Your screen name?

Uncle Yo said:
When my niece and nephew were learning to talk, the could not pronounce my name “Leo “ correctly. It came out sounding like unka- yo. They are older now and Can say it correctly, they choose not to! So it’s Uncle Yo
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Yo, When I was a tyke my mom called out to my grandfather, "Hey, Dad". I heard it as his name and he became Hey-Dad for the next 35 years to his kids and grand kids. Now with 4 grand kids I'm asked what name do I want, I say let the kids come up with something interesting.
 
Pink_Vapor said:
Yo, When I was a tyke my mom called out to my grandfather, "Hey, Dad". I heard it as his name and he became Hey-Dad for the next 35 years to his kids and grand kids. Now with 4 grand kids I'm asked what name do I want, I say let the kids come up with something interesting.
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My great aunts grandkids...my cousins of some kind, I guess lol...anyway, they called her Bye-Bye for much the same reasons lol
 
I just read through this and I'm bringing it BTTT just because I think it's one of the best threads ever and hope more folks will post up.
There are so many interesting facts about yourselves and ideas that you've used to come up with your screen names.
Wished I had put more thought into mine. I couldn't come up with anything. So while waiting on the Keurig to make me a cup a java I was looking out the window at the tailgate of my truck and saw the svtf150 emblem and I decided that was good as any.
Later on I came up with one that was lots more original with a little bit of back story, and almost requested it be changed but I never did.

I only clicked the like button on one post, #176 'cause that was just funny as all to me but trust me I liked them all.
Thanks @Jeppo for starting this thread.
 
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Mine is just part of my last name, which I've been called since high school. It's taken a lot, so the added 454 is for the big block Chevrolet because I'm a gear head.
 
kcult said:
Leslie, isn't it?
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I like Leslie, cause different and not common. According to my brother my mom wanted to name me Leslie but my father said "you name him that and we'll leave his azz here." Dernit, I coulda been Les, like two of my musical heroes, Les Claypool and Les Dudek. And sometimes, Les is more!:cool:
 
Oh boy. I usually don't talk about such things without a drink in my hand.

My senior year of high school I had earned the moniker of Bill "The Thrill" Hill.

Sounds maybe kinda maybe cool right?

Let's back up a bit.

First off, my real last name really is Hill. But my first name is not Bill or even William. My parents weren't quite that mean. (Although supposedly in a somewhat rare argument lost to my mother, my father had wanted to name me Bunker, which would have been pretty cool).

Bill (or Bill Hill) was a nickname that developed over the course of middle school and early high school (story is too long to tell here) and it stuck really hard. The vast majority of folks who know me do not know my real first name. No sneaky covert reason. Just the way it is.

I was a skinny little fella my first two years of high school.

I weighed 130 pounds my freshman year and 135 pounds my sophomore year. Ran cross country those 2 years and the mile and half mile in track. Wasn't any good, but it was something to do. Didn't do much of anything (but eat and hit my growth spurt I guess) my junior year except take weightlifting as an elective class (thank goodness). When I started my senior year I weighed 230 pounds and looked somewhat buff.

So I went and asked the head football coach if I should play football. Even though I could tell he didn't like me (we had some uncomfortable history together from when I wrote for the school paper) he said that would be a good idea. We were a small school and there weren't many good sized players on our team. Small but fast (10-0 record that year in regular season). I think there were only two fellas bigger than I was. So even though I had never played before I was a senior and kinda big so I was on the varsity squad. I imagine he was thinking I would be a good body to have on the sideline/roster and practice squad if nothing else.

Before I go any farther, I should probably mention that I had never even watched a football game on tv nevertheless in real life. I didn't know much about it at all. We weren't a sports family. We were really poor in a worldly sense. I played in the woods a lot and hunted and fished with my friends. Back then a library card was 5 cents so I borrowed a lot of books when we went to town. I read a lot. Mostly fantasy and some sci-fi, military action fluff like Clancy, lot of Stephen King when I needed a break. But odds are if I was not in the woods shooting or hunting I was reading and most likely there were dragons involved and certainly wizards. I played a lot of Dungeons and Dragons with my friends. Nerdy kids out in the country were few and far in between but there were enough of us to manage. I was the kid who brought in all kinds of extra books from home when we started reading the Hobbit in my freshman English class. My copy of the Middle Earth Bestiary, Tolkien Artwork books, The Silmiarillion, Encyclopedia of Middle Earth, etc.

