As last names go, the Asylum staff is batting pretty average (with the exception of Asylum Network Producer Anthony Layser, whose last name is inarguably kick-ass). But what about those poor lost souls who grew up with names that made them the butt of all playground mockery?
We spoke to just a few of them to find out what it's really like growing up cursed with a hilarious surname.
Growing up with a name like Higginbottom was truly a character builder. From the time I entered kindergarten until the present day, my name has inspired ridicule and unique nicknames.
I remember being in third grade. A couple of chairs over from me sat the most beautiful girl in the class. Her name was Angela, and I was in love. One day I worked up the nerve to talk to her, and just as I was about to speak the first words, one of my classmates started a chant of "Bigginbottom." That was rough.
Other variations continually popped up during my school years. Looking back, I am glad that I could help my classmates find creativity. These are variations such as "StinkinBottom," "BootyBottom," "PottyBottom," "DirtyBottom" and my personal favorite, "HickeyBottom."
My last name was something I took great pride in, and was determined to make my dad proud. However, with a last name like Higginbottom, my pride was often put the test. I decided early on that an assault on my last name was an assault on me. I spent several years fighting. I could see the principal's face change when my mom told her, "As long as they make fun of his last name, Michael has my permission to beat their asses."
As I got older, the nicknames started to cool off. I started to realize benefits in having such a unique last name. For instance, it's hard to forget -- people almost always remember a Higginbottom.
Well, I guess I should start out with what my last name is. It's Cox. I'm sure that right now your head is spinning with all of the fun possibilities to rag on that name, but I'll save you the trouble. There are really two things people do with that last name.
The first is tell me what I should name my children. My top two are Anita Cox and Ivanna Cox. Incidentally, my wife likes Roxanne so we could call my daughter Roxy Coxy.
The other thing I always hear is people trying to guess my middle name. There's always the obligatory, Harry, Big, Tiny and Long. Now I'm a fairly large man with size-13 feet. I'm 6 feet tall and was a lineman on my football team. So with that in mind, which one of those four do you think I was always stuck with? Yup. Tiny.
I suppose it could have been worse, but it certainly wasn't fun.
So with this I'm going to "head out." Hopefully this will "stand up" in your minds, and I've helped you "bone" up on your ammo to "blow" up some other poor guy with a similar name. Oh, come on. I had to throw a few in there. It's not very often I'm on the dishing-out end of this.
I learned early in life that if your name can be shortened and morphed into a crude form, then people will figure that aspect out faster than the color of your eyes.
The Fellbaum surname is not nearly as popular in the United States as it is over in Germany, but unfortunately the term "F-bomb" is quite the hit in the states.
In middle-school athletics, my coaches enjoyed shouting "F-Baum" across the field or court. They even went as far as to have the announcer of our football games and track meets call me by their little nickname over the loudspeaker. While my father found this to be quite hilarious, my mother would just frown and turn a light shade of red.
Ironically, I am now a middle-school teacher and coach and have had to place a few students in detention for realizing the connection of my surname and the slang term, but I usually do so with a sly smile.
I met my wife, Hollee Nash, a few years back and while she never partook in calling me by anything but my first or actual last name, we did have one very quick discussion about our wedding invitations. I threw out the idea that we could have a "Nashty F-Baum" wedding. After a three-hour period of silence, I told her that I thought our regular names would do just fine.
We have all been in the waiting room of some sort of office, waiting for a 3 o'clock appointment. Each time the receptionist slides her little glass windows open, and gets off her chair we pause.
But I know when it's my turn even before she utters a syllable. There's always a stutter. And they never get it right.
At least the receptionist isn't mean about it though. Junior high was an onslaught of seemingly endless creative wordplay with my last name. I believe every body part and/or function was combined with my name in order to torment me for four years straight.
It didn't stop after adolescence either. Throughout adulthood (I'm 25), various "friends" and people I've given my debit card to have wanted to be witty and jibe me. Like I've never been called "sack of sh**" or "suck my d*ck" or "succotash."
If I've gotten anything out of my loss of the last-name lottery, it's a thick skin. The thing about not being a Jones is that people remember you. People I haven't seen in years call me by last name, and it usually takes me a minute to remember theirs. We people with the weird last names are, if anything, memorable.
Got a funny last name? Share your tale of woe in the comments.