Jerkisms

Jerk-iz-uhm
Noun – the act of behaving in a jerk like manner.
adj – jerkistic                adv- jerkistically 

Synonym – doucheism

Since I started working (a.k.a sitting in a traffic jam twice a day, for an hour, in order to get to and from a place where I can earn enough money to pay for my petrol bill, which is so large due to sitting in traffic jams twice a day) I have started to notice how much I hate people.

No, not you. You are my favourite person.

I do not discriminate in my hatred, basically if you are in a car when I am also in my car, then I hate you and you should be very sorry indeed.

In driving, just like in the non-vehicle world, there are always a few jerks that seem to think they are above the rules that apply to the rest of us and they strive to push us law abiding folk to the limit. My own limit was reached earlier today when I missed my turnoff because some moron decided to get in the wrong lane and cut me up as I was turning off. 

Yes those are lasers coming from my eyes. That really happened.

I didn’t honk my horn at him because it is the most pathetic horn you will ever hear, it is more of a pleasant toot and it just sounds friendly no matter how hard I jab at it. Instead I thought I would get back at him on the internet by writing angry things and making him look foolish.

But then wouldn’t you know it; I went and became the jerk on my way home.

I was in a rush because I had an appointment at the hairdressers and I didn’t want to be late [Retrospect: I missed my Hep B vaccination the other day, I should probably get my priorities sorted] so I committed a huge jerkism and pushed in front of a whole queue of cars by using the second lane before it merged in to one road, this is a tactic solely reserved for selfish people. I could feel all the drivers’ hate lasers on the back of my head, but I just sat there knowing I was a special case and they would all feel awful if only they knew how bad my hair looked.

Then I thought, what if that moron from earlier was also late for his hair appointment? What if he had a wife in labour on the seat next to him? Was he rescuing a puppy strapped to a bomb that would detonate if he drove less than 50mph? Had I hate-lasered an innocent hero?

No. He was just a moron.

But still it got me thinking, are there times when being a jerk is really the right thing to do? I’m a nice person; I helped an old lady cross the road once so I’m set for life as far as karma is concerned. But sometimes being too nice can be a problem. Like this little story that happened earlier this year:

During my final year project at university, I spent every single day at the library. One day I decided to just take the library home with me instead.

 

WARNING! Exaggeration in place!

(because in real life you couldn't even see my legs)

Clearly navigating doors was a bit tricky, but I had managed by using my wits (dropping the books and picking them back up while holding the door open with my bum). The final stage was opening a door in the courtyard that led to freedom. Unfortunately some Good Samaritan happened to see me with my haul and held the door open for me.

That’s nice right?

WRONG.

I was absolutely ages away from the door at the time, at least 20 steps, meaning I had to do that stupid slow motion run that conveys the message: “Oh my gosh, thank you so much for holding the door for me, it means ever so much, I understand what a burden that door is for you so allow me to run to it lest your arm should begin to ache, since I am the very reason you are undertaking that Herculean task in the first place”

I’m not the most co-ordinated runner, once I jogged three steps to my car and managed to headbutt my bonnet because my left ankle bent on the first step, the right ankle bent on the second and both knees hit the ground on the third. So you can imagine what me running with a stack of books is like.

Did I mention it was raining? It was. A lot.

I don’t need to relive the memory of me stumbling bambi-like for a few steps before the inevitable happened, so I’m going to skip ahead to the bit where all my books were lying in a puddle and I was picking them all up with a bleeding knee.

Even though this man tried to do the right thing, he managed to do it wrong. Thus achieving an accidental jerkism. He probably felt terrible about it afterwards, because he is not a jerk, if he was then he would have just left the door closed to begin with and I would not have had beautiful green bruising all up my leg for the following week. In that scenario, a true jerk would have been preferable. Maybe people should start being a bit jerkier and let people open their own doors! Why must we go out of our way to clear the path for complete strangers? Who are these fools that make people run to gain entrance in to a building that they are perfectly capable of manoeuvring in to themselves? Jerks, that's who.

But wouldn’t you know it; I made an old lady run for the door that very same week.

The Background Character

I was watching a Disney movie the other night in order to make myself content and sleepy, but instead I found myself left in a state of wide-eyed horror upon the “happy ending” that I usually find so cheerful (and occasionally have a joyful little weep about).

