Flounder.

Dudes.
Last summer was so different.
I don't know why this is so hard to deal with.
Move on, right?
Nothing to see here.

You know what? I got me a nickname.
I didn't ask for it but what happened was one day, a long time ago now, I came into the office to put the paper work in the basket and this dude Carlos comes up behind me and says to everyone that I need a nickname. He says this like he had been thinking about it for a while. So he says that he is giving me the nickname of Flounder.
Flounder.
And G D it, that F'ing nickname stuck.
It still sticks.
To this day.
You can't ever call me that nickname.
Unless you live in Brooklyn.

What is nice about it is that it is an instant identifier about who the person is that is calling me Flounder. I know, immediately, that the person knows who I am and I know how they know who I am, and this is amazing to me because I never thought I was going to stick it out here in Brooklyn anyways.

But look how it all paid off in the end!

Well anyways, it is very endearing and I appreciate it more than I let on.

So the lesson here is that if you find ourself in a foreign land, you better hope no one gives you an endearing nickname because that means you are going to have to live there for a long time to soak it all up.

P.S. I love this tag. I see it around, but this one was especially perfect, in my opinion.