Things to Call the Person Standing in Front of You Whose Name You Have Forgotten

Hello, dear reader. Happy Friday.

Things remain bleak out there! The weather is cold, the news is terrifying, and baseball doesn't start for more than a month. I'm ready to put a long and busy week in my rearview mirror, drink exactly (1) beer and fall asleep on the couch at 8:45pm.

Unfortunately, I've got one more obligation to get through this week–and I've just run into someone that I know whose name I can't remember.

What do I call them!?

Let's review our options.

Man - Weak. First of all, this only works if the person is, in fact, a man, but it's also a failure of imagination and effort. They will know you've forgotten their name, and your reputation in the collective imagination will be tarnished.

Buddy, Pal - Highly dependent on tone and mood. Could tighten your tenuous platonic bond, could start a bar fight. Possibly both? Can't take that risk.

Champ, Slugger - These work best if you're talking to a seven-year-old, or someone who hit 30 home runs for the 2002 World Series champion Anaheim Angels. Ah, geez, what the heck was his name?

My Man - This works best if you are Denzel Washington. Of course, if you're Denzel Washington you don't really have to remember people's names.

Friend - Warm, welcoming, well-intentioned. You also run the risk of sounding like Anton Chigurh.

My friend - Much better. The guy who ran the deli across the street from my apartment in New York would greet me with this every day, and though I know he didn't know my name, he knew me well enough that he'd start my bacon, egg & cheese on the griddle if he saw me waiting to cross the street.

One of the most important relationships I've ever had.

[snaps fingers] Troy Glaus. Heck of a ballplayer.

Hon - I've always felt terrific every time I've been called 'hon'. This can't be deployed by just anybody, though, and if you're not sure deep in your bones that you can, then I assure you you cannot. It's something you're born with.

Mon cher - On the other hand, this one's a big enough leap that I think you can ride on the sheer audacity of it. So what if you're not Cajun? You talk like Gambit now. People will remember you.

My liege - A similarly-big leap, but one that all but assures you won't have to remember their name next time, because they'll keep their distance.

Comrade - [watching a U11 YMCA basketball practice with another disinterested dad] "which one's yours, comrade?"

Big Dog - The early part of this list was pretty highly-gendered, and I know that you think that this one is, too. It's not, and I need you to expand your mind. Some of the biggest dogs I've ever known are women (complimentary, I assure you).

Being a Big Dog is for anyone, as long as they've got that dog in them.

Doctor - This is the one. Maybe they're a doctor? They're probably not. They'll appreciate the affectation either way, though, and it's possible they'll call you "doctor" back. Before you know it, this interminable networking event has turned into this scene from Spies Like Us (1985):

That's the kind of vibe shift we could all use.

It's Friday again at The Action Cookbook Newsletter, doctor.

We're barreling headlong into a three-day weekend, and I'm bearing all the Good Things you need to make the most of it.

This week, that includes:

• A revisitation of an ACBN Classic Recipe!
• The grown-up evolution of a college-bar drink!
• Some chill music, a fun book, very good pets and more!

It's Friday. If you can't run with the big dogs, stay on the porch, hon.