Clearly I was in a bit of an observant/morbid mood because for the entire film I had started to contemplate the world outside of the main protagonist’s storyline; what was the economy like? Were there jobs besides being royalty or a peasant? What age did they have to work to until they could get a pension? Was it a requirement to become evil if you happened to be born ugly? It seems that for life outside of the main plot, things are not quite so rosy.

I applied a bit of thought to this and decided that the unhappy ending is part of a much larger phenomenon and not just found within this one film, because in (mostly) every movie there would be a horrendous outcome for at least 50% of the poor sods who aren’t attractive enough or evil enough to be a main character. You’re safest if you’re a cute animal, because by my calculations they have a 97% chance of survival.

Maths.

“But good guys are supposed to win and the baddies get defeated, probably even murdered in some way” I hear you shout, outraged at my lack of joy for the beautiful people. Well, to that I say, you are a fool! Because us normal people who do not look like Angelina Jolie and Hugh Jackman would not be the ones getting to shack up with the hunky prince or hot blonde at the end, we would be the people cleaning up the messes they made by exploding our houses, flipping our cars over and making us late for work. Can you imagine the cost of insurance in the Transformers universe?

“I’m standing on your what? Your family? Oh shit…sorry. But I totally saved the world so… you’re welcome.”

With that in mind, I took it upon myself to become the voice for one of the people affected in the movie I watched. As a fun game you can guess what it is (or a boring game, I don’t know what you like doing, is that fun for you? Maybe it isn’t exciting enough? Ok, I’ll make it more dangerous, the floor is also lava.) I have done about a dozen of these in my head, but I’ll just give you the one since we are both new at this game and have yet to decide if we like it (did you burn your feet on the lava? I bet you did.)

Here it goes:

July 20^th 1741

Dear Diary

I started my new job today! Came just in time because Julia is pregnant so we need to start saving up for the little one. It is only polishing the tables after dinner is over, but guess where it is? A castle! I didn’t even know we had one near us to be honest, it’s a pretty small town, but there is a freaking castle in the woods! I had no idea. The boss is a bit of a jerk as far as I can tell, I haven’t met him yet but everybody else complains about him constantly. Despite that I can only see good things ahead! I might even burst into a little song about it, I’m sure other people will join in.

July 29^th 1741

Dear Diary

Well, I am a fucking napkin. Seriously. I am now a napkin. I have no other details right now.

July 30^th 1741

Dear Diary

It turns out it’s the boss's fault, we all met in the ballroom for an emergency conference. Looked like a goddamn furniture sale in there. The boss looks pretty kick-ass considering he is supposed to be suffering the most, as far as I can tell he has superhero powers, looks like he could take on a pack of wolves. Apparently he insulted some fairy or something, why she felt the need to turn all 450 staff members into prisoners is beyond me. I want to go home.

August 4^th 1741

I can’t go home, I am a napkin. I tried to leave and blew into a bush. I was in that bush for 3 days before a footstool found me and carried me inside. I can only hold out hope that the curse will be broken. For now I will try to fill my life with work to pass the time. 

1742

Time moves slow when one has no need to eat, sleep, drink, respire or even blink. I spend my days folded in a drawer or folded on a table. Though I am really good at folding now, I can do a swan.

1748

I forget what date it is, I forgot how to write for a while there. I believed I was an actual napkin until somebody said my name last week: Nigel. My name is Nigel.
I wonder how my child is getting on without me? I wonder if my wife remarried? Do they think I abandoned them?

1748
A teacup told me there is a girl in the castle. We are all very excited. She is the only person ever to come to this castle so I am confident she is meant to break the curse.
It seems odd to me that this castle is so secluded actually; does boss have no family or royal business to attend to? How has this place gone unnoticed for so long?

We sang a song to the girl. I forgot what humans looked like, with differing facal features and stuff.  I wonder if I will have aged when I turn back in to a man?
I feel really pleased with myself. After years of doing nothing I did a little twirl next to the punch bowl during the musical number and I really nailed it, the clock told me “good show” as I passed by afterwards.Tracey thought he was talking to her but he so wasn't.

1748- later on
WHAT! WHAT!? THE BASTARD LET HER LEAVE. WE ARE ALL ABSOLUTELY OUTRAGED. HIS EXCUSE? “I HAD TO”.  DOES HE NOT CARE ABOUT US AT ALL?

I’m going to smother him in his sleep.

1748- the same day

Oh. Now there is a mob coming to destroy us. I welcome them. I only hope to take a few of them out with me. Nigel the napkin will not go gently into that good night.

