‘Tis the Season to be Naughty

*To the tune of Good to be Bad by Pentatonix*

So bad, so bad, good to be
So bad, so bad, good to be
So bad, so bad, well it feels so
Good to be bad, good to be bad

I’ve been thinking ’bout this year a lot
Whether I’ve been a good girl or not
Santa promised he won’t get mad
Sometimes it feels so good to be bad

I couldn’t help but have a little fun
Said all the golden years are said and done
Let’s try next year and see where I’m at
But, oh it feels so good to be bad


You May Call Me…

I have accumulated many nicknames throughout my 23 years. Some make sense while others are just strange. Why do some nicknames stick while others don’t get a chance at their 15 minutes of fame? Also, what if we were able to pick our own nicknames? That’s actually a terrible thought. I imagine my five-year-old self choosing a nickname like Puffalump after my favorite doll. Nobody wants to go through life with a name like that.

Let me tell you about the nicknames I remember and how I’ve earned them.

In 7th grade, I was at volleyball practice and a friend decided Prairie was too difficult to yell out while playing. At the time, everyone thought it was great that I shared my name with Prairie Dogs. This is how P-Dog was born; an abbreviation of sorts for a cute furry animal. This name stuck around for a while and some friend’s still use it.

From P-Dog, came Rocket Dog. I had a pair of shoes that were the Rocket Dog brand. This was a short-lived name as it was just a joke between two friends.

My next nickname came when I joined my high school dance team. CD’s with our competition song would be handed out and every time, the name written on it would be spelled differently. Finally, one of the team captains shortened my name to P-Ray. This name stuck around for a few years and I still hear it once in a while when I run into old teammates or their parents.

A year or so later, P-Ray transformed into Stingray as an attempt to give everyone on the team an animal nickname. This didn’t last very long.

Sometime in High School, I was at a friend’s house when I received my next nickname. My friend’s dad stuck a post-it to my shoulder with a drawing of a little house. It took a while but we finally caught on, Little House on the Prairie. The name stuck because it was clever.

After Little House came Ginger. I would call myself a strawberry-blonde rather than a ginger, but enough people call me that to make me question it. Either way, people called me Ginger or Ginge, because I guess that’s the shortened version of it?

A strange one that never stuck was Tundra. This came from my split second decision to jump into a glacier lake in New Zealand and try to climb an iceberg. This was during a travel study trip in college so it only lasted a few days until my new nickname was coined: Peaches. I got a bruise from everything. A chair lift latch came down on my leg and it turned blue and purple before I got to the top of the lift. Bruise like a peach.

Next up, Perry. This one is all thanks to a Wendy’s employee. On a work trip to Arizona some co-workers and I went to Wendy’s for lunch. The employee asked our names and displayed them on a TV screen when our food was ready. Either I mumble when I talk or the employee just didn’t know how to spell Prairie. This name has stuck.

Lastly, I have a nickname that only a few people have called me in my life. This one is real original, PK. I think everyone uses his or her initials at some point for a nickname.

I’ve been given more nicknames than I can remember. From there, each nickname has morphed into three other nicknames. I pretty much answer to anything because I’ve been called so many different names.

What is your weirdest nickname?

You May Call Me