This past Thanksgiving, my extended family and I went to the lavish "Prime N Wine" restaurant in Mason City, IA, located next to "Papa's Bar & Grill" and a field. I shouldn't complain in a town where the most popular place to eat is literally called the "Rib Crib".
Being Thanksgiving, it was quite packed as we waited for our name to be called in the lobby area. I was busy trying to count the dialysis machines when I heard it:
"Boinkin - party of 19! 19 for Boinkin!"
I was standing next to my uncle Steve just then. Something you have to understand about my family is that we're that generally straight-laced Swedish family that doesn't get too rowdy and is polite to a fault. No mullets and sleeve-less shirts and hooting at monster-trucks here. But BOINKIN!!! My god! Steve and I started giggling like little school-girls.
I tried to shush Steve, but it only made things worse. "Shhhhh! There's 19 of them! There could be Boinkins anywhere!"
Then Steve lets all Scandianavian discretion go out the window and exclaims quite loudly: "Don't bend over in front of the Boinkins!!!"
I was crying at this point.
Just then a guy in his thirties walks by and goes "Excuse me, I'm a Boinkin".
That was it. I lost it. I basically had to hide behind a fake tree while I laughed my ass off.
He said it with such dignity, but also a sense of defeat that can only come from having your name laughed at your whole life. Also, I love that phrase "I'm a Boinkin." Like "I'm A-Boinkin on down the road." Sounds like something the Seven Dwarfs would do.
But to their credit, since there were 19 of them, it seems as though the Boinkins have truly lived up to their name.