Nikki Geology was a classmate of mine freshman year of college in my, well…geology class. We were paired up to make a powerpoint on the four classifications of igneous rocks. I had felsic and intermediate, and she had mafic and ultramafic. To be honest, I always felt like I got screwed over in this deal. Like how different could matric and ultramafic be? The only text I ever sent her was, “Ok, so let’s meet at Starbucks at 5?” To which she replied, “Sounds good!!” Two exclamation points…classic Nikki. We aced the powerpoint and never spoke again, but I saw on Facebook she’s in law school now, so I switched her name to “Nikki Lawfirm.” If I’m ever in prison, you know where my one phone call is going.
Yes, I know the name is pretentious. Erik with a K? Terrible. Screenwriter is a stretch too since he’s just a dude I met in the bathroom at my cousin’s wedding. He told me he was banging two of the bridesmaids, which I thought was a strange response to, “Does your stall have toilet paper?” We had a little drunk small talk and next thing I knew I had a .pdf of his half-hour Western Sci-Fi pilot, Cosmic Rodeo sitting in my email. It’s a very serious melodrama about a bull-rider who is sent to an alternative universe to save neglected, abused horses. I had a lot of questions at first, but once I read it, it surprisingly made complete sense. He had big plans on moving to LA to pitch the pilot, but his job at Trader Joe’s was “holding him back.” I wonder if he ever made it to LA because I need somewhere to crash when I go there to pitch my pilot.
I grew up down the street from the Tinders, so I’ve known Angela since I was a kid. I used to play in a band with her brother Mark Tinder and our other buddy Joey Grinder. Growing up I had a crush on Angela, but she was always too cool for me. We ran into each other in a bar when we were both home from college. She immediately asked me if I liked to “play in the snow.” I thought it was an odd question for the middle of August, but I said, “Yes, I love snow! Remember when we would build igloos as kids and pretend we were Eskimos?” Turns out she meant cocaine. She also took the time to explain to me that “Eskimo” is a derogatory term because it was used by racist, non-native colonizers. Who knew coke heads were so sensitive? I think about contacting her every Indigenous Peoples Day to thank her for opening my eyes…to cocaine.
My Dead Grandpa
This one’s tough because it’s sentimental. Every time I see his name in my phone, I’m reminded that he’s been dead for seven years. I actually changed his name to “Dead Grampy” in my phone two years before he died…I was prepared. To be honest, I never called him when he was alive. I don’t think he even knew he had a cellphone. Seems like one of those things where my Grandma got him a cellphone in case he fell, or got lost somewhere. Ironically, one day he went for a walk, got lost, fell, and died. If anything the phone was weighing him down, since he only weighed like, 80 pounds. Probably threw off his equilibrium. He’ll always be a big part of our family. No seriously, he’s still in our family plan. I steal his updates every year, it’s fantastic. Thanks for the iPhone X, Grampy!
My Dead Ex-Girlfriend
Okay she’s still alive, but…it helps me emotionally. My therapist told me the name change was a good idea because seeing her real name in my phone was causing “serious psychological episodes.” So now when I text her “I miss you” every hour on the hour, it feels like I’m commemorating our past love in spirit, rather than texting a number that has blocked me several times. Plus, she’s married now, so who knows what her new name is anyway? I mean I do, but it took me a while to find out. I had to pay a Private Investigator. Honestly, I’ll probably delete her number soon. I keep it just in case she needs her old Mets hat she left at my place five years ago. I’d have to dig it up, it’s probably buried somewhere. It’s not with her yellow scarf that I keep hanging above my bed.
I have no fucking idea who D-Rock is.