Drinking It All In

I hate nicknames. I've always hated them. I like calling things what they are. I think there's a certain respect associated with calling you Joe, Megan, Alex Mack, Mr. T., whatever your name may be. Nicknames, in my estimation, are given either to those you love or those you love to mock the existance of. People who are incredibly average don't usually have nicknames. Sure, their friends might call them by their last name or an abbreviated version of their name...or maybe even a play on words, with their name...something like "Nate Dogg" or "A-Dogg" or "Ker-Bear" or other animal related handles...but nothing spectacular. I don't like that either. That actually goes against everything I stand for. If someone is nice and they introduce themselves with their last name, I'll oblige them. That's their choice. But I don't like it. Anytime I call someone by any kind of nickname, it's laced with irony....cause I'm just postmodern like that...and I don't like people telling me what to do.


A working environment is a hotbed for nicknaming. You can go from Dan to "Buttfuck Princess" within days, depending on who you're around. I worked with a "Porkchop", a guy named "Muscles" cause he would get mad, flex, and walk out, on a regular basis....I, myself, actually unceremoniously christened a kid "Tower of Power" cause two different girls tried having sex with him and he couldn't get an erection. It was too great a thought for even me to pass up. This kid Mike was the king of nicknames though. Everyone made fun of him so often he must have 17 nicknames. I can't even remember most of them. "Final Fantasy" and "Poopdick" come to mind. I once said to him that his mother was a blowup doll and his father was a frankenstein, but that's not necessarily a nickname....more of a statement of fact.


I got that job cause a good friend of mine, at the time, worked there. So, the one day I was working, washing dishes, and then it happened. I was taking my good old time with it and my friend called me "Slow Juice". Now, it's almost 6 years later and I'm still not even really sure what that means....but it stuck. Partially, cause it flows off the tongue pretty easily but, mostly, cause a loudmouthed egomaniac who was there wouldn't ever let it go. So, I had to live with it. I did something unexpected though, which was I got really great at everything, faster than everyone else, and it was decided to drop the "slow". I had, in a way, conquered my pathetic, mocking nickname.


Time went on, I eventually quit, but here's the problem: I still know some people from that time that call me "Juice". And, sure, I long ago came up with O.J. Simpson related jokes for it and it's a lot of fun but when I meet their friends, they'll invariably refer to me by that ridiculous name. Now, personally, for instance, if I'm being introduced to a cute girl I don't really want their first impression of me to be "the guy named after a fruit's nectar". I would rather get dysentery or maybe put my dick in a toaster, honestly. So, then I have to work up to that level of humanity where I can be called Anthony or Tony. It's doing nothing but causing me grief.

I understand where it's coming from though. People want to connect with other people, they enjoy humor and acknowledgement, and those are the feelings it's rooted in. So, even though I don't want to call you "Tornado", or "Big Daddy", or "Skunk Pussy", I accept it. It might improve another guy's shitty day. Sometimes, you dislike something but it makes other people happy and you let it go. You have to pick your battles.

All in all, I guess what I'm saying is legalize weed, prostitution, and gay marriage.

It Is What It Is, Baby

I feel like I need to warn you of something. My friendship is not unconditional. There is one big rule. If you want to continue being my friend, don't have a baby. That's not a part of the plan, ok? I'm not trying to go hang out some place where there's a baby; they cry, they do disgusting things, they interrupt our conversation, their asses challenge your senses to fights, they're fucking assholes. "Oh, he doesn't know any better", I hear you saying, in the future. Well, who cares? What he feels about what he's doing is irrelevant. He's just a stupid baby. That's why I blame you, for bringing him home. I believe they call that irreconcilable differences. You don't mind being annoyed constantly and I am against it. It's ok. We can agree to disagree...but don't expect me to be coming over for stew anytime soon.

We can hang out again, at some point. I'll say once the kid is like 14 years old. So, you'll get some time to think about what you've done and realize I was right. If you have any more kids, in the meantime, that could complicate things. You might never see me, for the rest of your life. I'm just saying, keep me in mind when you're getting down.

Another problem with having babies is inevitably you become the asshole. The kids start off as the assholes but, at some point, you become the mom or dad that embarrasses and annoys your child so much they entertain thoughts about what a bottle of sleeping pills tastes like. And, watching that, as an outsider, is as difficult as dealing with a baby. Seeing someone who was your friend think they're being cool and making a jackass out of themselves in front of children....it's just heartbreaking. Go ahead, say "That won't be me. Me and my kids will be pals". You're halfway to disaster, friend. The only way to be pals with your kids is to smoke weed with them. And then, they'll just turn out to be mentally defective deadbeats.

So, in conclusion, having a baby not only ruins your life and our friendship but, more than likely, it will ruin the baby's life before it's ever born. I mean...we're friends....do you think someone who's friends with me would be a fit parent? It's laughable really. Just smarten up and leave those eggs unfertilized. I will throw you an enjoyment of living shower.