Embarrassing things usually happen to me all the time. But since I started this thing on November the oneth, things have been very tame. Fortunately, I have a lifetime of shame to delve into for material...
When I was about eight or so, my great-grandmother gave me a book about beavers that was written and autographed by a good friend of hers. I really enjoyed the book and around the same time my father succumbed to the CB radio frenzy that gripped portions of America following the success of the movie "Smokey and the Bandit." My father and his friends used it primarily so that my father could travel in a separate vehicle and still communicate with his friends while they were in turn safe from his near-lethal flatulence. Having acquired the CB radio, my father asked me what I would like my handle to be. And because I enjoyed the book my great-grandmother had given me so much, I chose the handle "Little Beaver."
I was tremendously popular with the truckers for the 24-hour period that my father allowed me to keep said handle. "Hey there, Little Beaver..." greeted us just a few too many times for my father's comfort and he apparently indicated to my mother that she needed to speak with me about finding a different nickname. I don't remember what she told me or what my handle was changed to, but I do remember not being allowed to talk on the CB much after that.
Several years later, my elementary school music teacher decided it would be a good idea for all of us in her class to have musical nicknames. Yes, terribly exciting. She suggested that those of us who played a musical instrument might want to consider a name that reflected the instrument we played. I had recently started taking alto saxophone lessons and since my name is Amy Jo, I settled on the woodwind-inspired, "Blow Jo."
I'm not really sure whether I was encouraged to change that one or not. But I did have a slight upsurge in popularity with some of the boys soon after and I'm not convinced it was wholly coincidental!