Los Angeles is allegedly a city that fosters countless unknown stars, all searching for any and all means of exposing their raw talent.
To the annoying, loud-mouthed, self-obsessed young 20-something hooker who sat in my section and sang her way through the entire evening, my section is not the proper showcase for you to share your minimal vocal abilities.
When she and her five friends (dirty gypsies, all of them) sat at my table, she shouted "OH MY GOD I LOVE THIS SONG!" as Madonna's "Hung Up" blared over the speakers.
Not one to appreciate the deprecation of Madge, I immediately interrupted.
"Would you like anything to drink?"
"EVERY LITTLE THING THAT YOU SAY OR DO, I'M HUNG UP...I'LL HANG UP ON YOU!!!" she squealed into an invisible hand-held microphone. I came this close to holding my invisible shotgun to my head and pulling the invisible trigger.
(Regarding "Screechy's" musical prowess, imagine a group of grieving gypsy women at a funeral, simultaneously screaming, breathing and bellowing.)
Her friends, each one more stoned than the other, seemed indifferent to her theatrics. She took their silence as permission, and proceeded to belt out every song that followed.
What annoyed me even more than her crooning were the self-adoring looks she'd give me, as if the pen and pad in my hand were meant for her autograph. However, once "Manic Monday," "Always Something There to Remind Me" and "Hollaback Girl" came and went, I began to realize that only two people from this gypsy tribe were ordering, and "Screechy" wasn't one of them.
She did, however, manage to consume three shots of our shitty house tequila, paid for by the neighboring table of nasty Armenian men who hadn't seen such thrilling live entertainment since selling their youngest daughter to a brothel.
As the night progressed, Screechy did not let up. On the contrary, she found ways to incorporate dance into her routine, which I gleefully put the kabosh on.
"You have to stay seated."
"Ohhhh come on man," she said in her affected poser beatnik emo gypsy hipster voice. "I'm just having a good time."
"People are trying to get by behind you, you have to keep the area clear."
"Can you at least tell dem to turn up the music?"
"No."
"But I LOOOOVE this SOOONG" ("Single Ladies" by Beyonce)
"No, sorry. Is anyone else ordering anything or can I..."
"DON'T...TREAT ME TO THE THINGS OF THIS WOOOOOORLD..."
I dropped off the check. The third copy, to be exact, which I placed next to the previous two copies I'd left within the preceding hour.
Once they finally left, I didn't even bother to sort through the pile of dollar bills, pennies and plastic
trinkets they used to pay their check. I did, however, enjoy a rare ride home void of any music.
You had me at "allegedly"
Posted by: JoKellz | July 02, 2009 at 10:01 AM
As a life-long introvert, I am always taken aback by people who are loud and obnoxious in public. They either have a serious lack of self control or they think they are way better, cuter, smarter (etc.) than they really are.
Posted by: hustler | July 01, 2009 at 08:32 PM
oh lord. i would not have been able to handle that! one more screech and i probably would have dumped the tequila on her head.
Posted by: Crystal | June 30, 2009 at 09:25 AM
OMG, this is one of my biggest pet peeves. I blame American Idol with making pre-teen girls think it's OK to sing in public. It's not. I swear, if I get stuck on a train with a girl showing off her singing "abilities" to her obviously uninterested friends again, I might have to cut a bitch.
Posted by: Sarah | June 30, 2009 at 08:33 AM
"Dirty gypsies, all of them." I am usurping this expression and using it CONSTANTLY from now on.
I am still cracking up at the thought of you rifling through Oriental Trading Co. tip. "Oh look, a plastic glow-in-the-dark whistle with the Lord's Prayer written inside!"
Somewhat off-topic: I know it's totally un-PC to say, but whenever I watch footage of Middle Eastern women mourning at a funeral, it freaks me the fuck out. They call it "ululating," which just makes it all the worse. It just doesn't seem...natural. Like your first response to tragedy is to howl like a cat being neutered without anesthesia.
Posted by: Rachel | June 30, 2009 at 08:22 AM