It's a crazy idea . . . but it just might work!

I’ve been thinking I’m going to start calling myself Lucky. I know it’s kind of pretentious to give yourself a nickname (see any cast member on the Jersey Shore for evidence). And given that a lightning strike took out my TV, my cable box and my fake fireplace, and possibly a ceiling fan (the jury is still out on that one), and I’m 41 years old and still haven’t gotten my life figured out yet, “lucky” may not exactly be the right word.

But I have a friend who knew a woman who referred to herself as “Pretty Helen.” How’s that for ballsy? As in, “I said to myself, “Pretty Helen” . . .” Bananas? Possibly. But I don’t even know this woman, and I think of her as Pretty Helen, so obviously it worked.

I don’t know, I could use a little karmic change. Something to put that positive vibe out there. See it, be it. How many people do I know that seem to fall in to manure and come out smelling like a rose, just because they think that’s what should happen. And also, I’ve been totally obsessed with lucky charms lately. Show me anything with a 4-leaf clover, horseshoe, wish bone, or anything remotely lucky on it, and I’m buying it. Do I really need an 8th green t-shirt? No. But it’s got a shamrock on it!

Now, I’m not really sure how one goes about giving oneself a nickname. Other than walking around saying things like “I said to myself, Lucky . . . I call myself, Lucky.” Which is, yeah, bananas. Maybe join a sports team so that I can get “LUCKY” on the back of my shirt. Too bad I didn’t think of this before I started ushering at the Performing Arts Center. I coulda scored a name tag and thousands of strangers who would think that really was my name.