I was proud of owning those books and wanted to share my enthusiasm with the class.

When you weigh 130 pounds and all of a sudden you think you are such a big nerd that you might get beat up by the "louder" kids in your freshman Honors English class it really brings into clarity your true place in the pecking order.

So now I am on the football team. Offensive line, right tackle. We practice all summer. I memorize the plays inside and out. Our Line Coach was my psychology/sociology teacher. I liked and respected him a great deal. One of my favorite teachers. Pretty sure he and the head coach despised each other just as much as the head coach disliked me.

First game, I didn't get to play and we won but only by maybe 10 points or so. It was an away game.

Second game was at home. A few minutes into the first quarter and I'm still on the sidelines.

Then the crowd starts chanting. I see the head coach getting agitated but I still can't exactly make out what the crowds repeating.

Then I hear it.

We Want Bill

We Want Bill

We Want Bill

WE WANT BILL
WE WANT BILL
WE WANT BILL!!

Over and over again. At this point the entire bleacher area and folks leaning on the fence were shouting it. It was almost deafening. (Later I found out that it was started by the Assistant Librarian and her husband, my English teacher, a handful of my friends, and the band. I think two thirds of the parents and fans and probably even some of the students had no idea who I was or what they were chanting for.) Kinda sounds like a rock star moment but I was thoroughly embarrassed and I could see the head coach turning darker shades of red with every second that went by.

The coach finally let out a long string of expletives that indicated he wanted me to enter the game so he could hear himself think again.

Well, I go in.

I get down in my three point stance.

The defender in front of me moves over a little so I move over a little too so I can be squared up on him. Hardly noticeable to most folks, maybe a 4 inch shift.

Referee blows the whistle. 5 yard penalty. We go back to the huddle. Quarterback asks who was offsides. Nobody knows so he just calls the same play.

I get down in my 3 point stance again. Defender moves again. So do I. Another 5 yard penalty. This time they figure out it is me and tell me what I am doing wrong.



See, here's the thing. I knew the plays inside out. And they all assumed someone my age and size would know the rudimentary, most basic rules of football. Most of the other players had played jayvee or even younger. And we didn't talk about those little basic rules in practice. We focused on play execution.

I knew the plays but I had no idea what a lot of the rules were.


So I get down in my 3 point stance for a 3rd attempt to run this play.

I now knew not to move after I got down so no problem there.

This was a "pull" play. Once the ball was hiked, instead of blocking, myself and the right guard would run behind the line over to the left side guard and tackle so the 4 of us could bust through the line and the running back would have 4 initial blockers instead of two.

I was finally in my first real play. I was full of adrenaline. I'm so excited I was an offensive tackle who was running just two or three steps behind the running back.

It looked somewhat psychotic on film the next Monday.

But then this guy from the other team comes running over like he wants to tackle our guy who is running with the ball.

SO what did I do? I didn't hit him. I straight up ran him down and tackled him. The guy without the ball.

That damn whistle blew again. Touchdown didn't count.

I got THREE penalties on one hike of the football!

That may still be a record at that school.

Head Coach was apoplectic.

My Line Coach who liked me and didn't get along with the head coach was on the sidelines laughing his butt off.

Oddly enough the head coach left me in for the rest of that game. I didn't get anymore penalties. I looked insanely good on the rest of the film. I was all over the place hitting people (once they explained I couldn't tackle someone without a ball in their hands). Sent one guy to the hospital. It was glorious for the nerdy D&D kid from the woods that had to buy a used pair of cleats from one of the other guys from town.

So from then on, in class or walking down the hall, I would hear my line coach/psychology teacher yell "Bill the thrill Hill" at the top of his lungs. He said it was one of the greatest thrills of his life watching the head coach almost have a heart attack that night. The rest of the school picked up on it and I was henceforth referred to as "Thrill Hill" or "Thriller" by and large.

