You’re Calling Me What?

As a child, nicknames develop overtime.

If you eat dog food, they might call you ‘Purina’; even if you didn’t know better and it was actually your parents fault for not keeping an eye on their two year old.


But it’s nothing to be bitter about.

In the motorcycle world, you also get a nickname, only bikers call it a ‘road name’.


Generally, whatever you do to screw up in front of more than two people – that’s your road name.


It’s similar to when you’re a child, but rather than calling you ‘Poopy-Pants’, they call you ‘Skids’ or perhaps 'Streak'.

You get the idea.

In life, nicknames can take years to develop.

They can also take years to lose.

As a “for instance,” the person with the Purina nickname might still be bothered every time he sees a red and white checkerboard pattern or smells dog food.

But in internet time, things need to move a little quicker; and since every other family member and friend mentioned on this blog has an alias, Jorja needs one too.

After this post, Jorja will be called The Squeaker.

The Squeaker does just that – she squeaks

All.

The.

Time.

If she’s hungry, she squeaks. If she’s tired, she squeaks. If she’s happy, she squeaks. If she’s…. well, you get the idea.

And like Sean “Puffy” “P. Diddy” “Diddy” Combs, the name can evolve over time; Jorja is The Squeaker today, Squeekster tomorrow, Squeaky Fromme for a short, difficult period in her difficult mid-teen years, and finally, Dr. Barron (how many people with medical degrees do you know that go by silly nicknames given to them by fathers?).

I give you, The Squeaker.