Well, a couple of things apparently. I looked it up. On Wikipedia. Because I needed a little help figuring out where I was going with this post. And I like to source unreliable websites filled with considerable amounts of misinformation. Because I’m a risk taker. And this blog is like an unedited suspense film, featuring a far less resourceful hero than the likes of thriller genre superstars like Tommy Lee Jones and Morgan Freeman. If this blog were to actually be adapted to film, I think that my strong and silent brooding writer-type character would be best portrayed by, well- Tom Skerritt. It’s a dream. More suitable a candidate? I don’t know, probably Tara Reid or some other talentless past-her-prime, perpetually drunk celebrity.
Actually, all of my mom’s friends call her Tara Reid, you know- as a NICKNAME. OK. They don’t. But I got a little off topic, and this time I actually began this post with the intention of writing about what I originally intended to write about. Actually, I already wrote it. But I’m away from my computer right now, and I thought it would be nice to write a little intro in the meantime. You know, add a little something fresh to make the obsessive revisions a little more interesting. For me. And, speaking of INTERESTING, that’s what I used to call my sister… as a NICKNAME (also a lie). I obviously have a problem. Besides the fact that I’m a liar, I can’t seem to find a way to segue into the meat of this post, which I’ve already written! Yesterday. At the Stockinette, with the help of Katy (a delight!) and some nice well-groomed lady I drove away with my big filthy mouth, coincidentally freeing up the table I prefer when writing these middling posts. Hey, you know- funny thing. POSTS is what we used to call my… something with a different name… because it’s a nickname.
And now for the crap I wrote yesterday:
“A nickname is sometimes considered desirable, symbolizing a form of acceptance, but can often be a form of ridicule.”
Oh, really? Ridicule. Thanks a lot, Wikipedia. I’m pretty sure ridicule means “a form of flattery” or something very similar. That’s what my mom told me, at least. For years.
Diminutive: Stinky Cheese. Yes. My mother used refer to me as Stinky Cheese when I was younger. Like this, “Sarah, you’re like a stinky cheese. It’s not for everybody.”
And this was supposed to make me feel better. She, of course, would explain that stinky cheese was generally considered to be the finer of the cheese family, and that people who liked cheese would absolutely LOVE me… but, also, that some people who liked cheese didn’t necessarily eat the stinky kind, even if it was usually more expensive and considered a specialty food, and that I shouldn’t judge things buy the price tag, and that classic American cheese was just as good a cheese as any- that generic cheese is still delicious, and affordable, and probably way more popular than those pretentious overpriced cheeses (myself) that people never eat anyway. Except at, like, Christmas parties… because, let’s face it: stinky cheeses stink. This is about the point where her explanation would trail off. I think there was something wrong with her short term memory. Selectively, anyway. Like, when issuing verbal consolations to me, relating me to foul smelling cheese.
Hypocoristic: Winky. When I was just an infant, my father started calling me Winky in reference to my winking in response to his winking, convincing both of my parents that I was destined to become a real success. And, I have to thank them. For, without their patience and moderate expectations, I never would have accomplished some really impressive and memorable things. For example: winning the “Amateur Musician” Award button in Third Grade (which I still have, on my person), countless Honorable Mentions, and plenty of homemade Blue Ribbons fashioned by my sympathetic artistic mother.
More currently, their unfailing support has contributed my intimidating and often humiliating social valor and many other modern talents and accomplishments, such as consistently updating my status on facebook, drinking and complaining about how “small this town is” like a townie at local bars, and, of course- I have this mediocre blog to take credit for. But, just so you know, the affectionate Winky has since been modified to the slightly more mature, and less embarrassing, Wink. It really makes a difference.
Pseudonym: Asshole. My most current social nickname. Hmph. It’s a curious thing. I don’t know who originally or specifically fashioned this unique local celebrity-like stage name for me, but I’ve noticed it’s really been catching on. Everywhere I go it’s like- Asshole this, Asshole that. Or, “HEY, ASSHOLE.”
Yeah, I really don’t know where to go with that one.