Because I am a nerd, I secretly enjoy it when someone's last name is also a word in its own right. Like if your name were Fred Microwave. Something about that would please me. Or Charlene Coffeecup. That would be good. Because it's a last name....and a noun. Fun with phonics! Or Kellie Pickler. Now, I'm not sure what a pickler is, exactly, but I'm sure it's a word that gets tossed around the Vlasic factory with abandon, like, "Marge, get your hand outta that pickler! It'll take it clean off!" or "I don't know, Eleanor. There's something about that new pickler. He's so handsome." Or even, "Kellie sure ran herself through the pickler with that outfit." Because she certainly is in a pickle:
Lady Pickler (ooh, that sounds sort of painful) needs to get herself a new hairdresser, pronto, because she looks like she styled her hair with a mixmaster (a compliment my father used to pay me every Sunday morning when I wandered down to breakfast. Yes, I have really bad bed head. I DO generally comb it before I leave the house, though, KELLIE). Combined with her pickle-y hued dress -- which seems to go from being Ruched On Purpose to Wrinkled On Accident -- and (I'm sorry, kid, I have to go there) her new boobs, which haven't entirely settled in yet, it seems, the girl really is in a bit of a jam.
Or, technically, I guess, a relish.
(Yes, it's Pun Day here at GFY HQ. We have to make our own fun.)
