The theme song at Stage Stop this year is “Monica, Monica bobonica, bonica fonica fo fonica fe fi fonica Monica!!!!” Yep, it’s the year of the Monicas. It’s all about MEEEEEEEEEEEE!!!!!!! Never before in my life have I been any place where there were so many Monicas in one spot. There were (4) – (yes I counted them) Monica’s in West Yellowstone yesterday plus there was a Veronica! In my world, that’s pretty darn cool. Growing up I was the only Monica in school until I reached high school and then I shared the name with one other gal. I rarely run into Monicas; we’re special!
When I was younger, I didn’t appreciate the uniqueness of my name. I was jealous of all the girls named Kathy, Anne, Renee and Lisa and couldn’t figure out why my mom picked something so weird. It didn’t help that the name was fodder for all the brats that wanted to tease, “Hey HarMonica!” Then there was the fact that little kids could never pronounce my name. They have to reach at least 6-7 years old to be able to pronounce it correctly. It always comes out as “HAmonica” or “monka” It wasn’t until high school when I really appreciated that my mom didn’t give me a name that a ton of other chicks shared. Unfortunately, there were downfalls to having a unique name in highschool. When someone mentioned Monica, everyone knew who they were talking about; it was hard to be anonymous. A Kathy could get away with just about anything because there might be 50 Kathys that could be the culprit. Not me; it was me or one other gal.
This week I learned for the first time what it must be like to be a Kathy, Anne or Lisa and my heart goes out to these gals. They might have gotten away with everything in school, but they certainly paid the price for it. I have discovered that it is a little wearing to constantly hear your name being called and it’s never for you. To tell the truth it’s making me a little bat shit crazy. I’m spinning around like a top answering every time I hear, “Monica!” only to discover no one is calling me or sometimes I cannot see who yelled it. I must look like a fool, constantly yelling, “What? …… I’m over here! …… Yeah ….. Just a minute” and there is no one talking to me.
Worse than this is hearing your name in a conversation. This has occurred so often that I’m starting to be paranoid, “Are they talking about me? What the hell did I do now? Holy crap, am I supposed to be hearing this conversation?” As if I don’t have enough to worry about; now, I have to deal with paranoia and the spinning problem mentioned above. All the spinning is making me dizzy and I’m already a blonde so go figure!
Then this many Monicas is actually causing marital discord. My husband will be in a conversation with someone else and say something like, “I was talking to Monica about the Iditarod.” I, of course, interrupt and chime in, “No, you weren’t!” To which he replies, “Yes, I was.” I argue, “No, it was never discussed.” His nostrils start to flare, “How the hell would you know?” My nostrils flare, “I would KNOW if I was having a conversation.” It’s at about this point the aggravation sets in and it’s realized the conversation was with another Monica. Then we’ve had a few conversations that go something like this, “I was talking to Monica.” “You didn’t talk to me.” “I know, the other Monica.” “Which Monica?” “That Monica!” and he points in some direction and I see THREE flippen Monica’s! Yes, this has become a bit wearing on the patience.
I’m thinking we might have to start calling ourselves Monica1, 2, 3 and 4. There must be a unique identifier for each of us. If not, I might rebel and have to start using this to my advantage and stirring up some trouble, “Yep, I heard Monica did it!” Would be kind of funny; don’t ya think?
However, I suppose I’ll be good since its only 5 more days and after that we can all return to our uniqueness where we are the sole Monica’s in our universe! In the meantime, Cheers to all the Monicas and Veronicas!! YOU HAVE THE COOLEST NAMES I KNOW!!