the nicknamer

"mmm... sad clown," she says without flinching, "receding hairline, pasty, potbelly, ugly hair... sad clown." This was one of the most recent nicknames my sister had conjured up to refer to a mutual acquaintance. I had to admit, she was spot on in her classification. 

It is safe to say that my sister, Sarah, has a knack for attributing nicknames to people based on physical features and/or disposition, depending on how well she knows her victim. She's kind of like a Rain Man for honing in on peoples' characteristics and, with a moment of steady calculation, she will mold you into a fictional character, an animal, a retail location, a city or even a noise (this is when she's getting really abstract). It's kind of like the most useless gift one could have. I am insanely jealous that i can't take credit for what i am about to reveal. 

Let's take it nice and easy and look at the animal categorization. Most people can bear resemblance to an animal-- all it takes is one glaring feature and shes' got you nailed. Big, buck teeth? You are a rabbit, or a bunny, depending on how colloquial she is feeling. Now, on the flip side, a severe under bite deems you a bulldog and general dental protrusion might yield a rat or, if you at least a little bit pretty or perhaps more timid, a mouse. Let's look at some other features: beady, deep-set eyes and a hooked nose entitle you as a hawk or an eagle, depending on complexion, and, given a bit more length to your nose you become a heron or an egret.  Bulging eyes and supple lips make you a goldfish. Extreme eye bulge makes you...well... Tori Spelling (sometimes the line grows fuzzy between what can be categorized as human and animal). And, if she deems you a Wildebeest, then God help you.

As you can see, my sister's talent for characterization is one tempered and deeply impacted by physical nuances (if she actually knows you, she will consider personality, too); therefore, her cruelty is much more complicated than one might think. I think it was Nietzsche who mentioned that the nuances are what drive people to conflict (i can't be sure because I learned about Nietzsche primarily in introductory courses during undergrad. As a result of undergraduate intro courses, i can hold my own on just about any topic for just about five minutes before I need to excuse myself.). It seems silly to say that one sibling is a hawk and the other is an eagle simply because the former is a brunette, but i suppose people fight over more inane things all the time. Despite how much they have in common, a singular nuance is too much to say they are the same. 

If i am to make this all relative, Sarah would be the hawk and I would be the eagle. We look enough alike to be noticeably related, except that she is naturally more brunette and I am blonde (though now we are both blonde). As a middle child, she craves attention and I, as the oldest, crave perfection and domination. As a result, we clashed for years, torturing each other physically (i can't count the times my sister would wield hairbrushes at me and try to recreate Houdini's death with her fists socking my abdomen) and mentally (this was my technique, always teasing her about her clothes or something equally stupid.). 

We seemed to call a cease fire when I moved to Arizona. Maybe distance does make the heart grow fonder.Maybe we accepted each others' character deficiencies. It might even be as simple as a desire to band our ill will together toward others. We both share the same love for the absurd and for tormenting unassuming bystanders, for example, through nicknaming. I consider this to be a playful sort of cruelty as it really is irrelevant, especially considering that our prey rarely catches wind of these names, which we create primarily to amuse ourselves. 

When my sister proposed the idea of retail identities for others, I was intrigued and envious that she had outwitted me, simply by thinking of it first. I don't remember, but I was probably saucy toward her until I admitted that it was brilliant (never outwardly, of course, but by embracing the strategy). She introduced the tactic through this little gem of a name about a college friend with whom her relationship was a bit, well, blurred. My sister will never openly admit when she is dating someone/ interested in a guy. It all goes back to that whole idea of nuances; she's a stickler for details and will spend hours affectionately relaying why so and so is a loser, but never admit why she is dabbling with that loser. 

This particular loser she had dubbed "Old Navy". When I asked her how she had created this nickname, she responded, " Usually a piece of crap that will fall apart after a few wears, but, occasionally, a good find!" Was this a backhanded compliment to this poor boy? I would like to think so. So succinct and all inclusive of the person she had described. I was impressed. My respect deepened even though I hated her for a few days after learning about her latest in our coded language. 

We began to generate other possible profiles to fulfill popular men's retailers. Express Men roles down his BMW lease's window to say, "I may look like a million bucks, but this a pastel, white cuffed poly-blend is giving me a rash across my waxed chest!". Armani Exchange elbows you at the club , "Hi, I'm an Italian Stallion and if i turn to much, my left bicep will rip the seam of this great fitted, silk blend v-neck... but they're great to look at and do you like my cross?" Jose A. Banks might boast, at the end of the back 9, "J. Crew is so fucking fruity... stupid bastards with lobsters on their khaki's... since when did preppy become prick-y?" Ok, maybe I'm getting carried away, but you get the point. 

One night my sister revealed to me  the unthinkable: she, the nicknamer, had been nicknamed. I laughed when she told me that our mutual friend, Kate, a native of Scottsdale where I now reside, had nicknamed Sarah as "Scottsdale". She couldn't have been given a more appropriate nickname. I don't know one midwestern girl who spend quite so much tim trying on metallic stilletos that would lead to insta-death on Michigan's frozen turf or who deems techno-electronica appropriate study music before an animal physiology exam. If my sister has a soundtrack in her mind, it is most certainly ' Ooonst oonst oonst" with a few strobe lights intertwined. 

When I speak with my sister long distance, I make it a point to call her by her nickname. In a weird sort of way, it reduces the physical distance between us to just a detail and our bizarre desire to codify everyone comes full circle.  I may live in Scottsdale, but Scottsdale lives inside her, despite the fact that her apartment in Lansing is 500 feet from a cow pasture.