Last night Ben decided he didn’t want to be called Ben anymore. On my blog, not in real life. I can still call him Ben in person. So I gave it some thought.
First, I considered using a symbol, like Prince, but I decided that would be a huge pain in the ass when typing. Then I thought I would use Ben’s nickname from his days working as a river raft guide in college.
When he showed up for his first summer, he was a vegetarian and one of the veteran guides immediately began calling him Sausage because (1) its ironic and (2) Ben hated the nickname. Which is exactly why all good nicknames stick. Ben spent the summer hassled by the other guides and the teenage girls riding in their rafts yelling “Heyyy Sausage!!” across the rapids. It drove him crazy mostly because, as he puts it, “when teenage girls are calling you sausage they assume you have something good to hide.” Eventually the summer season came to a close and he returned to college having accepted meat back into his diet and his new nickname Sausage.
So, Sausage seemed like a pretty good pseudonym for my blog. But then I thought “how cool would it be if I called him Brad Pitt?!?!” I can write about all the times Brad Pitt and I have dollar tacos on Tuesdays. Or I can reflect on that summer when Brad Pitt took me to Vegas with him on a business trip and I drank a shit load of champagne at Aureole while he was busy working. Or the time Brad Pitt crapped his pants because he couldn’t resist drinking a tall glass of milk even though he is lactose intolerant (this may or may not have actually happened). Or the time I had to take Brad Pitt to the hospital because he ate peanut butter that may have had rat poison and decades of mouse guts in it. (That is a post that I will have to remind myself to write someday.) And that is when I decided that Brad Pitt is way more fun than Sausage.
So, from this point forward the husband formerly known as Ben will now be known as Brad Pitt.
PigTales 