Summer Rain

I bet when you saw the title of this post, you thought you were going to read a beautiful story. "Summer rain" has a romantic connotation. At least for me. I'm picturing a tropical place, where the Summer heat and rain drops coalesce to form a picture perfect paradise. A ridiculously gorgeous baywatch-esque babe prances about in the rain (but in true romantic fashion, her makeup doesn't run). Her "prince charming" then runs to her in slow motion and extends his arms to embrace her as she eagerly plunges into his arms...just as he flexes his unnaturally large biceps, as luck (and Hollywood) would have it.

Well I'm not a novelist, nor am I Nicholas Sparks. So this is about me. My god given name is Summer (yes, my mother's name is God). Nice to meet you...put 'er there.

If your name is not Summer, than you probably don't understand that the name continually exposes its beneficiaries to many an irritating happenstance.

A few quick examples of questions we Summers face on a daily basis (Of course, by "we" I mean "I"):

1. "Did your mom name you Summer because you're so hot?" This is always asked by the most repulsive of potential suitors. This is not only the most common of puns, it's also the most bothersome. I flat out resent the implication that my mom is the kind of person who would think her newborn is "hot."

2. "Hey Summer, where's Winter?" Followed by the kind of laugh that can be heard at any country club around the world. Not funny guy. Please try and be a tad more original. Winter is probably hanging out with your wit, which could be anywhere. But I think we can both agree that neither are here.

3. "Awww, you are Summery, aren't you?" Accompanied by the "chin pinch." I'm undecided every time I attempt to interpret this one. I get stuck somewhere between feeling insulted and being creeped out. This is so nebulous because I can only guess what your Summers were like as a child. If you spent them working as much as the pre-teen chinese garment laborers, I'm wondering what I did to make you so miserable. Yet, if you had the most gratifying of Summers in your youth, I'm disturbed that upon our introduction, you are reminded of some pleasurable experience. Jerk vs. perv, that's a toss-up. I prefer neither.

The name Summer is rare, and there are none in the corporate environment in which I work. There are however "Summers" in "business." Sure, they don't wear the same kind of suits that I do, but birthday suits seem to be generating some hefty revenue. And you thought there was no point to this post...

So I was at a strip club one night, and I was chastised by four scantily clad women who were using the alias, "Summer." I was threatened and consequently given the following ultimatum: find a new name or some go-go boots. There was no in between. Apparently, since the name is so rare, strip-club patrons will "make it rain" (thank you Lil Wayne) for anyone named Summer. This brings a whole new meaning to the phrase "Summer rain." Because the name pays huge dividends, the majority share is just simply not acceptable to them...the strippers want exclusive rights to the name.

Whether it's men in their pursuit of delivering a clever line, or the conquest of the half dressed hard-knocks, life as a Summer is hard. I'm thinking of founding the American Society for Summers (ASS), in an effort to raise awareness and eliminate discrimination.

*************************************************************************************************************

Ok, Obviously, the stripper threat and the American Society for Summers, are fake. I'm sorry to say the rest is true. :) Special shout-out to my amazing dad, who told me to answer the "Where's Winter?" question with "in the retarded bin like you." I did by the way, throughout 3rd and 4th grade.

Please don't judge my dad, where he's from it's common to keep retarded people in bins.

Night, night bloggers. :)