Anybody who knows me knows I'm a bit deaf. Too many years standing in front of too many speakers punching out too many decibels = Deaf g.
But that doesn't explain why I can't seem to understand anyone anymore!
Like the lady that works at the local Baja Fresh. For those of you who don't know what Baja Fresh is, it's a fast food franchise that specializes in Mexican food – especially the BORE_EAT_TOES (as my youngest son Noah calls them).
Here's the thing … I won't go there anymore. Why, you ask? 'Cause the last time I went there, the little (and I mean little, as in a Mexican Oompa Loompa) lady humiliated and shamed me into total defeat. With just one unintelligible question, a question I'm still utterly unable to answer. Here's how it went:
<The line was long both ahead of me and behind me. When it was my turn, I stepped up to the counter confidently.>
Me: "Hi, I'd like one Ultimate beef burrito please."
Mexican Oompa Loompa lady: <staring up at me devoid of any emotion> "Blacbince o pintobince?"
Me: <Not expecting …whatever she just said> "No, I want one ultimate beef burrito, please."
Mexican Oompa Loompa lady: <Now seeming to peer into my soul with her ink-black evil eyes> "Blacbince o pintobince?"
Me: <speaking ver-ry slow-ly and loud-er> "No! I WANT ONE UL-TI-MATE BO-REE-TOE … please!"
Mexican Oompa Loompa lady: <not blinking, not laughing, not amused … but now vexing my SOUL> "Blacbince o pintobince?"
Me: "Ult—"
Mexican Oompa Loompa lady: "Blacbince o pintobince?"
Me: "TIMATE—"
Mexican Oompa Loompa lady: "Blacbince o pintobince?"
Me: "BO-REEEE-TOE!!!!!!"
<My eyes now bloodshot, sweat pouring down my forehead>
Mexican Oompa Loompa lady: <Blinks. I thought I had her just where I wanted her! But then she pursed her hateful brownish lips and regained her mojo> "… Blacbince o pintobince?"
Me: <I looked behind me for help – all I saw was a growing line of impatient people, looking back at me with no emotion, uninvolved, uncaring wretches! I asked myself, Could they be in league with Senora Mini-Witch?>
Mexican Oompa Loompa lady: <more aggressive> "Blacbince o pintobince?!"
Me: <Helpless, emotionally-naked, stripped of my dignity> No reply.
Mexican Oompa Loompa lady: <now doubling up - goin' for my jugular> "Blacbince o pintobince?!" "Blacbince o pintobince?!"
Me: <tears forming in my eyes> "I want to speak … to the manager!"
Mexican Oompa Loompa lady: <cold … relentless … heartless … just noticeably grinning like a female, south-of-the-border, pygmy Hannibal Lecter > "Blacbince o pintobince?!"
Me: <lower lip quivering, manhood stripped away, in a last ditch effort I reached for my cell phone like it was some kind of medieval shield. I punched the speed dial button for my wife. I didn't even say hello to her, I just yelled into it, "WHAT … IS … SHE … SAYING??!!" then pointed it at the Mexican Oompa Loompa lady like it was a crucifix and she was a vampire>
Mexican Oompa Loompa lady: <silent>
Me: "SAY IT!!! SAYYY IT!!!! For all that is Holy SAY … it …"
Mexican Oompa Loompa lady: <silent>
ME: <half-threatening, half-pleading, through my clenched teeth> SAY … IT … please, PLEASE … just SAYit sayit sayit sayit …!
Mexican Oompa Loompa lady: <silent>
Baja Fresh Manager: "Sir, I'm going to have to ask you to leave."
The crowd behind me parted like they were the Red Sea as I turned on my heels, trying to regain some shred of my dignity and began to exit the establishment, in shame. As I got to the door, I turned and looked back at my short, mustachioed, chubbita nemesis. With my last iota of manliness, I thrust my chin up at her.
