My trip to Disney World is being ruined by the fact that the Stuckey's rest-stop chain refuses to recognize my right to exist.
They've got personalized key chains, wallets, corkscrews, faux license plates — everything, but not one says "Curt."
My7-year-oldbrother, Chris, however, was in hog heaven. Not only dideverything comein his name, but there were countless variations —"Chris,""Christopher," "Christian," "Christina," "Christine." I gotmore andmore ticked off as my sister drove us down the interstate.
"Who died and made his name king?" I asked.
My sister laughed, then told Mom, "maybe he should go to Sunday school, at least once."