Mikki Brisk

A year or so ago, I was hanging out with my gal-pal, Would-Be-Sue. She was telling me about a friend of hers and that person’s curious language usage. It seems that when that friend-of-a-friend doesn’t know someone’s name, she refers to said stranger as “Scooby.” Would-Be-Sue went on to share stories of witnessing her friend calling folks “Scooby” and how at least one person took offense, thinking he was being called a dog.

Well I don’t know what happened, but my synapses re-routed themselves that very night, and ever since then I’ve taken to calling all kinds of people “Scooby” or “Scoob.” When I’m in traffic (and not swearing), other drivers are “Scooby.” When I’m greeting someone I like, the adored is “Scoob.” So far, no one has taken offense. And I sincerely hope no one does, for absolutely none is intended.

But I’m not gonna lie here – it’s gotten out of hand. I’m using “Scooby” (or some variation) about a jillion times a day. And I don’t foresee any impending changes, y’all.

So to my friend – Would-Be-Sue – I’d like to say this: thanks a lot, Scooby. I can’t get this danged word out of my vocabulary! I feel like a total Scoob.