New Nickname

Yoo-Hoo.  Shorty.  Schmecca.  Meccalizer.  Tiny dancer.  I’ve had a wide variety of nicknames in my 25 years.  I can now add another one to the list:

PPH girl.

You know what that stands for?  Pesto-Parmesan Ham Girl.  You know who gave me that nickname?  The deli employees of Mollie Stone’s.

Full disclosure: I like pesto-parmesan ham.  I order a quarter pound of it pretty much every week.  I use it to make sandwiches and omelets and ham and cheese quesadillas.   And, sure, maybe it has been a few…months…since I have gotten any other deli meat.  But there are always different servers, so it didn’t even occur to me that anyone would notice.

Well, apparently, deli people talk.  And, also apparently, I am the only person who consistently orders pesto-parmesan ham.   Hence the nickname, “Pesto-Parmesan Ham Girl” (or PPH, for the cool kids).  In fact, the man who served me tonight told me that there was a bet going as to if PPH would finish the entire slab of meat all on her own (and how long it would take her to do so) — he could have been kidding, but I’m not so sure.

Of course, he told me this as he was slicing me a quarter pound of…what else…pesto-parmesan ham.  I felt compelled to buy something else at the deli counter just to prove that I couldn’t be pigeonholed that easily.  So, right now, I am staring at a container of salmon covered with mango salsa.  You know what that mango salsa has in it?  Cilantro.  Foiled again.

It alarms me that my life has become so routine that the local deli has a nickname for me.  It alarms me more that my inner-competitiveness is driving me to continue to order pesto-parmesan ham until I finish the whole slab (just to prove that I can).

Written by lindsay in: The Ridiculous | Tags: ,

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