A very attractive cheerleader walked me to the film room on Monday. All of a sudden I was a thing.

Well, "Thrill Hill" was anyway, it really didn't feel like I was the one doing and experiencing those things.

As the season progressed I feel like I grew into my nickname (on the field anyway). I went from pretty much loosing every fight I had been in most of my life to being able to knock the shit out of people and be applauded for it. I'll say one thing for getting my ass kicked most of my life up until that point. There was no pain I was afraid to inflict on myself and the other guy to get the job done. From that point forward I never lost a fight again. Girls (especially the freshman and sophomore girls who never knew me as the nerdy wizard book guy) took offense when I didn't ask them out. In all reality, despite my newfound "popularity" I still didn't know what I was doing and was scared to death to ask any of those girls out.

I got over it though.

In high school I got to be the nerd and then the jock and a few other things in between. That's what my screen name is to me. It's kinda funny, and kinda nostalgic for me, but it mostly reminds me of my progression back then which was certainly NOT linear.

My adult life has pretty much followed a similar trajectory.

I may not know what the hell I'm doing, but if you give me a chance I can figure it out, and may even be really good at it.

That is what "thrillhill" is all about.

It's who I am and it's what I am.
 
thrillhill said:
my father had wanted to name me Bunker, which would have been pretty cool
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I worked with a guy who was named "Bunker Hill." He was a nerd and an ass. Guess he never had his moment(s) in high school!

Otherwise: you get a medal for one of the longest-winded posts on the forum!
 
thrillhill said:
I may not know what the hell I'm doing, but if you give me a chance I can figure it out, and may even be really good at it.

That is what "thrillhill" is all about.

It's who I am and it's what I am.
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That's awesome!
 
9outof10mms said:
I worked with a guy who was named "Bunker Hill." He was a nerd and an ass. Guess he never had his moment(s) in high school!

Otherwise: you get a medal for one of the longest-winded posts on the forum!
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I was scrolling up waiting to see who posted all that on tapatalk and thought to my self, dang, Tans is back already. Lol


Sent from my iPhone using Tapatalk
 
Howland said:
There's a market for those on the Dark Web, but I would strongly advise against a F2F sale. Some people you just don't want to meet. Just don't wash them beforehand, it'll wipe out the value.

My screen name is an ancestor who immigrated on the Mayflower, John Howland. He had the distinct misfortune to fall overboard and managed to grab onto a line they trailed behind them as a last hope for anyone so unfortunate and climbed back aboard. It's a miracle that I even exist.
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Howland was the owl in the Pogo comic strip. If you want an alternate avatar, you could use him.
5129229-howlandowl.jpg
 
My wife wanted to name our son "Peter".

I shot that down with a hearty high-ho "NO!" and a frosty stare to cement it.

Last name? Moss.

Not. Gonna. Happen.
 
RetiredUSNChief said:
My wife wanted to name our son "Peter".

I shot that down with a hearty high-ho "NO!" and a frosty stare to cement it.

Last name? Moss.

Not. Gonna. Happen.
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LOL. My family last name is Beaver.
I have and Uncle Richard. Goes by Dick.
He married a woman named Ivanna.
They have children. Harry and Anita.
No joke.
 
I used to work at a couple of coffee roasting plants . I would drink 10-12 pints of strong black coffee by noon. I remember going to the doctor for a physical once and he asked me how much coffee I drank . I told him about half a gallon a day . He told me it was the first time he had anyone express how much coffee they drank in percentages of a gallon. I'm like" what, I cut back ".
 
wired said:
I used to work at a couple of coffee roasting plants . I would drink 10-12 pints of strong black coffee by noon. I remember going to the doctor for a physical once and he asked me how much coffee I drank . I told him about half a gallon a day . He told me it was the first time he had anyone express how much coffee they drank in percentages of a gallon. I'm like" what, I cut back ".
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Ten to twelve pints is five to six quarts, or 1-1/4 to 1-1/2 gallons. And did you stop drinking coffee at noon?

My ex used to drink pot after pot of coffee. All day long. It was unthinkable for her to not brew a pot so she could have one more cup before bedtime. She couldn't understand why she had splitting migraine headaches most days.
 
