Eye Roll

8 May

But please, you go ahead and continue being rude to my face.

So…I must look like a priest because every day is like confessional. I don’t know why random strangers EVERYWHERE come up to me and tell me crap they really shouldn’t be saying out loud, or at the very least, not to a complete stranger. Especially when that stranger has a great memory and a blog!

99% of the time when I get tables from the East Coast they are from Long Island, but this time I got a table from New Jersey. They asked me where I was from, “California.” “No way. You have a weird accent. Where are you from originally,” they said. They are not the first people to comment on my “weird accent.” Uncouth people point it out all the time. In a culture that is disgustingly too PC, it always cracks me up when people feel like they can point out a difference in someone. Normally, I ask people where they think I’m from.

Here are some of the places I sound like I’m from:

Boston: I have a friend for Boston who confirms that I say Mom, candy and car like I’m from Boston.

New York: I have no clue how anyone could think this.

Atlanta &  Texas: I have a twang sometimes, I can see this.

Seattle: They have accents?!

England: No.

The table from New  Jersey thought I was from somewhere in New York. This should have been my first clue number to them being totally nuts. I told them that I’m from the middle of California and I might have a…unique dialect because I grew up around a Scottish granny and a bunch of old Okies.

“What’s an Okie,” they asked. Right here is where I gave them too much credit. I thought that no one who’s gone through the public school system in America could NOT know about the Dust Bowl.

“You know, the Dust Bowl,” I said.

And that’s when I had to explain the Dust Bowl to a table of adults.

Why are they admitting they don’t know?!?!  I didn’t need to know how truly dumb they were. They could have kept that a secret! Nope, it was confessional time. They were dummies.

I referenced Steinbeck’s Grapes of Wrath because he lived with the Okies in Bakersfield. (I know you want to know where Mom, out by Pumpkin Center.) My English teacher went to school with kids who lived in the same camp as him, a neat fact that was lost on these morons. Still, they had no clue. I swear to God, this country’s finished.

“Huh,” was their response to my history lesson.

“Yea, it was kind of a big deal in the 1930s. Have a great vacation,” I said.

Then I turned, walked away and rolled my eyes so hard they fell out of my head.


3 Responses to “Eye Roll”

  1. Maybelline May 8, 2012 at 2:57 PM #

    Weedpatch Sunset Camp was where I thought Steinbeck went.

    Interesting clip.

  2. Suzanne Blender May 8, 2012 at 10:45 PM #


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