What's in a Nickname 10/14-10/20

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Brian
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What's in a Nickname 10/14-10/20

Postby Brian » Tue Oct 14, 2008 9:26 am


Brian
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What's in a Nickname 10/14-10/20

Postby Brian » Tue Oct 14, 2008 9:26 am

When out to lunch with co-workers, you bump into a close friend who refers to you by a nickname. Because of its unusualness, the nickname catches the interest of one of your co-workers who asks for the story behind it. Start your story with, "This may come as a surprise, but ... " and end it with, "And that's how I got the nickname (fill in the blank)."

Please limit your response to 500 words or fewer.

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Re: What's in a Nickname 10/14-10/20

Postby werewolfy » Tue Oct 14, 2008 11:33 am

"Hey Mink you want to go to that new movie tonight?"

"Frankie first, please, please stop calling me that in public. Yes I would of course I would. I almost skipped out this afternoon to go watch it. Pick me up at six, I won't be able to leave here until then I hope."

Danny in the cubicle across the isle heard the conversation. Great just what I need. E-mail Danny learning my deepest secret. And this close to the full moon I was sure to get noticed.

My sensitive nose twitched. Someone had an animal in the office. Damn. Double damn. I hoped they kept it to themselves or it would be an interesting evening. The day before the full moon was always my undoing. If I stuck to being around humans I was safe. If I touched anything else I stood a chance on becoming that animal.

One month ago a slip of memory about the date cause me to try on Cassie's mink coat when she was gloating about what her finance gave her. During our candlelight dinner at Frankie's place that night I became a five foot five long mink. It was a very exiting night exploring the crawl space under his house where I scampered to hide. Unfortunately he had the area under surveillance cameras. He was a tech geek that filmed urban wildlife for web videos. The mink video made him a bunch of money, but the critics complained, "It had to be faked. The animal is much too large for the prespective.

Today someone bought their kid a pet rabbit on their lunch break. It was Gossip Gerty. She walked around holding the furry critter. I tried to be busy but I finished just as she came by. The rabbit must have known. The animals always did. It jumped onto my desk then into my lap where it proceeded to fall asleep. I returned the hopper determined to beat the change tonight. I cut the rest of work for the day and went shopping for rabbit food. I also called Frankie with the news. "Bring a DVD to my house. No movie theater tonight."

He arrived early but my appetite was already gone. I nibbled on a head of cabbage even though I was mostly human. I did have a furry button rabbit tail. And my ears were rapidly expanding. His eyes got really big as I changed into some clothes that wouldn't shred with the change. "I get a real playboy bunny tonight. Furry ears and a button tail."

"Well if you don't do something about it soon you will get the big thumping legs that could throw you across the room too." It was the first time I passed out during sex. Not that it was that boring, I changed. I had to laugh when I woke up. We must have been together when I changed. We both were rabbits. I hoped birth control lasted through forms eight babies was a scary thought.

I guess my new nickname is probably going to be Bunny, his is deffinately going to be Thumper.

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RE: What's in a Nickname 10/14-10/20

Postby FountainPen » Tue Oct 14, 2008 2:44 pm

This may come as a surprise, but I hate telling this story and since you are forcing me to, here it goes. I’m not making this up. I want you to know that. If you don’t believe me, you can talk to my buddy-o-pal over there. There is a legend that goes something like this.
While visiting the jungles of South America, we , my wonderful friend over there and I, came upon a jungle tribe.
They proceeded to tell us the story of how a man brighter than the sun and had two eyeballs that could see more than just images would come to tribe. With no more than a glimpse, all the women would be impregnated all the same time. Of course, we all laughed and thought that it was the funniest story that we had ever heard. This was a feat that was harder than one would think.
Some of those girls were uglier than sin. I mean, this one girl looked like she took a dive from the ugly tree hitting every branch on the way down. There was a summer tooth girl, and a rather large girl…that didn’t smell that good. I mean they all didn’t smell that good, but this one girl smelled like a skunk sprayed her, slept in elephant dung for a week, and had gas that would not let up.
On the other hand, we were on the outskirts of Brazil. Most of the girls were so hot, they made my eyes, that could see more than images, pop right out of my head. They made my mind’s eye work over time, if you know what I mean.
Anyway, so I got together with my dear friend over there and thought that this prophecy was too good.
A dare. A dare that he would not let me live down. I, for one, with all my pride and all my stupid courage, had to fulfill. To this day, I still don’t know how I did it.
One night, I, single-handedly, snuck into each one of those wild women’s beds, and planted seeds that will bring up a different breed. The breed of me.
Let me tell you, some of those women got the better of me, and some of them made me almost cry. The funny thing is, that for the most part, it seemed like they were expecting me. I could have sworn that their husbands were sleeping with one eye open and laughing.
All in one night. I visited every girl and women in that tribe. Geez, after that night I could hardly walk, or even move.
All-in-all, we stayed there another month and a half. By that time, we had all but seen all the girls hurl. The stench was awful. We, then, ran for our lives, to say the least. I’m glad that we got out of there alive.
Imagine, a village of little me’s running around. Ha ha!!! Yup, and that’s how I got my nickname.

