Welcome to this week’s edition of the Name Game! This time ’round we’re going to be talking about the people we’ve known named James, as well as the most common James nicks: Jim and Jimmy. Let’s leave the Jamies out of it for now. It feels like that one could be a standalone, somewhere down the line.
So, in the comments please tell us about the guys you’ve known with those names. The evil Jimmys, the wonderful Jims, the James that got away… You know, whatever.
I had a friend named Jimmy (later Jim) when I was a kid, and his dad had the same name. My parents were friends with his parents, and we spent a good amount of time together. But we didn’t stay in touch. He was a regular kid. I can’t remember anything unusual about him.
And, one afternoon while I was doing my paper route, I got into a “fight” with a guy from my Jr. High named Jimmy. He shoved me, I hit him in the jaw, and that was where it ended. He said, in a nasally Ernest T. Bass voice, “I’m gonna git you, boy,” and nothing else happened. He’s dead now. I think his liver finally said fukkit.
Also, when I was in Atlanta one of the managers at my job was named Jimmy. He never bothered to shorten it to Jim, probably because he lived in the South and Jimmy is an acceptable adult name down there. He was a nice guy, and I always got along with him. Thick accent, though. I mean… super-Southern. He won $5000 in a radio contest once, I recall. I think he put a wooden fence around his backyard with the money. After I left, he got promoted to the Top Spot, and rode it out until they shut the facility down. I’m not sure what happened to him after that.
And those are my stories. Now it’s your turn. Please use the comments section below.
Thank you guys, for your support and participation!
I’ll see you again tomorrow.
Don’t know a James? How about a Lisa? Or a Mary?
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Yeah first!
My husbands first name is James, although he goes by his middle name Darran. His father is also James, goes by Jimmy. I like him, he’s a pretty good father in law.
Had a friend for a long time named James, but went by Jamey…then all of the sudden he decided he wanted to be James. I never got used to it.
Don’t recall any horrible Jim’s or Jimmy’s over the years….
Got a friend named James, not Jimmy or Jim or JJ, just James. Works on a food truck, likes Mohawk haircuts, barstool blackouts, and being an all around good guy.
If your in the Scranton, PA area, and want good food that you can eat on the street, visit What The Fork food truck! Say Hi to James!
Know many James, Jims and Jimmys.
My youngest son is James, named after my maternal grandfather. Goes by Jimmy and I refer to him sometimes as Jim-Jim or Jim-jams.
Work with 2; one goes by Jim or Jimmy and the other is strictly James.
Do girls count, too? A variation of James. Know a very sweet girl named Jamie.
Went to high school with about a dozen Jims. Some were cool, some were assholes.
Thinking about it, could sit here all day and rattle off all the Jims I know…
James=Pain in the ass.
Jim=Let’s have a beer.
Jimmy=0-10 years old.
James: dog
Jim: dork
Jimmy: redneck
I know piles of Jim’s. Many are asshats, but screw them. I’m sticking to the best of the Jims.
My best friend of 30+ years is a James, but he goes by Jack. He’s my brother in every sense of the word but one. We’re there for each other no matter what, and as I age I find that’s more and more important.
Jack has three kids, as do I. And if anything happens to my wife and I they go to him, because my wife and I are certain to our bones that he (and his wife) will love and care for them like their own.
That’s how great my best friend is.
Next is my dad’s brother, who is also my Godfather, and goes by Jim. It’s what his real name translates to from his original language (we’re a first and second generation American family). The man is a genius with his hands. He and I once built a deck on my folks house. He did all the layout in his head along with the material estimates. We made one trip to the lumber yard and when we were done we had one trashcan full of scrap wood where no piece was over 10″ long. That deck is so solid that it will stand up to anything smaller than a glacier.
In addition to being an awesome builder, he’s a good guy. He was always good to me and my brother and took good care of us when we were little.
I have to believe he’s one of the top 100 Jim’s of the world.
I’ve been lucky to know some high quality Jims.
your best friend of 30+ years sounds like my Mike, named my son Michael after him, same goes for our kids…
Cool….
James was my dad’s name. He only used James for his signature – he went by either Jim or Jimmy. Nicest man ever! And sorely missed.
I have a nephew named James and when he was a kid (the big galoot is 25 years old now) he didn’t like anyone calling him anything except James.
Worked for a wickedly funny guy named Jim.
Friend’s husband is a Jimmy. Threw some roofing work his way and the fucking numb nut went postal screaming for payment before the bill had even been submitted.
I have a friend named James, goes by Ted (middle name) and his Dad is also a James who goes by Jim. Both great guys, a blast to hang out with and have a few beers.
I also have a co-worker named Jim who has the biggest noggin I have ever see. It’s a virtual planetoid and it has it’s own weather system!
OMG Phil, you just reminded me – I know a huge headed Jim, too! Nicest guy but we used to call him Pumpkin Head behind his back.
By any chance, did your Big Head Jim love going to concerts? My BHJ could have been a photographer for Rolling Stone with some of the pictures he took!
