Obnoxious Southern Women

Dear Obnoxious Southern Woman,

I hope you die. You're not only ugly, but you're retarded. You have a speech impediment and you should see a doctor. See a shrink while you're at it.

You might buy expensive shampoo, but you still live in a trailer and you're still a hick-fucking parasite.

You need to completely erase the word 'got' from your vocabulary. In fact, you need to wipe your entire Language Slate clean and start over. Go read a fucking book, you piece of white trash.

Your parents obviously didn't love you because by the looks of it, not only did they drop you on your head several times, but they must have slammed your face in the car door to ensure that you would grow up to be as rude, ill-mannered, temperamental, and psychotic as possible.

Love,

tigersandtrees


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readers note: Obviously not all southern women suck. In fact, most of them are polite. But sometimes... sometimes... you come across the one that sets the stereotype for terrible people in the South. I hate, hate, hate those people. Passionately hate.

I feel better now :)

details:
Picture it.

It's 9am, Wednesday morning, nice weather. I've had some caffeine, I had a full night's rest (having gone to bed at 8pm), I'm in a good mood. My clothes rock, my hair looks awesome, but work sucks because I am stuck sticking little tags in front of other little tags in every part of the store. So my left hand index finger hurts from pulling back the plastic to stick the tags in, I'm carrying a bunch of pre-punched papers with itty bitty tags with itty bitty numbers that I have to find and match up with in each brand, etc. I walk off to get another piece of paper because I finally finished with my second, when suddenly I hear a screeching, "HEY. YOU. YOU. HEY, GIRL."

I turn around, baffled. There's 3 women, two are looking away, offering only a glance over their shoulder at the fat cow behind them, and one stops dead and stares at the woman before resuming her way.

This obese, greasy looking woman with bad highlights and even worse skin is beckoning me. She shoves her hand into a box, nearly ripping it apart, and lifts up a bottle of Biosilk.

She says something unintelligible. It sounds like, "Do this work?"

I begin a slow nod while I turn around to face her, putting on a smile. "Yes, it should work," I say automatically.

She gives me that, "Oh, you're pretty but you're stupid" look. She sighs (a loud, impatient sigh), and asks her 'question' again.

This time, I'm confused, but figure I'm still salvageable. I'm five aisles away from her, so I start walking towards her so she will stop yelling at me from across the store, saying, "Are you looking for the Biosilk? It's right behind you, in this aisle."

I walk passed her and point to the rows of Biosilk.

"I need them pro-teen paycks."

"Protein packs? I don't think we carry those."

"UGH, ya know, PRO-TEEN PAYCKS? Ya rip 'em open and put 'em on yer hair," she begins to gesture wildly and her voices gets annoyingly high-pitched.

As of this point I am utterly confused as to why she grabbed the biosilk in the first place.

"Are you looking for something to--"

She continues her wild gestures, and then begins to chant something new, "NOnononono, I need PRO-TEEN PAYCKS."

"Ma'am, I can suggest a good moisturizer if y--"

"NONONONO, ya ain't LISTN'IN ta me!!! I need PRO-TEEN PAYCKS. Ya rip 'em open and PUT 'EM ON YER HAIR!!!" Not only did she cut me off, but she yelled at me as if I were deaf. You know how when two people who don't speak the same language meet, one of them always seems to think that speaking louder will somehow make them understand their language better? It was like that.

"I'm fairly sure we don't sell those, ma'am. I've never seen them before. Maybe you'd like to try some Matrix? My mom uses it for her hair and it really works wond--"

"UGH, Nononono, that's not what I want. I want the thang where ya rip open 'em paycks and put 'em on yer hair, them pro-teen paycks."

"Let me go find my manager, maybe she knows if we have any in, we just had the Christmas rush so we are--"

"That'd be fine, do that."

I leave. My manager says, "Uh, no, we don't sell those, but the vitamin store might. It's right across the way."

I go to tell the woman this and she seems to make a huge scene and runs out because I don't have specific directions (WTF).

I think I am finally rid of her, but about two hours later she comes back. At this point I am helping another customer try to decide between some shiners (or something). The woman huffs by me, and while the customer I'm with is in the middle of the sentences, she says, "THERE YOU ARE. I SEEN YOU BEFORE. HI!!"

"Yeah," I fake a laugh. "I remember you, too." I want to hit you in the face.

"I went to that vi-tah-men store but they looked at me like I was crazey or somethin'."

The rest of it I chose to block out. She eventually found what she wanted - it was by Joico, not in a pack, in a regular bottle, and it was called K-Pak. She shoved it in my face and asked me where Joico products were, and didn't even thank me. She didn't say 'please' or speak at a tolerable volume, either.

GOD I wanted to kick her in the ovaries.