I was heading up a North End street with a couple of women. They were walking; I was coasting on my bicycle. One of them I’ll call ‘wicked simultaneous orgasms girl.’

The other one I’ll call ‘make fun of the name of my bike girl.’

“‘Jennifer,'” she said. She shook her head. “That’s a bad, bad name.”

“Hey,” I said. “Shut up.”

“You don’t understand,” she said. “I work with words. ‘Jennifer’ is just plain wrong.”

“So you work with words,” I said. “You work with words, I work with words, everybody works with words. You’re missing the boat on this one.”

“Just the name ‘Jennifer,'” she said. “The name alone causes blonde pigtails to sprout out of your handlebars.”

“Ha,” I said. “From the word jinni, meaning ‘spirit’… and the word fer, meaning ‘iron.'” I rode around and around in circles in the middle of an intersection. “Jennifer. The spirit of iron.”

“Jennifer is a horrible name,” she said.

~I don’t know if anyone named Jennifer reads this site, but I think Jennifer is a lovely name for a lovely lady.

Anyways, going around saying “I work with words” is kind of like saying “Hi, I’m in a band.”