Howland said:
Ten to twelve pints is five to six quarts, or 1-1/4 to 1-1/2 gallons. And did you stop drinking coffee at noon?

My ex used to drink pot after pot of coffee. All day long. It was unthinkable for her to not brew a pot so she could have one more cup before bedtime. She couldn't understand why she had splitting migraine headaches most days.
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Like I told the doctor I had cut back significantly by that point. Yeah I would drink coffee until my chest hurt which was usually about noon. Strong black light Columbian roast. I was working for Seattles Best Coffee on Vashon Island out in Puget Sound and had to take a ferry in to work every day. My return trip was at 3PM and I would often get on the ferry and flat pass out in my car and someone would invariably have to honk their horn to wake me up to get off the ferry.

I improved my lifestyle after that place shut down.
 
wired said:
Like I told the doctor I had cut back significantly by that point. Yeah I would drink coffee until my chest hurt which was usually about noon. Strong black light Columbian roast. I was working for Seattles Best Coffee on Vashon Island out in Puget Sound and had to take a ferry in to work every day. My return trip was at 3PM and I would often get on the ferry and flat pass out in my car and someone would invariably have to honk their horn to wake me up to get off the ferry.

I improved my lifestyle after that place shut down.
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Seattle’s Best is my favorite big brew company. But I was disheartened to learn this week that they’re owned by Starbucks.

We went to the Seattle area last August for a trip. Best coffee I had was at Whidbey Island Bagel Factory. Small place just outside of Clinton after you get off the Mukilteo ferry.
 
9outof10mms said:
Seattle’s Best is my favorite big brew company. But I was disheartened to learn this week that they’re owned by Starbucks.

We went to the Seattle area last August for a trip. Best coffee I had was at Whidbey Island Bagel Factory. Small place just outside of Clinton after you get off the Mukilteo ferry.
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Not owned by Starbucks. They are Starbucks. Starbucks bought the brands 15 + years ago and shut the SBC roasting plant down. They still make some of the brands from their Kent ( and others ) roasting plant . The plant closure put me out of work as I was unwilling to work for that corporate goat lover organization. Big Mean Green aka The Evil Empire. I won't set foot in a Starbucks. Years later I took a job with another coffee company just so I could help put a little financial pain unto Starbucks and my boss the VP of operations got replaced by a new VP from Starbucks. We did NOT get along. I remember when she first started there she asked me into her office and asked me what her biggest challenge was going to be. " Listen, I know those guys at the corporate office. I play cards with them , they drink my tequila and I drink their whiskey and I smoke their cigars. Ive been out fishing on the CEO's yacht . Its a boys club. They are not going to let you in." If she could have stabbed me in the face right then and there she would have. It went downhill from there and within a year I left to take an engineering position elsewhere. As soon as I left their production tanked, all their operators quit , they lost major contracts and she got fired along with the plant manager and all the douchebags she lured over from Starbucks to run the place.
 
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wired said:
Not owned by Starbucks. They are Starbucks. Starbucks bought the brands 15 + years ago and shut the SBC roasting plant down. They still make some of the brands from their Kent ( and others ) roasting plant . The plant closure put me out of work as I was unwilling to work for that corporate goat lover organization. Big Mean Green aka The Evil Empire. I won't set foot in a Starbucks. Years later I took a job with another coffee company just so I could help put a little financial pain unto Starbucks and my boss the VP of operations got replaced by a new VP from Starbucks. We did NOT get along. I remember when she first started there she asked me into her office and asked me what her biggest challenge was going to be. " Listen, I know those guys at the corporate office. I play cards with them , they drink my tequila and I drink their whiskey and I smoke their cigars. Ive been out fishing on the CEO's yacht . Its a boys club. They are not going to let you in." If she could have stabbed me in the face right then and there she would have. It went downhill from there and within a year I left to take an engineering position elsewhere. As soon as I left their production tanked, all their operators quit , they lost major contracts and she got fired along with the plant manager and all the douchebags she lured over from Starbucks to run the place.
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Well that sucks.

