• Brittneylynn  (Just one word.  My dad calls me this.  It’s so cute.  He goes, "Brittneylynn, now listen here."  Or "Brittneylynn, why aren’t you eating meat?"  He does it so often I wonder if he calls me that to my sister as well.)
• Twizzler  (My friend Travis called me this.  One day at work I was in the kitchen where we both worked completely loaded down with plates in both arms.  It is about that time that Travis offered me some of his licorice.  I chose to have some even though I don’t really like licorice, but I really want to, ya know?  So I just keep eating it then spitting it out.  It’s wasteful, really.  Anyway I opened my gullet like a hungry fish since I couldn’t take the licorice fromhim by hand.  Seeing me in a compromising position led Travis to decide to smack me about the lips and face with the flacid piece of licorice a la some freaky porn movie starring grandpas.  Henceforth I was known as Twizzler.)
• Twiz  (It evolved.  This is what he calls me currently.)
• Booty  (This did tragic things to an adolescent’s self esteem.)
• Skinny Innis  (My dad’s side of the family–a robust set at best–called me this.  I PROVED THEM WRONG!)
• Burt ze Bra  (I’m not really sure about this one.  My friend Carrie was weird.)
• Skeeter  (This was my code name from when I was in the DYCG club.  A club that had four members, two of which hadn’t gotten there period, who liked to make up dances.  DYCG stood for Daring Young Courageous Girls.  And that is pretty much what we were.
• Britta  (My sister calls me this.  Britta is how I signed my own yearbook in fifth grade.  Thing is, nobody called me Britta which sheds light onto why I was signing my own yearbook in the first place.  Nothing like a nickname that is always a little sting of humilation.)

Also, I want to tell you the best nickname I have ever heard.  It belonged to a dishwasher I worked with almost 7 years ago.  His name was Cool Breeze.  And man, if anybody was ever a cool breeze, well, Cool Breeze was the one.