I know a Jim with a giant dome too! His head is so big that, when he and my friend were dating, she was legitimately concerned over the idea of having possible children with him — for fear that he’d pass on his incredible giant dome and then she’d have to pass that dome from her nether regions.
My dad’s name is Jim and my aunt’s husband is named Jim as well. So my world has been filled with Jims for as long as I can remember. Both good guys, although they’re practically opposite in every way.
I got kicked in the jimmy once.
Lots of James, and Jims where I work. One in particular is legally James, but he hates that, and only responds to “Jim”. He also hates it if you call him Jimmy. The rest ‘of ’em are relatively normal guys.
My best friend in high school was named James (never Jim) even when he moved house and changed schools we spent every weekend and school holiday at each others houses. He became an actor, went to a “Fame” type school and we lost touch, I’ve seen him once or twice since and he’s still writing scripts and doing plays, hell of a nice guy…I must try and find him again…
Growing up, my Dad was friends with a guy we called Big Jim. He was the fattest person I’d ever seen. I remember one time, we were having a cookout in our backyard. He had to take a break somewhere in the side-yard as he made his way to the cookout. He needed a chair.
Later in life, my Dad had a neighbor that we affectionately called Uncle Jimmy. He is the quintessential Maine redneck. He always has a can of beer in his hand, has singed off his eyebrows by adding jet fuel to a bonfire, and “ayuh” is the most common thing to come out of his mouth. Great guy and funny as hell.
My first wife had the jimmy-legs. She also had a hell of a jimmy-attorney.
jtb
My best friend in first grade was a very clean-cut kid named Jimmy. When we walked home after school, sometimes he would come over to my house and we’d watch Ultraman and other after school shows. One day we were watching The Flintstones, and he turned to me and stated with an air of social consciousness, “The Flintstones are poor people”. I didn’t comment, but I was thinking that even if the Flintstones were real, they seemed to be quite as well-off as their peers.
One day my dad and I were walking in the neighborhood, and we met Jimmy and his dad coming the other way down the sidewalk. I was appalled by the look of Jimmy’s dad, whom I had never seen before. Whereas Jimmy was very neat and clean, his dad was wearing wrinkled, dirty clothes, had a stubbly, scowling face, and was smoking a nasty short fat cigar. I wondered what it would be like to have a dad like that. I felt really lucky, myself.
I know a bunch of great adults named Jimmy… They are always the fun loving types.. Not a bad Jimmy in the lot & I know many Jimmy’s… Jim’s have always seemed to be more tightly wound t me… James? I know plenty of Asshole’s & many decent ones….
Had a good friend Jim growing up throughout school. Good guy. Then there was that Jim Jones guy. Bad koolaid.
I’ve known many Jim’s. An ex-boyfriend of mine had a younger brother, Jimmy. Most of his friends called him “Jimbo”. He was the nicest guy until someone pissed him off. He had a hair trigger temper and would beat the shit out of anyone that did or said the wrong thing. The story goes that as a kid he used to jump up and down on his parent’s bed and hit his head on the ceiling one too many times. And he has never been “right” ever since.
Will the wind ever remember
The names it has blown in the past
And with its crutch, its old age, and its wisdom
It whispers no, this will be the last
I saw a James name on a Coke tonight. I didn’t buy it, even though I owe the dude who runs technology. And his name is James…
I also has a drunkle named Jimmy.
Wait- are we not talking about pubes anymore?
You can’t just change your fucking name and expect me to go along, Jim or Jimmy or James. Pick one. I’m Jason. That’s what it’ll always be. We have a friend named Danielle and it’s pronounced just like it should be (dan-yell) but she recently decided that she wants to be called (duh-nail) and although she’s a sweet girl, I want to slit her throat for thinking it’s okay to just switch it like that.
I know a Jimmy that owns a bar and he seems to be a good dude. But what do I know? He might murder hookers in his spare time.
Eh. I think some names are grown into. I, for instance, was Jenny as a kid. My teen years, I thought Jenny was too young-sounding, so I went by Jen. Then, in college, I finally began going by my real name, Jeannette. My daughter also has a name that we’ve shortened for her as a child…intending for her to go by her real name at some point. I think that’s a pretty standard thing for a person to do, if given a name that allows for it.
Now, changing the pronunciation of your name is just dumb. You can’t do that. You can’t just decide to pronounce a word a different way and expect that it’s okay…same with a name.
I’m a James. Dad is a James also so I have always been Tony (middle name Anthony).
I think I’m awesome. Many people would disagree.
There was a band in Chicago called RD Roth who would seeeeeeriously disagree.
every Jimmy I ever knew as a kid was a little bastard. They were snot nosed, freckle faced shits who delighted in shooting the neighborhood animals with bottle rockets and stealing anything they could get their grubby little fingers on.
Odd. Every Jim/James I’ve known as an adult has been gracious and kind. Even my ex was a swell guy. He would give the shirt off his back and do anything to help anybody. He was a hard worker and great in bed.
