Nicknames

So the other day I was flicking channels and came across something with Lou Diamond Philips in it. This reminded me of an old guy in one of my college classes that Weisser and I called Sweet Lou Diamond Stone Philips Magnavox (don't ask.) Then my stream of consciousness got me thinking of other nicknames we had for random people. Either these were people that we didn't know personally, but needed a way to describe them; or people that we did know, and we called them something without them knowing; or in a few instances, they knew about these names and were not happy about it.

(Side note: after compliling this list of nicknames in my head, I realized that most of these are really mean, and most involve random girls from college. So be it. Also, basically this whole post will just be a series of inside jokes. But at least a handful of people will enjoy each paragraph, and I will enjoy all of them, and as long as I'm happy, that's all that I care about.)


Two-Face

This was a girl in the Accounting program who had multiple classes with Weisser, Noles, and I. This girl, when she wore makeup, was pretty good looking. Decent anyway. However, when she came to class au naturale, not only was she horribly unattractive, but she looked like a completely different person. The first time we noticed it, I leaned over and asked Weisser who the new girl in class was. After probably 35 minutes of deliberation, we realized it was the same girl, sans makeup. She pulled that stunt a few more times throughout the semester, and it freaked us out every time.


Crazy Karen aka KCK aka KCKCK

This was one of Paul's friends with benefits years ago. As the nickname implies, she was crazy. One of those crazy chicks that you can tell is crazy within the first 5 seconds you meet her, but she never (at first) shows it in an obvious way. The only thought running through your head when you first meet her is "damn, I bet this girl is CRAZY." After awhile, Paul broke it off, because, well, you know...she's crazy. And a couple years later, she proved it beyond a shadow of a doubt. I had dated one of her friends, and subsequently broken up with her at a very unexpected time (not my finest moment, but it had to be done right then. It was for the best. Sometimes you just gotta rip the band-aid off in one motion.)

Annnnyway, KCK was very unhappy about all this. A large group of our friends were eating at Green Mill. KCK saw us, stormed over to me and told me that she heard what had happened with me and her friend. As I opened my mouth to offer up my lame explanation, she reached over me, grabbed a fistful of sour cream that was on the side of my plate (I hate sour cream, but that's not important right now) and SMEARED IT ON MY SHOULDER. Then she stomped off again without saying a word, leaving us to pick our jaws up off the floor. Looking back, I don't know why I was so surprised. I knew that she would pull something like that someday.

Oh yeah, I forgot, the KCK comes from when Paul would tell a story about her. He would start off by saying, "OK, so Karen came over-" and me, being a dick, would interrupt "Oh, you mean Crazy Karen?" and Paul would look annoyed and say "Yeah. Anyway..." and I would do this everytime he brought her up, so she became Karen- Crazy Karen, or KCK, and then eventually Paul accepted it and went along with it, so our interactions became

"Karen-"
"Crazy Karen?"
"Crazy Karen."

Hence the KCKCK. And around these parts, people call the portion of Kansas City that lies in Kansas "KCK" and I giggle inside every time.


Grandma Face

A girl who was, umm, involved with Z a few years ago. It was agreed almost unanimously that she had a rocking body, but her face looked like she was about a week from being 79 years old. Hard to describe without seeing it, really. There was also another nickname that went along with this one, but I am not comfortable typing it out. I'm sure Lane will just put it in the comments anyway, so whatever.

Bonus nickname: one night Z and Grandma Face had what the kids these days call 'anal sex.' The incident was quickly renamed Z's "Poop Chute Riot" (remember the song Zoot Suit Riot...yeah, that's the one.) And for the next few months- actually, scratch that, if we still lived in Grand Forks we'd still do it- every few hours, no matter where we were or how many people were around, Haley would yell out "Poop chute riot!" and the rest of us would yell "RIOT!!!" and Haley would return with "Z's got a dirty mung!" You knowww, like, we took the tune of the song, but changed the lyrics so we could make fun of Z. You don't have to tell me how clever we are, we already know.


