About Me

Recent graduate of Texas Tech University. I am now working for the "man" and hating it.

Thursday, February 28, 2008

The Curse of the Firsty Firsty


The term “Firsty Firsty” comes from a movie called Puddle Cruiser. This movie was one of the first movies created by Broken Lizard, who you may know went on to create Super Troopers and Beerfest. A coworker recommended this movie to me and was insistent upon how hilarious the movie was. I took his advice and rented the movie one weekend and stayed in expecting a night of pure hilarity. I could not have been more disappointed. The movie was absolutely the worst movie I have seen in quite some time. I repeatedly fought the urge to turn it off in the hopes that it would soon get better. It did not. I had believed that my coworker had sound judgment and had interests and tastes that were similar to mine, so I was baffled as to how he could have recommended such a horrendous movie. The only possible explanation for his favorable review of this movie is copious amounts of mind altering drugs.

It turns out that there was one semi-funny scene in the whole film that was probably funnier to me because I can relate to it. The name of the big, good-looking antagonist with which the main character is competing for the girl, is Traci Shannon. Traci is described by one of the characters as being a “Firsty Firsty,” or having two first names. Not only does Traci suffer from being a “Firsty Firsty,” he is a “Firsty First, Girly Girly.”

Being a “Firsty Firsty” is something that, unfortunately, I am all too familiar with. Technically I am a “Firsty Firsty Firsty” which has caused immeasurable amounts of confusion to the people in this world. Ever since I can remember, people have fucked up my name. I am constantly called by my last name, Lance. I understand that this is a common first name and a very honest mistake, but the problem persists even after multiple corrections and by people who I have known for a long time. The part that is mind-boggling to me is that the mistake is made by dumb people and smart people alike. Many very intelligent persons have simply decided to ignore the comma that separates my first and last name on many standard documents, and call me by which ever of my three titles they so choose. I have simply given up and answer to all three names without hesitation.

It could be worse, however. I was recently made aware by my mother that if my grandmother had had her way, my first name would have been Smith. Smith? Smith Lance. Take a second to think about that. Can you imagine the mindfuck that would have been unleashed upon society? It is possible that peoples’ heads would have blown up upon being informed that my name was not Lance Smith, but Smith Lance. This is the same lady who named my father Lacy. Sucks to be him. I cannot thank my mother enough for throwing a fit and refusing to let me be named Smith.

So this is the long-winded explanation for the title of my blog, Musings of a Firsty Firsty.

2 comments:

Edward said...

I am so glad you cleared that up. I had no idea what the name ment...I thought it was because it was your first blog. Shows you how much I know!

$2 Dan said...

Smith Lance? Smith Lance? Why the fuck would it be between Smith and Garrett Lance? (Ok I swear that was my only Superbad line in my whole reply) Do you realize you owe your quality of life solely to your mother? If she didn't step in, Smith Lance would definitely not be in the same shoes as Garrett Lance, and trust me my friend, they would not be as nice of shoes.
This is a weird case now that I think of it. I was originally contemplating that there was a possibility that if you were named Smith Lance, you would have been made fun of so much as a kid that it motivated you to work out like a mad man, thus promoting you to athletic greatness. In these cases, the weird named person will become popular and liked among his peers from his confidence attritutable to his athletic abilities. However, in your case, nobody would ever accept someone with the name of Smith Lance, no matter how good you are at sports (and lets face it, you are white. So there's a cap on how good you can really become, but that's a whole different topic).
So to sum up my insanly long winded response to your blog, you better be getting your Mother one hell of a Mother's Day present.