Me: "Wow. This should be the main feature in a bad sci-fi B flick. It's the Gooilad emperor's ship! With big swoops on top."
Mom: "That goes in the very back, on the bottom shelf."
Me: "I'm naming him Fred."
Mom:"....Why are you naming the sandwich tray?"
Me: "Anything this big deserves its own name."
Mom: "What about the avacado green chips and dip tray? It's going to feel left out."
Me: "We'll call him George."
So, while the rest of the re-loading escapade lacked proper nouns, ("This goes next to the thing with the thing..." "What? Mom, I need a descriptive adjective at least.") at least Fred and George were easy to describe. And Mom got into it after a little bit.
Mom: "I have no idea where this plastic pitcher goes..."
Me: "Oh, that was on top of George before."
Mom: "On top of George? Not Fred?"
Me: "Does that look like it would fit on top of Fred?"
Mom: "Maybe if Fred didn't have his top on..."
Me: "Then we have to find a spot for Fred's top. Remember how long it took to find his top last time?"
Mom: "We could store his top beside him."
Me: "There is no 'beside him', Fred takes up that entire back space. Leave him alone, he's fine. George isn't being useful, let's store it on top of him."
Mom: "Are we going to name the pitcher?"
Me: "Sure! That's Frieda."
Mom: "Frieda? No, Frieda and George cannot be on top of each other in my cabinet."
Me: "Would you prefer Pablo? Then you could have a two men on top of each other."
Mom: "Oh, that's just worse."
Me: "What? You've already got two gay men in there, why not one more?"
Mom: "How do you know they're gay?"
Me: "Mom, they are party serving dishes. Of course they're gay."
Mom: "How is a plastic pitcher gay?"
Me: "Okay, Pablo can be the token straight guy, but you still have a lot of gay serving gear in there."
Context is out, loud and proud.
(QWP, of course)