As a kid:
Lipshizt. Dad couldn’t think fast enough to identify us when we were little rug rats being bad, so along with an accusatory finger and in an authoritative voice, he called us that.
DanMicheleJohnMichael. Same deal as above. He would go down the roster of kids until he hit the right one.
As a teen:
Ted the Head. Not sure why, but I think I was a bit of a egg head know it all in school.
Fart (or variations of…). During grade 5 phys ed. class, I was doing jumping jacks in front of Terry Dionne. As we hopped I could feel the pressure of gas build up until I couldn’t contain it any longer. With every landing, a small fraction of the overall fart would escape me. Bef. Bef. Bef. Bef. Terry went mental and started to cry/scream to the teacher that I couldn’t stop farting. I held that name for some time. Kids can be the truthiest of all.
These days I don’t have one. A lady at work calls me “Tee”. SharkBoy calls me “DeeAahr” every so often.