1748

  

1752

I have only just regained the ability to write. Good news: the curse was broken. Bad news: I was in a drawer with 12 other people when it happened, only 3 of us got out alive, each with incredibly severe spinal injuries. I look like a question mark. The prince has given us compensation for our troubles (after a fierce legal battle) and I am looking to move away to forget my pain and the family who gave up on me.

I’m thinking somewhere exotic like Agrabah, nothing ever happens there.

Wow, I have bummed myself out with that one. You too huh? I’ll make it up to you. Here is my dog to give you a kiss.

D'awwwww

An Unfortunate Habit

Now reader, this one is going to shock you, but I feel you need to know if we are going to have a healthy relationship:

I am not a perfect person.

No no, it’s true! You can stop shaking your head and gaping at how humble I am.

Some faults I have worked on over the years, I actively acknowledged how annoying I was when I was younger and tried to make myself less of a douche. But there is one thing in particular I do that has never really worked out well for me yet I can’t seem to stop doing. 

I wouldn’t really class myself as a lazy person, I work, I walk the dog, I do the housework when I get home before mum (which is not ever, but the thought is there). But the one lazy attribute I have is something I picked up as a student; and I think there are a lot of sufferers out there who need to know they are not alone.

I hate getting dressed in the morning.

Screw you, jerks.

We all love our pyjamas and wish that we could spend our lives in them; they are designed to be comfy and some of them have pockets you can store biscuits in (it’s what I use them for anyway). I personally opt for the “oversized t-shirt look” because it means that I can eat a large pizza to myself and still feel skinny because my food baby is well hidden under the canopy of my shirt. The mirror has no idea it’s there and I feel clever for tricking it.

Dumbass.

But my commitment to pyjamas is actually half-arsed in itself, because I start out with the good intention of being a fully clothed person when I get out of bed, but once I have completed the underwear phase the whole “ergh now I have to find matching things to put on the outside” situation crops up and that is where I lose my motivation. A normal person upon giving up getting dressed would probably put their pjs back on, but I feel like that would be too much like getting dressed and then I may as well have just put actual clothes on. So underwear it is. Obviously when I have work this isn’t a problem because I am aware that to keep my job I need to be wearing clothes, so common sense wins out on those days.

But for several months after finishing university I found myself all alone every single day whilst my parents were out earning money in order to feed and clothe me (ironic really). This gave me the freedom to live my life as I chose; meaning for 5 days out of the week I would wear pyjamas until 5 minutes before mum arrived home, unless it was one of those motivated days when I would be in my underwear.

Unfortunately the next 3 anecdotes all happened when I was having a motivated day, all of them within the last few months and all of them at varying levels of shame.

Percentage of upcoming shame: 24%

When I was jobless I did not usually leave my room until hunger drove me downstairs at about 11’o’clock in the morning, then I would grab an armful of food and retreat back to my room for the rest of the day. So it was an odd morning that found me downstairs at 8.30am (it may or may not have been to watch a certain children’s TV show that I accidentally got addicted to, but that is a whole different problem).

What I forgot was that our neighbour comes to take our dog for a walk at that time every morning, a fact I did not remember until the front door opened suddenly. Naturally my first instinct was to run, the only place to run to would be the room with our dogs basket in, the only place to hide in that room that isn’t visible is the dogs basket.

Unfortunately for me, Buster was upstairs, not bothering to get up to go for his walk.

 “I’m not a cliché you know” – my dog.

Meaning the neighbour started to come into the kitchen to search the dogs bed. I could hear him coming closer so I swallowed my panic and popped my head around the door, “Oh hi! He is upstairs on my bed, erm, you can go get him if you like”. There was an awkward pause before he thanked me and went to retrieve Buster.

I’m fairly certain he did not know about my clothing predicament even though I looked suspicious, but he may now believe that I sleep in the dog basket and that Buster has my room. Or failing that, I appear to be somebody who enjoys hanging out in a dog basket during the early hours of the morning.

Percentage of upcoming shame: 37%

This one is only embarrassing because I had no idea about the situation until after it occurred:

I like dancing when I’m by myself, I like it more when I’m pampering myself at the same time. Recently I was dyeing my eyelashes and painting my nails while dancing around to The Supremes, in my motivated state of dress. I don’t know if you have ever seen eyelashes being dyed, but it looks like you have three big eyelashes all clumped together with tar.

The doorbell rang.

