I just discussed with a coworker how fantastic it would be if (IF) you had a son, and you named him Oliver. Cutest damn name ever. (Yeah, I know it’s Lauren’s dog’s name.) She was all, that’s completely cruel, people will call him Ollie and what about the songs, Laura?! Whatever. Every grown up Oliver is the coolest. They always grow up to be web designers or DJs. I’d have that kid frikkin’ embrace the name. Example: if it wanted seconds, I would demand he ask by saying, “please, can I have some more?” HOUSE RULE.
And whatev to the critics. Try growing up a last name with the word cock in it. I understood by FIRST GRADE my lifelong nickname plight. And it is always – ALWAYS – the part that I have to constantly spell out for people, because apparently that syllable is impossible to understand or they’re just completely incredulous. Them: “Is it c-o-k?” Me: “Nope… c-o-c-k.”