My name isn’t the easiest to figure out for a lot of people.  My entire childhood was spent correcting my teachers’ pronunciation when they did roll call.  If I got lucky, they would just call me by my last name because it was easy.  But that was mostly gym teachers and it usually went like this “Stewart! What in tarnation are you doing over there?  Basketballs should NOT hit you in the face every time you dribble!  And you can’t grab ahold of the ball and run screaming from the person behind you, that’s travelling!  What in the …, never mind, just sit out for a minute, will you?”

Then that brat Alyssa Milano showed up on Who’s the Boss and all of a sudden everyone was wondering why my name didn’t have the fancy “y” in the middle and when I got a training bra did it happen exactly like on the show?  Just to prove a point I made sure my chest never developed whatsoever because I’m a leader not a follower, duh.  I mean really, Alyssa, is all of that really necessary?  Seems a little selfish is all I’m saying.

Because of the complexity and challenge of pronouncing my first name, I’ve acquired a lot of nicknames through the years.  Some of them are quite endearing, others make me want to punch people in the face.  I like to be a little mysterious, so I’ll let you decide which ones I like and which ones I don’t, and then the next time I see you we can play a little game of Nickname Sucker Punch Roulette.  Isn’t life fun?

Alissa’s Super Fancy Highly Specific Nickname List

The Childhood Years (In no particular order)

1. Aliss

2. Liss

3.  Lissa

4.  Lissy

5.  Lissy Lou

6.  Lou

7.  Alice

8.  Melissa

9.  Alicia

10.  Sewer Face

11.  Stewy

12.  Al

13.  Blondie

14.  Lefty

15.  Retainer Head

16.  Lou Lou

17.  Frowny

18.  Wart

19.  Grace

20.  Trippy

21.  Yellow Eyes

22. Sunshine

23.  Louie Lou

And add to this the extra special names I’ve acquired in adulthood:

1.  A-Bomb

2. Razzle Dazzle

3. Allllissssssssssa

4.  Wazowski

5.  Rachowski


7. Crash

8.  Allison

9. Razzy

10.  Racy

11. Fancy

12. Bruiser

13. Stompie

14.  A+

15. A Type

16.  Sporty Spice

People get my first name wrong so often that long ago I stopped trying to fix it, which has resulted in a couple of regular clients calling me by the wrong name for over 10 years.  The awesome part is my close friends get pretty riled up when my name is mispronounced and they always make sure to correct people and then look at me and roll their eyes while I shrug my shoulders because I’m just fine answering to pretty much whatever anyone wants to call me.  Except Dishwater Blonde or Airhead.  Don’t ever call me that.  I mean it.

And then there’s the last name.  Don’t even get me started.  If someone asks me my last name I just tell them not to worry about.  But that’s a pretty big problem in my job because of documentation issues so when they ask, I tell them to settle in for about 10 minutes and have a pen and paper handy.  Then the conversation goes like this “Okay, you’ve got your pen?  Right. Okay.  It’s R-A-C as in cat, Z as in zebra…” Then whoever I’m talking to does a mental WTH and asks me to spell it about a zillion more times, asks what nationality it is, asks how to pronounce it, asks what my maiden name was and declares I must REALLY love my husband to take on a name like that and then laughs like it must be the first time I’ve ever heard all of this.  Real cute.

And the telemarketers.  Wow.

“Hello!  May I please speak with Alisalkdie Raczlsbe8aldu91?” 

“Who? Speak slower please.”

“Sorry, ma’am!  I’m calling for Aaaaallleeeeiiiissshaaahhh Raaaccckkkzzzeeeecowwwwski?”

“Hmm.  Who was that again?”

“Yes, please and thank you, may I please speak with Alissson Racyzychawski?”


“YES! Is she available?”

“Well, to be sure, could you give me that last name again?”


“Excuse me?”




“Sorry, the first name one more time?”




“Try again.”

“Al.  Ally.  Alexson!”

“So let me get this straight. You’re looking for Alex Son Rice-a-Roni?”

“YES!  I have a very important offer for her.”

“Alex is a boy.  He wouldn’t like you calling him a girl.”

“Pardon me! So sorry.  Is Mr. Alex available?”


“Do you know when he might be home?”

“I’m not sure because there’s no Alex here.” Click.


Now E thinks he’s REAL funny because he’s come up with a new one for me.  I’ve been trying to ignore him and not buy into his sophomoric attempts at comedic talent but I have to admit, it’s kind of genius.  I mean it really describes me well.  Not the part of me that is graceful and stylish and brilliant and well-mannered and methodic about keeping everything I own nice and brand-new looking.  Because OBVIOUSLY this is how I live my life.

I’m talking about the part of me that ON RARE OCCASIONS crashes every car I own, falls and trips over nothing, drops everything that has an Apple logo on it, runs into everything as if it’s a target, falls off bikes, breaks items trying to tear open packaging, says the wrong thing at the wrong time, laughs when laughing is inappropriate and generally causes unnecessary chaos.

You know, acting in a reckless manner.

Wrecking everything I come into contact with.

I’m Wreckliss.

Don’t tell him I said this but it’s pretty badass.  Kind of like a villain in a comic book.

Now if you’ll excuse me, I need to go design my evil super power costume that destroys everything in sight.

But first I need to find a sturdy foundation garment to wear underneath. Now where might a villain find a training bra?



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