What's in a name?

This evening, Chris and I were engaged in some playful banter, trying to outwit the other one.
It was going so well for me, I was sure I had just dealt the final witty blow when his retort rang through the house with the finality that neither I, nor he, expected.

These words, which were originally intended to admit defeat, as he acknowledged my victory, set our home ablaze with questions of inference or double-entendre.

He said these words ladies: "Ok, Smarty McLardy-pants, you win."

Only I so did not win. Not with a quip like that one.

We often say things similar to this (in structure) in our home. Things like, Bonnie McBonnertons, Hungry McHungryface, etc. But NEVER has anyone ever stooped to Smarty McLardy-pants.

Is there anything worse for a husband to call his wife?

So now the question: "Does my butt look big in this?" or "Can you tell just by looking that I have gained weight?"
Or any of the various and sundry weight-related questions a woman might ask her husband have forever been tainted in our union by the utterance of this new and awful nickname:
Smarty McLardy-pants.

For what it's worth, he denies any underlying meaning to this new nickname, he merely chalked it up to 'something that rhymed with smarty.'
He even laboriously re-articulated it saying, "NO, I said 'Smarty McLar-T-pants."
But you all know better, ladies...

How convenient! It's like we have a new super-race of men who can stealthily win 'clever wars' with unintentional insults!!

Don't worry - I already forgave him. And to prove it - I even set up a spot for him on the couch, pillow and all...

;)