Friday, May 23, 2008

Initial it

For a brief period, I had a green backpack that featured my initials in white machine embroidery. I was one of those kids. The point of admitting to the monogram isn't to call out my nerdiness, which I think is fairly self-evident, but to talk about my initials themselves and their potential hazard.

My initials are KKR. When I had that backpack, a few people liked to point out if you covered up the top of the R with Sharpie, my bag would make me seem like an awful, racist person. This was generally followed by comments that I could never marry someone with a last name that began with K; my mom consoled me by saying I could take R as my middle initial. I've never even dated a Klein or Knauss, but the thought of marriage honestly comes up (in the vaguest terms possible!) whenever I see a K last name.

Like today, walking to work, I saw a nametag stuck to the sidewalk near Dupont Circle. If I remember correctly, dude's name was Drew Kleibrink. Thanks to the powers of Google, I concluded that he wouldn't have been a candidate anyway. (To be fair, belly and age aside, he has donated thousands of dollars to Obama and seems friendly.)

Then, after reading a Post article, I realized that its byline was shared by someone named Kimberly Kindy. Relevant disclosure: she and I have the same first name. This made me 1) wonder what her middle name was 2) if she was married 3) if she was as bubbly as her name.

My consolation? My brother's initials are MMR, which, I have noted since I was little and had to get shots, is the name of the vaccination against measles, mumps, and rubella.

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