Names: they’re something we’re born with and, in most cases, we carry them with us – for better or worse – till the day we die.
However, as people, we always have the option to change it somewhere down the line. (“Max Powers” is always a pretty good choice.)
On the other hand, if you are not a person – if you’re a place or thing – you’re kind of screwed because you have no choice in the matter.
On the plus side, you (probably) don’t have any semblance of what we call a “consciousness” so you’re (probably) not even aware of your unfortunate moniker anyway.
Actually, you wouldn’t be able to read this either so HA!
Unless you’re a robot – in which case, I’m sorry but please find it in your cold mechanical heart to forgive me when the Singularity comes.
Get under control, ADD! Whew, okay – now, one city that consistently makes me contemplate this unfortunate, unknowable conundrum for places and things is Placentia, in sunny ol’ California.
Because, for one, I never read it as “Placentia” the first time I see its name after a long while. No, sir/ma’am – I always read the damn name as “placenta,” which, I’m told, is something significantly different.
Truthfully, I don’t actually know what a placenta is. I only know that it appears in a woman’s innies when they’re pregnant long enough and sometimes it falls out and it’s gross and that in some cultures, they eat it.
I think it wouldn’t be so bad if only I didn’t know the last two bits (“gross” and “consumed in certain cultures”) because those are the only things that pop up in my head whenever the word “placenta” shows up in my life (which is often) and it unsettles me deeply.
This is random, but the first time I heard the word “placenta” was when I heard the Live song “Lightning Crashes” back in 2001 or so.
“Her placenta falls to the floor.” I mean, innocuous enough, right? That is, before you know what a placenta is.
I would sing along to this song and have no idea what was going on, but now I can’t listen to this song without getting the heebie jeebies.
So yeah, sorry, Placentia – it’s an unfortunate name for your city, at least when seen by me and dyslexic people.
Teehee – intercourse.
I knew someone who buried her placenta in the backyard to help a tree grow. Later, as her kids entered their toddler years, she wouldn’t let them wear tennis shoes, as she was sure the government had put transmitters in the soles.
Far as I know, the tree’s healthy.
Huh. I wonder what the hospital did with my placentas. If they’re being used for a human-alien hybrid project I better get some monetary compensation at some point.
I know a midwife who kept a placenta in her freezer in a ziplock bag covered in tin foil. One day her 10 year old son brought his friend over after school and they decided to have a pizza for snack. They put the frozen pizza in the oven and 20 minutes later when they went to take their snack out they realized that it wasnt pizza at all…but something much more sinister.
Every time you people mention the word “placenta,” it feels like a needle is entering my brain without anesthesia.
And Alessandra – your story made me not hungry, instantly.
Hey, it could’ve been worse, they could’ve been called Lake Titticaca.
Is that worse — or better? Think about it. I’m thinking about it right now.
And how does a boobie poop?
@ Jerome: what, you don’t like pizza?
On a side note, who the hell names these towns?