Sometimes I really miss him.
he has 7 kids now and owns 350 acre cattle ranch near Bend Oregon.
My best friend in high school had the last name of James. I’ve lost touch with him the last 40 something years. We used to get out of study hall in the afternoon and head to a bar in town to pound down a couple quick drafts, then head back to class. I knew a guy back in the past with some kind of disorder that made him stink all the time. We called him Stinky Jim. Nice guy, but you didn’t want him crashing on your couch. There is a borderline low-functioning adult at my work whose name is Jim. Claims he was a Seabee in the Navy. Then we find out he was a clerk attached to a Seabee unit, shuffling papers and typing. He couldn’t find his way out of a corner without help, but he thinks of himself as a mechanic and electrical/building maintenance genius. The rest of think of him as, well, low-functioning. Can’t stand the asshole.
Low functioning. Bless his heart.
I have an uncle named Jim. Good guy. His idea of a wild night is drinking A beer. Not 2 or 3, a single, uno, one beer. Love him to death but loosen the necktie every now and then.
I like jimmies on my ice cream.
.
Me too!
My life long friend, Doug’s dad was named Jim. Jim worked for one of the airlines, and always came home from work about the time us kids got home from school. The first thing Jim would do when he got home from work was go straight to the bathroom to have a seat. One day, I had to go after Jim got out, and to my surprise, Jim forgot to flush, and holy shnikeys was I surprised to see the biggest log I’d ever seen!! It stretched from one end of pot to the other with a perfect, tapered curve on the end– just like the letter “J”!! I had to go tell Doug and my brother before I could flush it; someone besides me had to see this monster!! From that day on, the three of us always referred to big turds, or going number 2, as going to “take a Jimmy”.
Very crazy story, but one that had to be shared.
Love your writing Jeff.
Makes the term jimmy hat a little grosser.
Cousin Jimmy was the funniest fucker I knew when I was a little kid. Alas, he did not handle booze and drugs when he got older nd was diagnosed schizophrenic. Haven’t seen him since the mid eighties…he didn’t show up to his mom’s funeral. Sad.
Jim F, or as we called him “Brush” because of his pornstache. Worked at the archives together and he got my name in secret santa…got me the LP “Damn The Torpedoes” by Tom Petty, which makes him aces in my book. Another Jim I haven’t seen since the mid eighties.
Jimmy P was a co-worker at the tobacco plant, on the night shift. One of the best guys to work with, showed me the ropes and always willing to lend a hand. Had backne like you wouldn’t believe. Haven’t seen him in twenty years.
Haven’t met a worthwhile Jim/Jimmy since then. Warning: if your name is James and I meet you, you will be called Jimmy…or Jeemy…or Jimbo. Maybe Jamie if you’re lucky.
Hey Jeff!
I’m the “regular Jimmy, now Jim” that never stayed in touch. Sorry about that
Hope to do better.
Really enjoy your posts, especially about Dunbar! I’ll see if my Mom has some old childhood pics – I think she does. I’ll send you a couple.
Jim Workman
I have been married to one for 50 years. My grandson is one, and he was known for 15 years as Jamie, and now he wants to be called James. I told him I am too old to change and he shouldn’t expect me too.
I call my weiner, Jimmy Johnson. Does that count?
I had/have a friend names James who helped me in so many ways. However, he is one to make men’s and women’s blood boil. He cut out my cabinet so a stand-alone stove would fit there, cleaned side-post battery things that I could not do, saved me a million and one time. Often, he just called an army buddy to come help me. Sometimes, they sneaked my car in and repaired it.
One time, I was talking to my friend’s son who was in the same unit and he did not know which James (last name) was my friend. I said, “The one no one likes. Then, he knew exactly which James I meant. My friend commented that she would hate to be known as “the one no one likes.”
I was not just a taker as I tutored his son in math/algebra so he would pass to ninth grade and picked him up from school for about six months.
He was a guy who could be so nice and thoughtful and then turn evil and beat his child and wife….strange. But, I appreciated him and chided him about his treatment of his child. So, that is my James.
NOT a boyfriend! He was married when I met him and gave him cans for boy scouts, divorced a nice woman, and married again.
I had a friend for years named Jimi. His mother named him after Jimi Hendrix and decided to spell it the same way. He one one of only a few people I considered a best friend and it did not matter to me that he was of the opposite sex. I did not think it mattered to him either, that is until the day I got married. He was there of course, and acting very strangely, almost hostile in the way he spoke to everyone, especially to me. He never returned my calls after that day. The only thing I can figure is that he may have had hopes we would be more than friends, which was not an option for me.
I’ve really, really had it up to here with that name. Why? you ask — Well, my father was named James. Ditto for my brother.
My mother’s brother and his son were also James. Nevermind that they were all called Jimmy, then Jim as they got grown up.
My husband’s brother is James.
I don’t like conversations that go like this: “I saw Jim yesterday…he said…”
Me: “Jim who? Which one are you talking about? Jim in Attleboro, or the Jim that you worked with?”
I just can’t take it anymore.