This isn’t how it’s supposed to work. You’re supposed to earn your nickname, or at least fall into it. Stuff like 3D Waffle, Chocolate Thunder or Onion King. Sports guys have them, like Chi Chi Rodriguez, Nails (Lenny Dykstra) and Rich Garces, also known as El Guapo.
Me? In junior high, I called myself Daddy Cool.
I wasn’t even a daddy. And I probably wasn’t very cool. Although, I had a lot of hair. And wore cowboy boots to school. And had a mustache. Yeah, definitely wasn’t very cool. In fact, I’m much cooler now, with less hair, and without a mustache. Now, I’m Daddy Cool.
Ponies. Clowns. Singing mice. That used to be enough. Now, we rent out restaurants. Create horse-riding adventures. Rent bounce houses and cotton-candy machines and maybe even boy bands.
Every year becomes a practice in topping what we did last year. Or what the last kid did.
You served hot dogs and had Lady Gaga sing for your kid’s party? Well, we’ll get Ke$ha and serve pizza. Deep.dish. The Party of the Year can have a few gems on the editing room floor. Some doozies on the “not quite list.”