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Re: What's in a Nickname 10/14-10/20

Postby bkennealy » Tue Oct 14, 2008 7:35 pm

This may come as a surprise, but I was once a young boy. In fact, that gentleman who called me Dirtball, the one with the eye patch, well he was a young boy at the same time as me. We went through it together. Yeah, it was a very long time ago indeed. 1988 to be precise. Much has changed. For instance, when I was a young boy, candy cigarettes were not a problem, and denim jackets were en vogue. Reagan was a good old boy, and nobody trusted the Russians. We didn’t even have The Simpsons.

When I was a young boy, I was like many other young boys. I enjoyed Bon Jovi’s cowboy rock, my pair of purple and white Zubaz, and I worshipped Hulk Hogan, Kirk Cameron, and MacGyver. Hell, I even thought Alf was clever. To put it simply, my judgment was not then quite what it now is. Forgive me.

With financial support from my parents, I joined a soccer program for young kids. I believe it was co-ed, and we ran around all together without much purpose aside from chasing that silly ball. I don’t recall being very good at the game really, and in fact, I think I scored on my own keeper. Twice. In addition, I had a bit of an asthma problem that doctors tried to treat with a blast of steroids every Autumn. I’d get fat, lose my stamina, wheeze up and down the field, and basically do my best to stay vertical. With that said, it’s only natural that I’d take a seat on the sideline fairly often. You know, to let the engines cool.

To paint a picture for you, for example’s sake, I’ll tell you that I sat once straddling the chalky borders of the soccer field, sprawled out all sweaty and beet red. I huffed and puffed alongside the water coolers and bright orange parking cones we used for kicking drills, with my Velcro shin guards hanging loosely off my legs, and tried desperately to pass the time until I could go home and watch MacGyver disarm some Russian subs with bubble gum and a nail file.

Now, I’ve already mentioned willingly that I lacked sound judgment as a boy. It should then be expected that, when I found little dirt pellets on the ground, I misused them. Of course, some groundskeeper put the dirt chunks there to fill divots and to keep the turf in a playable condition. I shouldn’t have removed them from their homes, and I most certainly shouldn’t have thrown them at any of my teammates, male or female.

Unfortunately, after taking a few stinging shots to his back, a boy named Kyle got involved in the dirt throwing with me. He landed a few good shots on me, and I hit him squarely with the one that ended the game.

That’s actually how Kyle got the eye patch, and that’s how I got the nickname Dirtball.

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Re: What's in a Nickname 10/14-10/20

Postby Writerchiq » Wed Oct 15, 2008 9:01 am

This may come as a surprise, but… I was once a beautiful, sexy, alluring woman. You wouldn’t know it to look at me now – stuffy professional, two kids, 60 pounds heavier -- but there was a time over a decade ago when men’s heads would snap when I walked into a room. Swaying my hips, tossing my long, red curls and looking like Julia Roberts in Dying Young, I could get just about any man I wanted with just a slow, sauntering look and a smile. I didn’t have money, connections or fame, but I had power... sex appeal.

My friends were clueless. To them, I was their gal pal but, around men, I became a vixen. Perhaps that is why my best friend Janet, and her then fiancé Alex, unwittingly decided to invite me along on a last-minute weekend getaway to Disney World. She wanted a female to balance out their group.

You see Alex had invited his single, shy cousin Jessy. Jessy had dark eyes, long lashes, dark thick wavy hair. His Mediterranean features complimented his tall, lanky body and innocent sexuality. I’d never met Jessy before but when they rolled up to pick me up at my townhouse, there was instant chemistry. By the time we drove four hours from Miami to Orlando, Jessy and I were well on our way to getting to know each other. A stop at the liquor store to get tequila and other provisions caused the evening to take a sharp turn toward flirtation. Laughter. Teasing. Hot, languid staring. Come-hither batting eyelashes.

