When the L.O.U.D.S. Can’t Hear

View of L.O.U.D.'s Mouth, Actual Size

View of L.O.U.D.'s Mouth, Actual Size

For those of you who are new to my lovely little slice of heaven on the internet, you can click here to find out what a “L.O.U.D.” is.

Last night I was tweeting with my friend Jodi about how “ghetto” a few of our area’s WalMarts were. Then she commented about how funny she thought my L.O.U.D. posts were. In hindsight, I would call that “foreshadowing.”

Because this morning I was almost attacked by a L.O.U.D. A big one. And for me to say she was big takes on a lot of meaning, considering these are my current weights and measurements. She also had a couple of friends with her, and now that I think about it, if they had been wearing dresses and makeup, they could have passed for the Weather Girls.

Anyway, I was standing in line at Jamba Juice when one of my friends called me from Staples.

Friend: “Okay. So, I was going to call you anyway because I’m at Staples and I was going to ask if you needed anything, then I realized that I’m standing here in this stupid ink section and I forgot my frickin’ cartridges and I can’t remember what the numbers are.”

Me: “Oh! Hey! I hate when that happens . . .”

Friend: “I know, right? So, what’re you doing? You’re off today, right?”

Me: “Yep! But I’m being swallowed up by the slowest line in Jamba Juice history. It totally reminds me of McDonald’s — no one EVER knows what they want, but they still stand in line. Then they get to the counter and they’re all ‘uhh . . . what’s an energy boost?’”

Friend: “Soo stoopit”

Me: “I love that non-word . . . stoopit!”

Friend: “Hey, so anyway, do you still have the same printer as me? HP-something-or-other . . . multi-function fax . . . yadda yadda. We bought them together at Thanksgiving . . .”

Me: “Still got it.”

Friend: “Sweet!! PLEASE tell me you know your cartridge numbers. Black is . . .”

Me: “Black.”

Friend: “Ha. Ha. Seriously. Why am I thinking 74?”

Me: “That’s the one.”

Friend: “So, that makes color . . .”

Me: “Colored.”

Friend: “I am so gonna hang up on you. Is color 75?”

Me: “Yep.”

Friend: “Sweet! How can you be such a lifesaver and a total bitch at the same time? Oh, look! They’re on sale!”

Me: “Really? Bitches like me love sales!”

Friend: “Yep!! Two black and one color cartridge for forty-five bucks.”

Me: “Score!”

Friend: “Cool. Okay, so do you need anything? Ink?”

Me: “Yes! Two blacks and a color. Same as . . .”

And it was at this moment that one of the L.O.U.D.S.  in front of me thought it a good idea to whip her head around and say, “Ex-CUSE ME?!”

And I was like, what the f-ck is her problem? So, I turned around to see if she was talking to someone behind me. But there was no one there. Then I got scared.

So, I furrowed my brow and cocked my head a little and said, “Ex-cuse me . . . what?”

And my friend on the phone said, “What? You want one of these packs?”

Then the L.O.U.D. said, “Who are you calling two blacks and a colored?”

And I did the stupidest thing in reaction to her ignorance.

I laughed.

Friend on the phone: “You still there?”

Me: “Yep. I need to call you right back, though.”

L.O.U.D.: “What. You think this is funny?”

Me: “No, I think it’s sad, actually.”

L.O.U.D., getting a little too close to me: “Sad? You think calling black people ‘colored’ is sad?”

Me, getting about one foot from her face and clinching my jaw: “No. I think your ignorance is sad. You have absolutely NO clue what I was talking about. I was talking about INK . . .” And then I had to catch myself because I almost ended the sentence with “dumbass!”

Freaked out teen at the counter: “Uh, can I get something started for the next person in line?”

[Uh, YEAH. How 'bout getting this fat bitch a brain?]

Me: “INNNK. Two black. One color. HP 74 and 75. Anything else?”

Startled, she then tried to absolve herself and still remain accusatory by clicking her tongue, snorting, and with skepticism in her voice saying to her friends: “Ink. Right.”

So I, now totally pissed off and feeling like a badass because I can get through one whole Jillian Michaels workout, said: “Yes. INK. It rhymes with THINK.”

Then I said to the kid behind the counter, “They were next.” And left. I have no idea what I would have done if any of them followed me out. But they didn’t.

It took me ALL DAY to calm down after that. Then, a mini-L.O.U.D. went and f’d everything up again. More on THAT tomorrow.

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06

07 2009

6 Comments Add Yours ↓

The upper is the most recent comment

  1. 1

    Oh. My. Goodness. You are hilarious! That ONE was worth waiting for! And I agree, some of our WalMarts are ‘ghetto’ and I am frightened to go there after dark or without my dear hubby!
    People should just mind their own dang bid-ness.
    .-= Carol´s last blog ..Baby Showers =-.

  2. Corrina #
    2

    Oh my GAWD how I LOOOVE your L.O.U.D. stories!!!! You were at a Jamba Juice in California for fuck’s sake, not a clan rally in Alabama. Anyway I’m glad they didn’t attack you. Good for you for educating that bitch. You’re my hero. :-)

  3. 3

    I love these stories so much! They are hysterical and I wish I could be there with you to experience it. It has to be way more exciting in person. Kinda like sports. I don’t watch tv sports, but love going to games. I don’t want to meet any of the LOUD’s so I’ll just sit here laughing at your fun adventures, grateful that there are fewer here in my small town.
    .-= SoupDiva´s last blog ..Not so neighborly…….. =-.

  4. 4

    hahahaha!! “Two black and one colored”!!! Seriously, this stuff belongs in a sitcom or something. What channel is your life on? ;-)
    .-= Elisa´s last blog ..No way, baby. =-.

  5. Nic #
    5

    LOLOLOL… nothing like throwing one’s head back for a good belly laugh… OMG. Thank you for that. Too funny!

  6. 6

    It’s sad that such people reinforce stereotypes, but that’s how stereotypes get started in the first place.
    .-= Marvin´s last blog ..Billy Mays =-.



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