Often when I’d hear one of the new cutesy names dumb middle-class white people were naming their little snowflakes, I’d say through gritted teeth “That’s not a real name.” Of course, that charge is bullshit. Every name that exists was “made up” at some point. At some point it wasn’t a “real name.” That being said, “Kaylee” is not a real name. It is a tacky, disgusting, cheap-sounding name. It is the ketchup of names, if you will. The sooner that name loses its popularity the better.
Here’s the thing: there are only two things that should have the name “Madison”–streets and mermaids. Are you a street? Are you a mermaid? No? Then head to the nearest courthouse and change your goddamn name. And then slap your parents for naming you after a mermaid from an 80’s movie.
While I’ve got you here, let me make something very clear: people who give their children surnames as first names are horrible human beings. First of all, unless you’re old money, you have no business doing that. And, let’s face it, old money people who do that are probably humongous douches. Do you want to be a humongous douche? Of course you do, that’s why you named your kid “Tanner.” You named your kid “Tyler” or “Tanner” or “MacKenzie” or “Beckett” because you think it gives you an air of sophistication. It’s name as pretentious gimmick. That means you think naming your kids after people like this:
is acceptable. I call child abuse.
If you name your kid one of those awful surname names, I will find you, ring your doorbell, wait for you to open the door, then punch you in the face. Without so much as a “Hello” or “Would you like to see this fine assortment of Fuller brushes?” I’ll punch you. I’ll do it!