I looked out the window preparing to ignore whoever it was, but there was a car outside so I figured whoever it was had driven there especially and I don’t like wasting peoples time. So I quickly pulled on my jogging bottoms and my pj top and ran downstairs congratulating myself on being so decisive. My eyes were stinging a little bit from the dye, but I figured I would muscle through it.

When I answered the door, the gentleman took a step backwards. Retrospectively this should have been my first clue. But I gave him my most winning smile and chatted to him while he gave me a message for dad, he apologised for waking me up (at 2 in the afternoon) and I assured him I was not sleeping when he rang, to which he looked a little confused.

There is a mirror behind our front door which I had been in too much of a hurry to look into when I answered, however when I closed the door I came face to face with this:

"Would you like to come insideeeeee?"

Actually that is probably less scary than the real thing. My hair was inexcusable as it was, but I had some how managed to make it static during my frantic t-shirt application, my face was black from dye which had streaked down my face in fat blobs, my eyes contained more dye than I previously thought and were bloodshot and watery, I had some how got nail varnish in my right eyebrow and not only was my t-shirt inside out but so were my joggers.

Luckily I never had to see him again.

Oh no wait, he totally came round again that very night. Yay!

Percentage of upcoming shame: 96%

As discussed in my previous blog, I’m not so good with greeting other adults, but if I have to talk with the man who cleans our windows I completely lose my nerve for some reason. So I spend a lot of time trying to avoid him when he is doing his thing because I feel like an animal in a zoo, a boring one.

(I guess I’m a bit hypocritical since I spend large amounts of time with my face against Fishtopher’s bowl watching him swim about. I wonder if he tries to avoid me.)

Normally I hear him coming, but on this day I was lying on my bed (a place you cannot see unless you happen to be on a ladder outside my window) when a movement caught my eye and I noticed the top of his head about to pop into view. I would have made The Flash himself jealous; the laws of physics could barely contain me I moved so quickly on to the landing, where I was faced with a whole new predicament; where should I hide? Every room has windows and I had no idea where he would be next (he works with another man, so potentially that’s two rooms off limit at any one time). I decided the best thing to do would be to quickly dash into my parent’s room and lie down the side of the bed between the wardrobe and the bed.

I stayed there for over half an hour just to be safe, I heard him clean all the windows.

It was only upon rising out of that position I realised there are mirrors covering the doors of the wardrobe.

I always forget, though I doubt I’ll be forgetting again soon, that mirrors do not just reflect the things right in front of them but depending on your position you can see the whole of a room. To test it I stood by my parent’s window, and sure enough I could see the exact position I had been taking cover in. Or more precisely, where I had been lying flat on my back in my underwear on my parent’s bedroom floor practising the British sign language alphabet while a man cleaned my windows and probably made the decision to quit his job.

So now I have one more reason to hide when the window cleaner comes.

I should never have taunted the mirror with my baggy tops.

You have won this time.

Reasons why I am not a grownup

The last few weeks I have been having a bit of a freak out, mostly I’ve kept it to myself, but the fact is I appear to be growing up and it is terrifying. Everything seems to be going well for me, I have a job which could turn into a career, I like a man who isn’t gay for once and yes I am still living with my parents, but it’s got to the point where I actually like it now.

So to calm myself down I decided there are certain things a person needs before they can claim to be a real, honest-to-goodness adult. Hopefully I will never achieve them all.

Own a pet without killing it  (should probably aim to achieve this one)

Now I’m the sort of person who will sometimes forget to feed myself if I’m busy (aka playing video games), or even if I’m not busy actually, once I was trying to throw cards into a hat and 4 hours of my life just vanished. Needless to say as a child I got through a few animals. Some didn’t even belong to me; I dropped my best friend’s hamster down the stairs and it started doing back flips while screaming, it died fairly soon after that. Other notable snuffs include my rabbit freezing to death and not noticing my hamster had died until a friend picked it up and informed me. Since I was only a child, I tell people these stories and they just laugh at my adorably childish neglect.

But can you imagine if I told you these incidents happened last week to somebody in their 20’s? You’d stare at me in horror before we lapsed into awkward silence and you pretended to get a phone call (or made a real one to the RSPCA).

I have made progress with this one actually, I appear to own an indestructible fish. I clean the bowl when I can no longer see him inside, yet there he is day after day, living.

 Got a few weeks left yet Fishtopher. 

 

Hang up on telesales people

I see my parents do this all the time; they cut them off with a “no” and hang up.

I am incapable of doing this.