After Janet and Alex called it a night and retired to their bedroom, Jessy and I stayed up talking. Quickly, the conversation turned intimate. One thing led to another... Kissing led to petting and petting to… well, you get the picture. By the next morning, Jessy and I were an item. Jessy didn't know what hit him. And, Janet and Alex were, well, just stunned. Janet could not understand how I had seduced this coy boy in less than 24 hours. At breakfast, Alex decided that my new nickname would be K-love.

It’s been a dozen years since then and I haven’t see Jessy since shortly after that weekend. We each went our separate ways and nothing lasting ever came from that weekend encounter except some great memories and my nickname. Ever since then, my friends all call me K-love. Most use it as a sweet term of endearment, implying that I’m loved and loveable. But only Alex and Janet (and Jessy) know that the word ‘love’ in my nickname is meant as a ‘verb’ and that I earned my moniker that night in Orlando when I wielded my sex appeal like a sword. And that’s how I got the nickname K-love.

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RE: What's in a Nickname 10/14-10/20

Postby Alien8 » Wed Oct 15, 2008 11:00 am

This may come as a surprise, but I have a secret life that few of my co-workers know about. They think I'm perfectly normal, but I have a strange hobby.

I was having lunch with two colleagues and up popped the devil where I least expected her. It was a friend of mine from folk dance, I hadn't seen her in a few weeks, and the employee cafeteria was the last place I expected to meet her.

"Hey, Alien, how ya doing?"

"Joanne, I exclaimed, great to see you!"

She replied, "I just started this morning on the 15th floor, in the graphics department. I didn't know you worked here."

In the meantime, Joe and Melissa gave me the strangest looks. Alien?

Joanne continued: "We missed you at Balkan Night two weeks ago. They had this amazing band from Bulgaria. You would have loved it."

Bulgaria? Balkan Night? I had never mentioned that to my colleagues. They would have thought I was nuts, but here was Joanne, announcing my craziness to the world, the secret life of Alicia Melendez.

Now I remembered. Balkan Night, a party at the Folk Arts Center, with several bands playing music from Eastern Europe, was the same night my daughter Kylie was rushed off to the hospital for an emergency appendectomy. I had planned to go, but the plans went out the window when the ambulance rushed Kylie to the hospital. The surgeon had removed the appendix just in time. It had been about to explode, and release toxins into Kylie's body. The surgery had gone well and she was now convalescing at home.

My co-workers did a double take. Melissa said "Wow, Alicia, I didn't know you were a dancer. I love "Dancing With the Stars."

Joe was silent. His daughter, like mine, was on the soccer team, and sports were his element, not artistic expression. He gave me a strange look.

I quickly introduced Joanne to my do-workers, and invited her to sit with us. She had to return to work in ten minutes and had a quick errand to run, so she couldn't stay.

"Joanne, I couldn't make Balkan Night because Kylie was in the hospital for an appendectomy."

"Sorry to hear that. How's she doing?"
"She's doing well, thank you. She's at home, has to stay home from school for the next month."

"Tell her I wish her a speedy recovery."
"Thank you."
"Will I see you at the dance this week?"
"Maybe. If I can get my husband to stay with Kylie, I'll come."

"Can I get your work number?"

We exchanged phone numbers and arranged to meet for lunch sometime soon.

"Gotta run. Bye!"
Melissa was overcome with curiosity. "Alicia, why did she call you Alien?"

I couldn't evade the question, so I explained:

"Alien is short for Alien from Planet Bulgaria. It's an inside joke about me at the Folk Arts center where we dance. You see, few Americans know about Bulgaria and its culture and studying it is my passion. My husband says that music from that country sounds like some weird stuff from outer space and I mentioned that to a few of my friends there. They thought it was funny and Joanne said that since most people think we're stange anyway, we might as well be aliens from another planet. From then on they called me Alien, or Ali for short, especially since my real name's Alicia."

Melissa asked: "Where's Bulgaria, anyway? It is somewhere in Asia?"
It was time to teach Melissa a little geography. Anyway, that's where I got my nickname.

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Re: What's in a Nickname 10/14-10/20

Postby Almira Torralba » Wed Oct 15, 2008 9:19 pm

The rest of the research team, not to mention my mentor Dr. Erasga, never would have found out about my college nickname if they had left the Diaz Diner five minutes earlier. However as fate would have it, just as I was helping them settle up the bill, a whole bunch of guys sauntered into the cafeteria, cool as you please.

"Hey Repolyo, what's up?" Leo said matter-of-factly, as if he had conveniently forogtten where we were.