Mom aka Jim's Mom

This was a girl who was a senior in high school when we were sophomores. Our regular lunch table was next to her friends' lunch table, so we saw her often. Also, in the interest of full disclosure, our lunch table consisted of a bunch of assholes. She had a definite 'Mom' look to her, but not the kind of look that I usually love and often hit on. She had a Mom haircut and dressed like a Mom, and when we heard her talk she had sounded like a Mom telling her son to go clean his room or something. I don't know really know why, but she became my Mom, as in "Jim, while you were up buying a Cyrstal Light, your mom told us that you had to have all your homework finished before you go out tonight" or "Jim, your mom says that dinner is at 5:30 SHARP tonight!"

So years later, I'm probably 20 and she's 22 or something like that, I run into her at a party (turns out she's friends with a girl I worked with.) Late in the night, she starts hitting on me aggressively. I maintain for a while, and truth be told, she was looking much better those days, and if she were someone else, or if I was a little further in the bag, I probably would've accepted her advances. Instead I finally tell her "Look, I'm sorry. I can't go home with you." She basically ignored me and continued to molest me as I fought off laughter. Perhaps fueled by my 20-odd beers that night, I finally told her EVERYTHING, finishing with, "...so it would be like hooking up with my mom."

If it was a 1980's movie, she would've definitely poured her beer over my head or something. As it was, she just said "I can't BELIEVE you just said that. You are an asshole." She walked away, and I never randomly saw her again. Looking back now, I should've totally done it, it would've been a better end to the story, especially if I would've called her Mom or something during the deed. You can't put a price on that.

{Editor's note: I have an old picture of this group of girls that was taken on their last day of senior year (remember, I became friends with one of them, and she thought this pic was hilarious so she gave it to me. I wasn't taking pictures of random seniors and creepily ogling them for 9 years and counting. At least not those girls, anyway.) In this picture is 'My Mom' and the rest of their lunch table, smiling, linking arms, enjoying their last day of high school together. In the background you can see Lane giving them a look representing his disgust with their constant squealing and picture taking, and above the crowd you can see someone (my money is on Ike) raising his arm and extending his middle finger toward the camera. Just totally destroying their picture. Like I said, we were assholes.}


Indian Bob

This is one of my favorites. Bob was Lane and Logan's suitemate freshman year of college. He was a pretty cool guy, but Lane and Logan decided to make him their bitch. They were still friends with him; but they basically made his life hell. Despite the fact that Bob had blonde hair and blue eyes (a quite beautiful blue, I might add. Like the Pacific Ocean. I could get lost in those eyes for days.....) they decided to tell everyone that he was Native American, and called him Indian Bob. And they pounded this into everyone else's head at every opportunity, so we all had no other choice but to call him Indian Bob as well. Lane and Logan also started a rumor that they came home late one night and went into Indian Bob's room, and found him rubbing his dong in taco salad from Wilkerson late night dinner. They ALSO trapped him in his room by wedging his door with a hockey stick, when he had a big test that morning. Now, normally, I don't condone this kind of behavior, I hate it when people pick on other people. However, this was funny because Indian Bob was a very popular guy, and it was obvious that he'd never been on this side of hazing before, and it completely baffled him. My favorite part was that you could see the look on his face every time one of these events occurred: What the fuck is going on? I'm popular. Girls like me. I have lots of friends and nice clothes and a sweet car. Seriously, what the fuck?

Side story: one night a few years ago, I was at Stormy Sledster's or Down Under or something, up at the bar getting a couple drinks. Indian Bob grabs me out of nowhere, with a wild, desperate, but mostly shitfaced look in his eyes. He tells me I have to find Lane and tell him to stop telling people it's his birthday. Apparently Lane had told the whole bar that it was Indian Bob's birthday (it wasn't) so everyone was buying him random shots and getting him completely fucked up when he had class in the morning. I sympathized with his situation, even joining him in calling Lane a few names, and then my drinks came: a beer for me, an Irish Car Bomb for Indian Bob (Lane had already found me and told me what was up.) So I just grinned, slid the car bomb over to Indian Bob, and yelled as loud as I could, "Haaaapppyyyyy Birthdaaayyyy!!!" As I walked away, I heard someone at the bar exclaim, "Bob, it's your birthday today? Bartender, I need a shot!" and, as I walked further away, I could hear Indian Bob wailing "It's not my FUCKING BIRTHDAY!!! God dammit Laaaaaane!!!!"



OK I had more but this is spiraling out of control and I've got city league basketball in 45 minutes so I'm wrapping this up. I'm interested to hear your stories, or maybe some other good ones that I forgot...