Thursday, December 2, 2010

The Genesis of an Alter-Ego

Maybe *you* have a nickname left over from when you were young and free and whimsical. Maybe friends used to call you T-bone or Skeeter, or Doob or Cochese. Whatever. I don't know. (Unless you were *already* my friend when we were young and free and whimsical, and then sir, I probably DO know.)

My name, somewhere around 1995 morphed from the totally acceptable Sam, to Sam-o, or Sammo, as I have continued to spell it. So friends would be all "Sammmmm-OHHHHH" and that was how it was. How it still is with certain people, and how I still am when I pull on my cape and go off to fight crime with verbal assassin powers.

Sam is for my friends and family, and for when The Man chooses a name instead of "babe." It also used to be a LOT of fun when people I had to talk to at work would get pronouns all messed up. "Is Sam there?" "This is she." "Oh! I mean, oh. I thought..." "Yep. I'm Sam!" Fun times, fun times.

Samantha, heaven forbid, is for when my parents feel the need to stir up ancient memories of me being sent to my room for some early tentative verbal assassinatin' and taking my precious books away as punishment. THE HORROR. It's also for doctor's offices and/or insurance forms. The end. It might (or might not) be how Oprah introduces me to her audience. (The jury is still out on my Oprah moment name.)

But Sammo? Sammo is my inner rock star. She's the one who fearlessly got her first tattoo at 18 and applied lipstick during the ordeal. She's the one who doesn't throw up at the merest whiff of tequila. She was who passed the motorcycle class and could shift into third gear without whimpering. She slapped a personalized license plate on her second Nissan and drag raced anyone at a stoplight. Even when it was hopelessly impossible to win. She is my parallel-universe alter-ego who does the things that average everyday Mom Sam doesn't have the time, inclination or let's face it, balls to do. Samantha does laundry, Sammo does body piercing. It's very simple, really.

So today, maybe you should break out YOUR old nickname and do some damage. The Man has old football and Air Force nicknames. (Blue and G.Q., respectively.) EVERYONE has at least one. Let your alter ego take over and see what happens. Maybe it will at least make your Facebook status update more interesting; because let's face it, if I have to read one more update about Christmas shopping or your intestinal virus (even though MY intestinal situations are THRILLING) I will probably buckshot-pellet my monitor to death.

Comments, questions, who is your alter ego?