By Jim Kelly Jr.

In any guy’s life there are a few friends who have nicknames that just stick. You know the kind of nickname that causes you to introduce that person to your other friends, relatives, professors, or authorities as something supremely awkward like “Boner”. To you it isn’t weird- it’s what you’ve called the guy for 8 years, and for 8 years you’ve explained why you call him that to every girlfriend, parent, teacher, or judge who’s asked.

Every guy has those friends.

As for me I never really had a nickname outside the three letter first name I go by. The “Big Cat” portion of my name came from a pen name, and no one really called me that unless they didn’t know me at all (questions like “you’re Big Cat?”), until they were introduced to me and then called me Jim. Thrilling I know. But I have more than a few friends who landed nicknames that have lived on through the trials and tribulations of collegiate life to the trials and tribulations of the 20 something era when you still act like you’re in collegiate life but now have to go somewhere every day that pays you money. To me those guys will always have their nicknames; always kept alive by force if anything.

So what makes a good nickname then? Well first off you can’t make up your own. That’s like me making a proclamation like You know MySpace Tom? Yeah? Call me that. Call me MySpace Tom. That’s not how you get people to call you by a nickname that’s how you get people not to call you. It’s a useless effort, like trying to be the best looking person with leprosy. Five year olds get away with this method by forcing people to call them Batman or Elmo for a month or so until they move on to something else. You can’t.

A nickname has to come from a friend, an enemy, a stranger, a celebrity; it just has to come from someone. You can try Chris Berman nicknames: like Tommy “Don’t Call Me Thomas” Patterson, or a real one like Well Dressed Amani Toomer for example. The problem with this method is introducing him to anyone you know, say a girl you met at the bar, will instantly make you look like an idiot. The guy with the nickname won’t look bad, you will for trying to get this person to call him by something that is like a sentence. The worst is forcing a nickname that everyone but you knows just doesn’t work, and you’re oblivious to it, like requesting an ABBA song and not knowing it attracts gay people to you. You have to make sure that your other guy friends are going to use it too, or else you’re just the creepy guy who calls your friend Toilet Water while everyone else calls him John.

The most common nicknames come from last names, as anyone named Rodriguez knows, mainly because they are just plain easy. But what is the fun in that? Where’s the fun in calling your buddy Steve S-Rod, or your buddy Gus Woodson Woody? The good nicknames are ones that have stories behind them, and usually constitute the name being disliked by the guy yet him still responding to it, like Turd Fredricks, or Dumbo Jones. You’ve got to find something that clicks. If he looks even remotely like a celebrity, preferably an ugly fat one, then you’ve got to exercise that option and call him Jon Lovitz (Lovitz for short of course) or if he’s large and outgoing call him Tommy Boy. The idea isn’t that the nickname is supposed to bring him praise and fame, but rather you’re supposed to laugh every time someone uses it. It’s like continuously making fun of your friends for years, so much so that their own mother refers to them as Grimace. Then you have succeeded.

The reason I bring this whole topic up is that KLo, a buddy of mine who’s name comes from a JLo-like mixture of his own name, mentioned the anatomy of the nickname, and why I have given so many out and so many have stuck to our collegiate friends, not to mention one of the best nicknames in sports, Pacman Jones, just decided to be called Adam. The secret to the nickname is simple: you have to use it. Say your buddy’s name is Joe, but one time he got extremely drunk, pee’d his pants, and threw up in a potted plant. The next day you talked about it at 2pm in Wendy’s over $13 worth of fast food each and came up with the fact that you’ll call him Pots. Now the trick is not to stop this. Call him Pots, have your friends call him Pots, have your parents refer to him as “what’s Pots majoring in?” and have your professors asking “do I have a Pots in this class?”. Start to morph it to Potsie, then find your lone, out casted, mad-at-the-world red headed friend and call him Richie Cunningham, and that greasy guy you know call him the Fonz. Then you’ve succeeded. You’ve turned a meaningless Thursday night drinking fest into a name that you’ll introduce your children to when your they meet Pots’ children at some barbecue when you’ve lost all your hair and he’s on his third wife. Poetic isn’t it.

Guys like Pacman Jones try to abandon their nicknames, for a bad reputations or just a change of pace, but once you’ve been introduced and responded to a name that’s it. Now the world will just call him Adam "Don't Call Me Pacman" Jones, as they've already started. There’s no going back. If an entire party knows you as Spoons you can’t tell them the next day at work at your name is Jonathan, even if they know it is, you will forever be a utensil to them.

So that’s the idea. If you’ve got a nickname embrace it. If you’re giving them out don’t let them die. Let your children call your friends Uncle Spanky or Spork, but wait a few years to tell them why. The anatomy of the nickname lives on through names like Moose and Slater, but it'll be up to those around them to keep them going.

This way, every guy will always have those friends.