A couple of weeks ago I ordered a new mobile phone, 5 minute conversation for a normal person. My phone record says I was on the phone for 26 minutes 57 seconds. The reason I know this is because I was charged £11.36 for it. I actually paid money to listen to a woman tell me a bunch of random offers I already told her I didn’t want, but the silver tongued witch just kept on going, how could I stop her?! By being a grownup that’s how. Instead I sat there playing solitaire while she rattled on about charges overseas. You see, in an attempt to shut her up I had told this lady that all my family and friends lived abroad and I was the only one in England, I really only needed the phone for work. She told me there were many offers for contacting my family abroad; I weakly whispered “skype” down the phone before giving in and hearing her out for 20 minutes. 

Understand taxes and other such nonsense

There is no humour to be pulled out of this situation, it is all just awful. I learnt about council tax last year and almost cried. 

Converse with people older than you

I don’t mean a few years above, I’m talking decades. As a teenager there is nothing I hated more than being introduced to friends of my parents, we had nothing in common, unless they were going to drive me somewhere or give me free drinks that is. Now I can chat away happily about petrol prices and the weather without irony. I used to overhear adults talking about these things in the pub and think how bored they must be. Now I overhear them and turn back to my friends to ask them for their opinion on the NHS cutbacks.

Oh my gosh I was just serious for an entire paragraph. Let’s move on quickly.

Converse with people younger than you

Right! This is where I feel I will always be at a loss. As hard as it was as a teenager to talk to adults, there is nothing compared to the torture of trying to talk to miniature sub-humans who converse in squeaks and grunts. Yes, I am talking about pre-teens. Babies I can deal with, you just rip a bit of paper and it will amuse them for hours. I actually enjoy doing things babies do; playing with soft toys? Yes please. Taking naps in the middle of the day? Count me in. Eating mushy things without the need to chew? Why am I not doing that right now!?

But those weird ages between 8 to14, I don’t understand anything about them. I can’t even remember being that age apart from being fully aware that I was annoying the entire time. Yet adults used to try and speak to me. If I even see a child in that age range I will cross the road and turn my music up so that I don’t have to hear those squeaky little voices that make my brain ache.

Greet strangers when out walking

This is a minor thing, but something that I always equate with being an adult. You see it when walking the dog and strolling along in the countryside or abroad. It is the simple “hello” alongside a tiny wave or nod. It lets other adults know you are one of them, the secret handshake of the adult kingdom.

I simply cannot master it.

A few weeks ago I was out walking with a man friend who noticed my shortcomings in this department. I endeavoured to prove him wrong by pulling off the perfect hello-wave to the next person we came across. Unfortunately I was a bit over excited at the prospect and ended up waving a little bit too early.

Ok it was way too early.

I couldn’t exactly stop waving and re-wave when we got closer so I had to commit. Sadly I over compensated with my face, which got dementedly more happy as we got closer. The unfortunate man was greeted with a face akin to this:

Can you imagine that face walking towards you for 20 seconds? Naturally he did not return the wave; he probably thought I was an axe-murderer. Instead he looked very confused and stared at his feet, left with a deep sense of unease.

Mission not quite accomplished.

Quit damaging things in stupid ways

I am a clumsy person, a lot of people do not realise it because I’m good at hiding it. But I fall down all the time, drop things and kick drinks across the room. Once I achieved all three at once, I had spaghetti hoops up my wall and orange juice in a plug socket that day.

But I can’t help my balance, that’s just me.

The moments I’m referring too are the crazy moments of thoughtlessness that attack me every so often. Like last week when I thought it was a good idea to climb barbed wire with my new phone in my mouth, scratching the screen on the second day of owning it. All because there were cows in the next field and I wanted to try and get near to them.

Or the time I was jumping on my bed with a samurai sword and chipped my cupboard a little bit while re-enacting the house of blue leaves scene from Kill Bill.

More recently while camping I wondered aloud why it is cartoon characters warm their bums by the fire so often; when your bum is rarely the thing you’re concerned about being cold. Naturally I then put my bum near the fire to see what the fuss was about. Too close it would seem. Now I have a singed dress and a bum cheek that will never trust me again.

There were a few more things, but I feel I could ramble for hours on the subject and wouldn’t want to ruin the internet.

I’m feeling calmer now I realise how far away I am from being in that scary state of adulthood, I played hide and seek with my dog only 2 days ago and ate icecream for breakfast. I think I’m safe for now.