They finally picked a name

While this may very well be MY blog, it is in fact read on occasion by my sister who bore a son last Friday. So I shall reserve negative comments about their choice of name for my one and only nephew to myself so as not to offend anyone.

Oh screw that, I'm entitled to my opinion! Dammit people, of all the names in the world, why, why did you have choose one that's as soft as a feather pillow?

"Hello, my name is Bradley, and yes I have a floppy wrist because I am a poof."

"Hello potential friends on the elementary school playing field. My name is Bradley, but please don't beat me up. Again."

"Hello, my name is Bradley. I like to write rhyming poetry, I drive a hybrid, and I read the Bible frequently. Amen."

Hey, it's their son. They can name him whatever they want. But the cool thing about being the uncle that lives overseas is that I might get to see him once every 3 or 4 years. So I can call him whatever the hell I like."

"My name is Bradley, but my cool uncle calls me Gator!"

"My Mom & Dad call me Bradley, but my uncle in America calls me Ripper!"

"Every 3 years I get a little confused. My parents call me Bradley but my cool uncle who comes to visit sometimes calls me Slasher!"

The name Bradley should be reserved for Missionaries, Life Insurance Salesmen, Librarians, and Botanists. What has my sister done?!