Jennifer Moody

Today’s fun little diversion comes to you courtesy of Theresa Hogue and Rebecca Grizzle, both of whom noted it on Facebook. If you go to urbandictionary.com and type your first name into the search box at the top, you’ll find all sorts of interesting definitions about Who You Are.

Who We Are is pretty much what I’ve come to expect from this name: not terribly exceptional.

Top definition for my name: “A fun, outgoing person. Generally smart but can be a total blonde at times. Someone who likes meeting new people, and smiles a lot. A person who never would just turn on people. A very good friend. Someone you can trust. When she’s mad, stand clear she might blow her top, but a person who doesn’t get mad easily so you don’t have to worry about that.”

“Can be a total blonde at times.” What in the world could I do that would qualify for that? Surely not the day I stepped on a rake and nearly broke my own nose. Or the numerous times I call my children by the dog’s name. Or the Sunday school lesson I prepped last week based on verses that were meant to be used this week. (“See?” I told our priest triumphantly, when she went to check the memo she’d sent me. “You wrote it wrong!” She pointed to the date and I shut up.)

But hey. I’m generally smart, and on top of that I’m fun, outgoing person. And you won’t like me when I’m angry, so shuddup.

I do like definitions #2 (”She has the most beautiful eyes and hair.
She smells that of a fall evening, and her voice will typically serenade you,”) and #3 (”A really sexy, funny, smart girl that every guy wants,” as in, “Damn, you lucky bastard, your gf is a total Jennifer!”). Those are adjectives I can get behind.

Definition #5 adds this thought: “Usually doesn’t act her age, whether it be old or young.”

I’m assuming Little Princess submitted this last definition after I grabbed her for a quick swing dance the other day in the middle of Bed, Bath and Beyond. In my defense, they were playing, “Wake Me Up Before You Go-Go,” and some cultural niceties just have to be observed, even if you are standing near the toilet plungers.

Besides, she should talk. Just yesterday she took out the scissors to open a new package of raisin boxes, and then I caught her searching everywhere trying to figure out what she’d done with the raisin box she’d just liberated. She finally went to get another one. I found the first one in the drawer with the scissors.

Guess I should have named her “Jennifer.”

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