People I Want to Punch in the Throat

People I Want to Punch in the Throat

PEOPLE I WANT TO PUNCH IN THE THROAT: A SHORT LIST

My parents. Seriously, who spells their kid’s name “Jenni” with an adorable i? I guess they never expected me to be a doctor.

Anyone who thinks I really named my kids Gomer and Adolpha. Their real names are actually worse.

That one guy who sits in the middle of Starbucks yelling into his stupid Bluetooth about a bullshit quarterly report. We all hope you choke on your latte.

Extreme couponers who hold up the checkout line over thirty frickin’ cents. I’m mostly pissed off because I always forget my coupons at home.

People who treat their pets like children. No further explanation needed.

Anyone who feels the need to bling her washer and dryer. I blame Pinterest for this shit.

The guy in front of me at McDonald’s the other day who asked, “What’s good here?” Even the guy behind the counter didn’t know how to answer.

Humble braggers. If you have something to brag about, then just own it.

Anyone who names their kid after a Kardashian or a Twilight character. Trust me, no one believes that you just “thought up” the name North on your own.

Moms who tell me my life would be so much easier if I implemented “systems.” Oh, fuck you.

People who tell me not to swear so much. Oh, fuck you, too.

People who think this book might be about them. Don’t be so vain. You’re not the only asshat I know.


You’ve Got Mail!
 
Believe it or not, I’m happily married to a guy who doesn’t mind the fact that I’ve never set foot in a CrossFit class and that I own “good” Crocs and “bad” Crocs. He overlooks my unfortunate shoe choice and I don’t mind that he follows me through the house flipping off lights to save money or gets his hair cut only when he has a coupon.
 
I know right about now you’re feeling some twinges of jealousy. You’re thinking to yourself: “That sounds like a match made in heaven!” or “How do I catch a guy like that?” Well, let me tell you how we met.
 
In 1996 or so, I bought my first home computer. It was some sort of IBM product. If I was some weird computer nerd, I would be able to tell you all about the ROM and RAM this machine had. All I know is that it was black when every other model was off-white. When I was perusing models with the sales guy who was blathering on and on about what it could do, all I could think was how much better the black would look in my home office than the ugly off-white. I’m that kind of nerd.
 
I needed a computer because I was going to write a novel, you see. Ha! I’m still stuck on the first sentence: It was a dark and stormy night….
 
I got the computer home and unpacked it and found that it included a disk, or was it a disc? I can’t remember. Anyway, it was for a free trial of America Online. Remember AOL? I’m sure the Internet had been around for years at that point, but I’d been at school in Bumblefuck, Iowa, where I barely had phone service, let alone Internet, and as I stated above, I was not a computer nerd (just a regular nerd), so I didn’t know what the hell AOL was exactly. I read the description and decided I should try it. For someone like me, who really couldn’t comprehend the Internet, it sounded like the perfect introduction.
 
I hooked up my computer, plugged it into a phone jack, and went online for the first time. These were the days of dial-up, so I’d log in and send AOL off to find an open line, and then I’d have time to get some dinner, put on my jammies, and maybe even throw in a load of laundry before I’d hear: “You’ve got mail!”
 
AOL was so smart. Even the first time I logged in I had mail. It was just a welcome letter from them, but it was still mail and I loved to hear that voice announce every time I logged on. It was like crack for me. I was hooked. So long, social life!
 
Ha! As if I really had a social life to lose! In those days, I was living on my own and working at a shitty job. Most of my friends were married at that point and I didn’t feel like being a third wheel. My life was pretty much: get up, go to work, come home, watch whatever crappy show was on TV (this was before DVRs, so you had to watch whatever was on plus the commercials—it totally sucked balls), and go to bed. Get up the next day and repeat.
 
I quickly discovered that many people went on AOL to “chat.” There were tons of chat rooms to choose from based on your interests. Everything from dog grooming to knitting to S&M. You could also search through profiles to see who was online and send them an instant message (IM) to see if they wanted to chat privately.
 
For the first few weeks I would jump around from one chat room to another. Every time you entered a chat room somebody would IM you with “a/s/l?” That’s douchebag-speak for age/sex/location. The hard-core douchebags would add “What are you wearing?” to the list. The annoying thing was, all of this information was in my profile (except my attire), but those dipshits were too lazy to look. It just seemed so show-us-your-tits to me. Ugh.
 
As soon as I’d enter a chat room, I’d get bombarded with IMs asking me my age and location. I was very popular, and I couldn’t figure out why, because this had never been the case in the outside world. I’d reply, and then half the time the next question was: “What are you wearing?” I didn’t know enough to lie, so I’d reply: “Sweatpants.” My chat partner would go silent. Not the answer they were hoping for I guess.
 
I tried a local chat room a couple of times. Supposedly everyone in that room lives in the same city, and you go there mostly to hook up with local strangers. It creeped me out, because I didn’t like the idea of “running into” someone I might actually know. I could just see my neighbor IMing me, “a/s/l/naked?” The guys in the local rooms also put a lot of pressure on you to meet IRL (in real life), so I tended to stay away.
 
I liked hanging out in the twentysomethings room, which was full of, well, twentysomething people from all over the world. Most of the people in there were cool and they never asked me if I was naked or if I wanted to meet IRL. I spent many evenings chatting/typing with people.
 
One night I entered the twentysomethings chat room and I received an IM from a guy who asked my name and age. Ugh. Can’t you read? I thought. But instead I told him, “Jen, 24.” I waited for “What are you wearing?” but it didn’t come. Instead we had a really normal conversation. Well, as normal as a conversation can be when you’re typing to a stranger halfway across the country. He told me his name was Ebenezer. He was a year older than me and lived in Queens, New York, and had just graduated from NYU’s film school. We chatted about movies and current events and made each other laugh. A lot. He was really funny and dry. Sometimes humor is hard to convey when you can’t hear the tone, but I totally got his sense of humor.
 
He especially made me laugh when he asked about my screen name.
 
Ebenezer: Tell me about your name.
Jen: My name? I dunno. My parents gave it to me.
Ebenezer: No. Not your real name. Your screen name. It’s … interesting.
Jen: It is?
Ebenezer: Yes. I’m curious about it. How did you come up with it?
Jen: Well, I’m a writer, you know.
Ebenezer: Yes. You mentioned that.
Jen: And names are very important to writers. They give them a lot of thought.
Ebenezer: Did you give your screen name a lot of thought?
Jen: Of course! (I didn’t want to tell him, but I thought my screen name was extremely witty. I had worked very hard on coming up with an excellent screen name.)
Ebenezer: So, how did you think of it?
Jen: Well, I used my name: Jen. Duh.
Ebenezer: Duh.
Jen: And then I incorporated my [at that time] favorite book: Douglas Coupland’s Generation X. Remember, I told you I think he’s a genius and totally the voice of our generation. He just gets us. Y’know? (On a side note, I just Googled Douglas Coupland to make sure I was spelling his name correctly, and holy hell! He is an old man. Am I that old? Shit. We are so damn old, Generation X!)
Ebenezer: Yes, yes. Maybe one of these days I’ll finally read that book.
Jen: OK, so I took Jen and Generation X and I wanted my screen name to be JenX. Get it?
Ebenezer: I think so. Is it like Malcolm X?
Jen: Nooo, silly!
Ebenezer: LOL. J/K.
Jen: I’m Jen. I’m Generation X. I’m JenX.
Ebenezer: OK, but that’s not your screen name.
Jen: No. Because AOL said JenX was already taken, so they offered me Jenexxx. I was disappointed I was late to the name game, but then I decided AOL’s suggestion was perfect.