I don't know whether you've noticed, but I have a funny last name.

I've had a funny last name for pretty much my whole life.

The only person I ever met whose last name was as funny as mine was a woman in graduate school whose last name was "Bosomworth." No lie. Believe it or not, my last name was just as funny.

Naturally, we took to each other right away.

Then I got married and--go ahead and tell me I've lost all my feminist street cred--took my husband's last name. It's easy to spell and doesn't reference a female body part.

That was a halcyon period of my life. An Augustinian time when everything was simply splendid. I had a normal last name. A name that didn't make sober, serious, mature people burst out laughing. And I had started blogging as Poppy. Just Poppy. I have to tell you, it was delightful.

But unfortunately, there are a lot of Poppies on the internet. In fact, there may be more poppies on the internet than there are in Flanders Field (and if you don't recognize the reference, put the laptop down and go find out. Or google it. I'll wait.)

There's Tall Poppy and Blue Poppy and Poppy Mom and Poppy Cedes and with one thing and another, sometime around 2005 or so, I decided I needed an internet last name.

So I picked Buxom. I don't really know why.

Well, that's not true. I don't know whether you've noticed, but I have a somewhat childish sense of humor. Also, "buxom" is fairly descriptive.

(Although I could just have easily have picked "Brown" or "Brunette." Why didn't I? Why?)

See, some kids at my kids' school are all up in my son's face (I exaggerate; they're actually too short to reach that far) about my internet surname. They're telling my son that "Buxom" means "having really huge breasts."

This just goes to show you how dumb today's teenagers are.

First of all, it's wrong. If you don't believe me, check a dictionary. If you want a synonym for "having really huge breasts," try "stacked."

And second of all, if you're interested in really huge breasts, why waste even one brain cell deciding whether your schoolmate's mother's internet handle is accurate? I mean, how deeply icky is that? Your classmate's mother's rack? Even Pamela Anderson's sons' friends would feel weird going there.

And what a ludicrous waste of time when you could be checking out internet porn instead.