I froze as I turned to look at him. He wasn't alone--he was with Mark, Francis, and Alain. Oh great. How was I going to explain this bunch to my coworkers?

"Leo Garrancha, I told you, it's Ida Almario, not Repolyo." I said, forcing myself to remain calm though I really wanted to throttle him

Dr. Erasga cocked her head as she looked from me to my friends. "Repolyo? Where did that nickname come from?" she asked. Clearly, she would not let us go until she found out why my friends had named me "cabbage" .

I got a pen from my pocket and picked up a napkin. Carefully, I began to draw on it: first the wrinkled cerebrum, then the reticulated cerebellum, followed by what I figured would pass for the brain stem. I held up the napkin. "What does this look like?" I asked Dr. Erasga.

"A brain?" she wondered. "Well, I know you want it to look like a brain."

The boys exchanged gleeful looks. "See, I told you Ida, you still draw your brains to look like cabbages," Mark grinned.

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Re: What's in a Nickname 10/14-10/20

Postby eyahhh » Sun Oct 19, 2008 9:50 am

The Funny Guy


This may come as a surprise, but when I was ten years old I wanted to be a comedian.
This was years before I became the serious Human Resource Manager that I am today.
I would have everyone cracking up with my one-liners and my puns of word play. I was voted Class Clown when I graduated high school. Then when I entered the Army and did my tour of duty in Vietnam, I didn’t have the same passion for jokes like I did before. I guess being in the jungle all day and night with a fear for my life did it.
MY first night in Nam did it, I know it did. There I was telling a few one-liners to my platoon and a shell exploded in the midst of my platoon, killing five members. I dropped to the ground and looked around, then I saw them. Five Vietnamese get ready to fire at us. I grabbed a grenade and lobbed it at them, they didn’t see me and I killed all five.
Knowing that I had to kill or be killed took my sense of humor away. To this day I have dreams of that day. Some dreams I am left in the field without my legs, and I see them laying a few feet away from me.
When I got out of the Army I went to college and worked real hard on my career. As most people think that I am always calm, cool and collective, I haven’t always been that way. I used to be scared for my life, and couldn’t go anywhere where there were large crowds. I hid out for many years in the library studying and reading.
When I was twelve was when I got the nickname, I was running away from some bullies after school. They cornered me at the ballfield. There were other kids there and I
started to feel brave. I started to tell one-liners to the bullies and thinking of an escape route. But I didn’t need to escape, because they decided that I was cool. The jokes won them over and that’s how I got the nickname “ The Funny Guy”

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RE: What's in a Nickname 10/14-10/20

Postby MattJ » Sun Oct 19, 2008 2:56 pm

“This may come as a surprise, but, I wasn’t always in social work.” Already regretting what was coming out of my mouth I continued, “I used to work, well let’s say I used to do more physical work.” I was praying that any interest in it would pass, and, for a second I thought that they might let it go.

“Well, what was it?” Jamie eventually asked. Repeating herself louder this time she asked, “What is it that you used to do?” She was smiling one of those big surprised smiles, the one that says I am about to hear something very funny. I couldn’t help but smile back. “I really don’t want to get into it right now Jamie, maybe some other time.” Kevin was finishing off his drink and waving the bartender down for another. After he paid for the round Kevan turned on his stool and said, “What is the big deal, the convention doesn’t start again until two, and, with you here we are safe from getting into any trouble.” “And look, I have this round.”

Looking at what is left of my beer I sigh and then my eyes drop down to my watch. I fully know what time it is but it just felt like the thing to do. I look up to see Jason leaving the darkness of the hotel bar and entering the sun and start thinking back. Why did he have to come in here? This is Cleveland, why in the hell is he in Cleveland? I felt the beer, floating my brain like it does when the first nice warm buzz hits you.

I couldn’t quite come up with one solid image let alone any fixed memory of the days with Jason. I was flooded with thought. “Huh.” I looked at Kevan and I knew out of anyone he would be one that could eventually pull it from me. They were staring. “Another round?” I ask more to brush my last thought away more than anything. It didn’t have the effect I wanted so I pled, “What?” “You have never given nicknames when you were younger?” Part of me yearned to tell them, was it the beer? How painful would it be to think back on let alone talk about that part of my life? How would they react if they knew? Yeah, and what would they think when they heard it?

“I was a soldier for many years.” I feel it start to just roll out. “I was in a recon team and Jason was in my unit”. “We took out targets secretly.” “I was good at what I did but after a while the idea that I was a killer really bothered me.” “I wouldn’t talk after a mission and started crying myself to sleep at night and that is how I got the nickname Dough Boy.”

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