Karen conunundrum, about face & black thumbs

Dear Rachel,

Why are aggressive, disrespectful, typically coiffed middle-aged women all called Karen? It’s this phenomenon where as soon as Karens were described to me, I understood exactly what Karen stood for. But all the Karens I know, none of them are actually named Karen. By now, typing the name Karen so much, it doesn’t even look human. Kind of like a lot of Karens don’t act human. But why? Why Karen and not Linda or Barbara?

– I Ask Because I Karen

Dear Anna Karenina,

We should clarify what Karens are for the two people out there who don’t know. The person who sends back perfectly good meals: Karen. The person who demands to speak to a manager at the first sign of inconvenience: Karen. The person whose humiliating downfall in the face of compassion or common sense you guiltily relish: Karen. If you don’t recognize these descriptions, you are probably a Karen yourself. But why the name? I don’t know, Karen. Deal with it.

– I am the manager, Rachel

Dear Rachel,

Why does “face” get thrown around like it does to emote extreme feelings? It’s an expression of anger. “I want to kick his face.” It’s an expression of adoration. “I love your face.” It’s an expression of sorrow. “I miss your face.” Insane cuteness? “I want to squish your face!” Why? Why the face? Couldn’t we just say “I want to kick you, love you, miss you, squish you?” without picking any particular body part?

– Face the Nation

Dear Facey McFaceface,

English borrows words from all kinds of languages and bastardizes the hell out of them to make them work as English. The fact that you can taco your friend and wash with shampoo – turning a Mexican dish into a verb and a Hindi verb into a noun – means we can use pretty much any word we like at any given time. So face it. Of all the words in all the world, “face” just sounds best.

– In your face, Rachel

Dear Rachel,

I bought a bunch of plants last week. You know, to plant in my yard and enjoy all summer long. One of them died already. I know it’s not me or my soil, because all the other plants didn’t go belly-up right away. I dug up the plant and took it back to demand a refund or a replacement, and the clerk said sorry, sales are final and that’s just the risk I take with living things. Excuse me? If I adopted a cat that died a week later, you better believe I’d get that cat replaced. Why should plants be any different?

– Green Thumbs Down

Dear Green Mile,

We all walk our own mile in our own time. Maybe it was just time for your lavender or sedum or whatever the eff it was to go off to the Great Compost Heap in the sky. Maybe it really is you, and this plant just didn’t feel like putting up with it anymore. And maybe you can explain to our earlier letter-writer why your name is Karen.

– Dig this, Rachel