trim the fat.

While watching last week's episode of Lost (not this week's, mind you, as it is on right now and I'll patiently download it tomorrow, thank you very much), I found myself wondering why Sawyer is my favorite character. Granted, Josh Holloway is a rugged stone fox, but there's also that whole "tortured soul that won't let anyone close" schtick that he's got going for him, too (although, that sums up Jack and Kate in a nutshell, as well). What I realized, however, is that I identify with the fact that he refers to everyone by nicknames (I also noted this literally seconds before Sun made a bet with Sawyer, the stakes being that if he lost he wouldn't be able to call anyone a nickname). Freckles, Doc, Snuffleupagus and Grimace... He referred to the Korean couple as Crouching Tiger and Hidden Dragon in this episode. My Lost-watching companion cried "Rah-ceest!" while I just laughed my ass off. The thing is, I do the same thing. With the exception of my family and people that I work with, everyone in my life has an alternate moniker that I use to label them. Segal/Veins, Arty, LT, Mar, jbin, Cuban-B, etc. (Yes, I'm counting last names as nicknames). Even people that I'm not super tight with (Parks, D-Nyce, Enthusiastic Matt) get these unique handles. I'm not necessarily the one who comes up with them, but I'll pick up on their usage in an instant and perpetuate it. When discussing "romantic" endeavors, aforementioned Lost companion and I refer to people, even though we know their names, by distinguishing characteristics: "The Hippie," "The Twin," "The Coke-head," and so-on and so-forth. I suppose there are just far too many Jennifers, Jasons, Heathers and Ryans in this world to keep them all straight, so the idiosyncratic nomenclature comes in to play.