I don’t hate Starbucks, but I’m certainly no fanboy. I might have a mocha frap once or twice a year when they’re in the hotel lobby that I’m staying at. It did kill a little piece of me to see the Starbucks name on the box of Seattle’s Best K-cups I was opening the other day.

If I could figure out how to make coffee like that bagel shop, I’d drink it by the gallon.
 
thrillhill said:
Oh boy. I usually don't talk about such things without a drink in my hand.

My senior year of high school I had earned the moniker of Bill "The Thrill" Hill.

Sounds maybe kinda maybe cool right?

Let's back up a bit.

First off, my real last name really is Hill. But my first name is not Bill or even William. My parents weren't quite that mean. (Although supposedly in a somewhat rare argument lost to my mother, my father had wanted to name me Bunker, which would have been pretty cool).

Bill (or Bill Hill) was a nickname that developed over the course of middle school and early high school (story is too long to tell here) and it stuck really hard. The vast majority of folks who know me do not know my real first name. No sneaky covert reason. Just the way it is.

I was a skinny little fella my first two years of high school.

I weighed 130 pounds my freshman year and 135 pounds my sophomore year. Ran cross country those 2 years and the mile and half mile in track. Wasn't any good, but it was something to do. Didn't do much of anything (but eat and hit my growth spurt I guess) my junior year except take weightlifting as an elective class (thank goodness). When I started my senior year I weighed 230 pounds and looked somewhat buff.

So I went and asked the head football coach if I should play football. Even though I could tell he didn't like me (we had some uncomfortable history together from when I wrote for the school paper) he said that would be a good idea. We were a small school and there weren't many good sized players on our team. Small but fast (10-0 record that year in regular season). I think there were only two fellas bigger than I was. So even though I had never played before I was a senior and kinda big so I was on the varsity squad. I imagine he was thinking I would be a good body to have on the sideline/roster and practice squad if nothing else.

Before I go any farther, I should probably mention that I had never even watched a football game on tv nevertheless in real life. I didn't know much about it at all. We weren't a sports family. We were really poor in a worldly sense. I played in the woods a lot and hunted and fished with my friends. Back then a library card was 5 cents so I borrowed a lot of books when we went to town. I read a lot. Mostly fantasy and some sci-fi, military action fluff like Clancy, lot of Stephen King when I needed a break. But odds are if I was not in the woods shooting or hunting I was reading and most likely there were dragons involved and certainly wizards. I played a lot of Dungeons and Dragons with my friends. Nerdy kids out in the country were few and far in between but there were enough of us to manage. I was the kid who brought in all kinds of extra books from home when we started reading the Hobbit in my freshman English class. My copy of the Middle Earth Bestiary, Tolkien Artwork books, The Silmiarillion, Encyclopedia of Middle Earth, etc.

I was proud of owning those books and wanted to share my enthusiasm with the class.

When you weigh 130 pounds and all of a sudden you think you are such a big nerd that you might get beat up by the "louder" kids in your freshman Honors English class it really brings into clarity your true place in the pecking order.

So now I am on the football team. Offensive line, right tackle. We practice all summer. I memorize the plays inside and out. Our Line Coach was my psychology/sociology teacher. I liked and respected him a great deal. One of my favorite teachers. Pretty sure he and the head coach despised each other just as much as the head coach disliked me.

First game, I didn't get to play and we won but only by maybe 10 points or so. It was an away game.

Second game was at home. A few minutes into the first quarter and I'm still on the sidelines.

Then the crowd starts chanting. I see the head coach getting agitated but I still can't exactly make out what the crowds repeating.

Then I hear it.

We Want Bill

We Want Bill

We Want Bill

WE WANT BILL
WE WANT BILL
WE WANT BILL!!

Over and over again. At this point the entire bleacher area and folks leaning on the fence were shouting it. It was almost deafening. (Later I found out that it was started by the Assistant Librarian and her husband, my English teacher, a handful of my friends, and the band. I think two thirds of the parents and fans and probably even some of the students had no idea who I was or what they were chanting for.) Kinda sounds like a rock star moment but I was thoroughly embarrassed and I could see the head coach turning darker shades of red with every second that went by.

