There's one of those horrible "gated communities" called the BRANTLEY near where I live, and every time we pass by it my mother and sister and I start to have a conversation like this
"Would you like to visit the
Brantley today?"
"It's very nice. Our houses all look the same at the
Braaantley."
"Yes, and our farts don't smell here at the
Braaantley either."
"As a matter of fact, here at the
Braaantley, we do not fart."
"That is a plebian thing to do."
"We do not have buttholes here at the
Braaaantley."
"No, such a thing as that is unheard of here!"
"Our dogs are all small and puffy."
"And all of our trees and lawns are plastic."
"And our lawn is made of shaved money. Here at the
Braaantley we do not have something so atrocious as dirt."
On and on and on. We have so much fun at the expense of those poor (and presumably horrible, rich, white, pretentious, Escalade-driving) people (morons) at the Brantley.
It's more or less the worst name ever except maybe
Braxton.
This message was edited 8/27/2007, 4:49 PM