Saturday, August 18, 2001

I Slept with the Nickleback, the Insecurity Guard, and the Jihad

You may or may not have noticed my penchant for the nickname. I love nicknames. I don't know quite why, but I really do. Well, one of the reasons, as the Cynical One says, is to talk about someone purposely in their face without them ever knowing it or to talk about them in the presence of others who don't really need to know who I'm talking about. But, my lovelies, I assure you that you already know what your nickname, so I would never, ever try to bash your good names in public.

Most of the good nicknames are for boyfriends or men I've dated along the way. Each gets assigned a nickname that best suits his attributes (Stupid Ass) or just makes sense (Five years younger=Nickleback). Insecurity Guard was, well, insecure to a fault. Jihad was a guy who converted to the Muslim faith after we broke up. I mean turban, robes and long beard and all. Holy shit was that funny.

Everything But Sex, is pretty self-explanatory. Malcolm X's Mini Me was this guy from college who was just like Malcolm X except for a major height difference. About seeing eye to eye? That's not cute at ALL. Sprint was a guy who I was slightly related to who I didn't particularly like all that much, but he was always callin' me AND he made me want to run away every time I saw him.

The Quarterback was 4 years younger than me, and built like a quarterback. **thinking a moment...sighing...snapping back...whoa**

The Marrying Kind was quite a tragedy, someone who was down for me, and wanted to get married and all, but I was too busy getting to know some other guys on campus to settle down. Tortuous today because he's so damn fine. And I see him everywhere. It's God's way of telling me you really fucked up on this one.

There was Cheating Son of a Bitch, who I think you might have figured out why I thought of that name.

Oh yah, there was the Closer, (as you can tell I like sports-related nicknames) who was the "One." Yes, the One. Too bad he liked to load 'em up and then send 'em around.

Okay children, it's time for your Queen Mother to head out. On the search for the Franchise Player. On the lookout for the Chosen One. Peepin' da scene for the Beer Can. If you can figure out the last one, I'll send you a prize.

Voodoo





posted by Voodoo Child @ 10:50:00 AM