The coach finally let out a long string of expletives that indicated he wanted me to enter the game so he could hear himself think again.

Well, I go in.

I get down in my three point stance.

The defender in front of me moves over a little so I move over a little too so I can be squared up on him. Hardly noticeable to most folks, maybe a 4 inch shift.

Referee blows the whistle. 5 yard penalty. We go back to the huddle. Quarterback asks who was offsides. Nobody knows so he just calls the same play.

I get down in my 3 point stance again. Defender moves again. So do I. Another 5 yard penalty. This time they figure out it is me and tell me what I am doing wrong.



See, here's the thing. I knew the plays inside out. And they all assumed someone my age and size would know the rudimentary, most basic rules of football. Most of the other players had played jayvee or even younger. And we didn't talk about those little basic rules in practice. We focused on play execution.

I knew the plays but I had no idea what a lot of the rules were.


So I get down in my 3 point stance for a 3rd attempt to run this play.

I now knew not to move after I got down so no problem there.

This was a "pull" play. Once the ball was hiked, instead of blocking, myself and the right guard would run behind the line over to the left side guard and tackle so the 4 of us could bust through the line and the running back would have 4 initial blockers instead of two.

I was finally in my first real play. I was full of adrenaline. I'm so excited I was an offensive tackle who was running just two or three steps behind the running back.

It looked somewhat psychotic on film the next Monday.

But then this guy from the other team comes running over like he wants to tackle our guy who is running with the ball.

SO what did I do? I didn't hit him. I straight up ran him down and tackled him. The guy without the ball.

That damn whistle blew again. Touchdown didn't count.

I got THREE penalties on one hike of the football!

That may still be a record at that school.

Head Coach was apoplectic.

My Line Coach who liked me and didn't get along with the head coach was on the sidelines laughing his butt off.

Oddly enough the head coach left me in for the rest of that game. I didn't get anymore penalties. I looked insanely good on the rest of the film. I was all over the place hitting people (once they explained I couldn't tackle someone with a ball in their hands). Sent one guy to the hospital. It was glorious for the nerdy D&D kid from the woods that had to buy a used pair of cleats from one of the other guys from town.

So from then on, in class or walking down the hall, I would hear my line coach/psychology teacher yell "Bill the thrill Hill" at the top of his lungs. He said it was one of the greatest thrills of his life watching the head coach almost have a heart attack that night. The rest of the school picked up on it and I was henceforth referred to as "Thrill Hill" or "Thriller" by and large.

A very attractive cheerleader walked me to the film room on Monday. All of a sudden I was a thing.

Well, "Thrill Hill" was anyway, it really didn't feel like I was the one doing and experiencing those things.

As the season progressed I feel like I grew into my nickname (on the field anyway). I went from pretty much loosing every fight I had been in most of my life to being able to knock the shit out of people and be applauded for it. I'll say one thing for getting my ass kicked most of my life up until that point. There was no pain I was afraid to inflict on myself and the other guy to get the job done. From that point forward I never lost a fight again. Girls (especially the freshman and sophomore girls who never knew me as the nerdy wizard book guy) took offense when I didn't ask them out. In all reality, despite my newfound "popularity" I still didn't know what I was doing and was scared to death to ask any of those girls out.

I got over it though.

In high school I got to be the nerd and then the jock and a few other things in between. That's what my screen name is to me. It's kinda funny, and kinda nostalgic for me, but it mostly reminds me of my progression back then which was certainly NOT linear.

My adult life has pretty much followed a similar trajectory.

I may not know what the hell I'm doing, but if you give me a chance I can figure it out, and may even be really good at it.

That is what "thrillhill" is all about.

It's who I am and it's what I am.
Click to expand...

How did I miss this thread. I loved it.
 
My initials. DUH! :p

Back to @Jeppo 's comments about working in China, I worked in Japan for several months back in '91. I asked the folks I worked with how they would pronounce my name, Keith, in Japanese. One of the guys said "-Kissu (KISS),....like the rock band". I was good with that.
 
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Heard the term on Outer Banks….thought it fit nicely with my bank account balance.
 
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