A different title to this thread might have been "Next. 648. 648? I'm sorry, sir, but you are in the wrong line," or "How I came to enjoy my lengthy sojourn at the DMV" if Alla allowed longer headlines.
This is a tale of my recent visit to that bureaucratic opening to that place that smells of burning sulphur and is spelled H-E-double hockey sticks. Mind you, this is the kind of experience that can only be had at such a nexus of ne'r-do-wells and unsavory characters other than an emergency room of a general hospital on a cold winter's night in a large metropolitan city. Please excuse the language, which I would otherwise not use, but in order to get the full flavor of this interlude at the Department of Motor Vehicles I felt I had to report this as it actually occured.
So, the question is, just what, precisely, do you never-- and I mean never --say to a black woman? Particularly in a public place? Thus you have the setting for my tale:
It doesn't matter to me whether her name is Chocolate, Ebony, Honey Dijon, LaQueesha or Quadreviola; once you offend her delicate sensibilities she all over you like smell on shiet. I had spent a very unfortunate hour at the DMV last week Friday listening to these embarrassingly loud and guttermouthed 'hood rats yammering away on their cell phones, when all of a sudden I hear a male Okie voice say, "Shut the fook up, dirtbag!" A big 'ol trucker dude had finally had enough of these nasty chicks doing the Loud Ghetto thing and he finally snapped and barked that exact phrase at the two worst offenders.
Their reaction? Well, what exactly would you expect?
The largest and most gelatinously sloppy "female" water buffalo says into her phone, "Baby, hold on a sec. I gotta deal with something here..."
This was accompanied by an audible whooshing moan from the plastic government issue chair she heaves her bedraggled sweat pants clad rotundity up to where she's standing semi erect, her hoof on her hip, her head starting its Oprahfied bobble dance, when all of a sudden the humongously flabby arm starts to raise up, posturing to make her point:
"Ohhhhh nooooo you DIDN'T!!! You did NOT just tell ME to STFU!!!"
Before she could delve any deeper into her InnerOprah, a little 4'8", 85 lb Vietnamese grandmother put down her grocery bag, stood up next to LaHeiffer and said, "Ahhh, yes, he did. And I think I speak for everyone else he-ah when I say YOU ARE VERY INCONSIDERATE WOMAN! Why you talk so trash? Why you yell everyting?? You talk so loud that the "Baby" you talking to don't even need phone to hear you! You in a public building! Quiet down! Doh meh no loh!"
Unfortunately for us bemused observers, it went no further. Before LaHeiffer could come back at the trucker and the little Vietnamese lady a rent-a-cop came over and forcibly escorted her yelling and screaming *** out of the building.
It was pretty sweet though to hear LaHeiffer's trailing yell, "Get your fu[/i]cking hands offa me! You can't take me outta here! My number's next! My number's neeeeext......"
ROFL. That made the whole wasted hour worth it.
Totem
[i]Edited, Tue Mar 28 14:11:14 2006 by Totem