Oh right. My blog. I forgot about this. Fortunately I remembered it, because I have something really important to talk about. Yes, you’ve guessed it, I want to talk about awful company names. Names like Xerox, Asplundh, Sbarro and Tteokbokgi. Wait, that last one might be food. Strike that. I think companies, ALL companies should have names like Bob’s Printer Store and Jim’s Jam Company and The Really Fun Place to Buy Really Fun Things Place. You know, easy to pronounce and figure out what they do/sell/service/etc. Is that so much to ask?
Oh, and yes, this applies to people, too. No more Gnuyngyn or Fitxemharpinflier or Xxztyllmpoo (although that last one is usually reserved for outer space creatures). No, from now on everyone should be named Bob or Jim or FunPlace. Or Buzz. Buzz is good. And last names? Smith is acceptable. Jones is ok. Stuff is very good.
So come on, people. Let’s get revolting! No, I mean, let’s revolt! Right. Enough with the unnecessary tongue twisters. In these difficult times we don’t need this kind of trouble. We need our lives to be less complicated. We need something, anything, to just be easy. And I say that this is a good place to start. So, whaddya say? Meet me at Sbarro’s in an hour? We can TAKE THEM DOWN!!!
Well, after I get a nice slice of pepperoni with extra cheese, that is.
Sorry, I’m only human.
I’m holding up my end. Wait, that sounds dirty somehow.
You’re right. I absolutely agree. Can I have some of your pizza?
Stuff
Middle English, from Anglo-French estuffes goods, from estuffer to fill in (with rubble), furnish, equip, of Germanic origin; akin to Old High German stopfōn to stop up, from Vulgar Latin *stuppare
Date:
14th century
So, chances are the name was Stuppare before Ellis Island.
Pizza?
I feel the same way too, but it’s their problem if they don’t want us to visit their store regularly or even promote their name. Sometimes it complicate things out, just because of name.
How about names that make sense, that’s until you walk into their place of business. Last year in California my great great grand father lost his loafer in an escalator accident… so to cover his prosthetic toe that looked like a cork, he sent me on a mission to buy him loafers, but I couldn’t find any. And just when I was about to give up, there it was, a shop called Rising Loafer. You wont believe how happy I was!
When I ran in to buy a pair, no where did I see shoes… just tables with ketchup, and the smell of bread. In Germany I ate at a restaurant that also sold plants, and I figure this might be similar, so I opened the menu to order some blue suede shoes. It didn’t take long before I found what I was looking for, so when the waiter, a cute girl who didn’t look like a shoemaker, who asked what I wanted, I asked for The Loafer, which also came with spinach, onions and cream cheese, which was so cool! Not only did they sell shoes, but it also came with groceries!
About a few minutes later she brought me back an omelet and a drink, which is different than the coffee and tea they offer at shoe stores in Germany, but it was great! When she came back she said “I hope you enjoyed your meal,” and I said “Yes, but can I have The Loafer?” She smiled and took my order again, but before she left I told her that I need it in a size 10, which made her give me a beaver face. Never thought I see that again. Anyway… She returned a few minutes later with another omelet, so I ate it. No way am I turning down free food! I then called her over and asked her if I could see the loafers since it didn’t state what they looked like in the menu, but she said “sir, our breakfast is fresh. This is not a fast food joint” which was good to hear, because for a second I thought I was in a restaurant. She then gave me the bill, $20.40, so I paid. About 30 minutes later she asked me if I wanted coffee, and you know what, it wasn’t free! Because an hour after I drank that and another cup she brought me another bill for $4.50, which I paid. Half hour later she came back and asked me if I was waiting for someone, and I told her “no...”, so she said “sir, I’m sorry… there are customers waiting for a table,” so I said “but I want the loafers,” so she then said “we don’t server breakfast after 12,” which was good because that would look kind of weird. I then got up, and after an hour waiting by the casheir, a nice man asked me politely “could you please leave,” and I said “I didn’t get my loafers” so he said “Normaly we don’t cook that at this time, but I’ll cater it for you,” then asked me how many. I told him one pair, gave him my grand fathers information, and when I came to pick it up a half hour later, he gave me an omelet wrapped up and said it’s free, like the others wasn’t? Anyway, I ran home and gave it to my grand father, forgetting the loafers, but he said it was ok.
Oops! I gave you the wrong email address, Buzz. See what Rising Loafers did to me. I’m still mad that they didn’t give me the shoes since they forgot!