The Mexican Oompa Loompa lady finally showed some hint of human emotion … but it wasn't charity … it wasn't consideration or empathy … it was Mexican Oompa Loompa lady superiority!
She smiled broadly enough for me to see her gold tooth sparkling in the late afternoon sun as she silently mouthed "Blacbince o pintobince …"
But that doesn't explain why I can't seem to understand anyone anymore!
Like the lady that works at the local Baja Fresh. For those of you who don't know what Baja Fresh is, it's a fast food franchise that specializes in Mexican food – especially the BORE_EAT_TOES (as my youngest son Noah calls them).
Here's the thing … I won't go there anymore. Why, you ask? 'Cause the last time I went there, the little (and I mean little, as in a Mexican Oompa Loompa) lady humiliated and shamed me into total defeat. With just one unintelligible question, a question I'm still utterly unable to answer. Here's how it went:
<The line was long both ahead of me and behind me. When it was my turn, I stepped up to the counter confidently.>
Me: "Hi, I'd like one Ultimate beef burrito please."
Mexican Oompa Loompa lady: <staring up at me devoid of any emotion> "Blacbince o pintobince?"
Me: <Not expecting …whatever she just said> "No, I want one ultimate beef burrito, please."
Mexican Oompa Loompa lady: <Now seeming to peer into my soul with her ink-black evil eyes> "Blacbince o pintobince?"
Me: <speaking ver-ry slow-ly and loud-er> "No! I WANT ONE UL-TI-MATE BO-REE-TOE … please!"
Mexican Oompa Loompa lady: <not blinking, not laughing, not amused … but now vexing my SOUL> "Blacbince o pintobince?"
Me: "Ult—"
Mexican Oompa Loompa lady: "Blacbince o pintobince?"
Me: "TIMATE—"
Mexican Oompa Loompa lady: "Blacbince o pintobince?"
Me: "BO-REEEE-TOE!!!!!!"
<My eyes now bloodshot, sweat pouring down my forehead>
Mexican Oompa Loompa lady: <Blinks. I thought I had her just where I wanted her! But then she pursed her hateful brownish lips and regained her mojo> "… Blacbince o pintobince?"
Me: <I looked behind me for help – all I saw was a growing line of impatient people, looking back at me with no emotion, uninvolved, uncaring wretches! I asked myself, Could they be in league with Senora Mini-Witch?>
Mexican Oompa Loompa lady: <more aggressive> "Blacbince o pintobince?!"
Me: <Helpless, emotionally-naked, stripped of my dignity> No reply.
Mexican Oompa Loompa lady: <now doubling up - goin' for my jugular> "Blacbince o pintobince?!" "Blacbince o pintobince?!"
Me: <tears forming in my eyes> "I want to speak … to the manager!"
Mexican Oompa Loompa lady: <cold … relentless … heartless … just noticeably grinning like a female, south-of-the-border, pygmy Hannibal Lecter > "Blacbince o pintobince?!"
Me: <lower lip quivering, manhood stripped away, in a last ditch effort I reached for my cell phone like it was some kind of medieval shield. I punched the speed dial button for my wife. I didn't even say hello to her, I just yelled into it, "WHAT … IS … SHE … SAYING??!!" then pointed it at the Mexican Oompa Loompa lady like it was a crucifix and she was a vampire>
Mexican Oompa Loompa lady: <silent>
Me: "SAY IT!!! SAYYY IT!!!! For all that is Holy SAY … it …"
Mexican Oompa Loompa lady: <silent>
ME: <half-threatening, half-pleading, through my clenched teeth> SAY … IT … please, PLEASE … just SAYit sayit sayit sayit …!
Mexican Oompa Loompa lady: <silent>
Baja Fresh Manager: "Sir, I'm going to have to ask you to leave."
The crowd behind me parted like they were the Red Sea as I turned on my heels, trying to regain some shred of my dignity and began to exit the establishment, in shame. As I got to the door, I turned and looked back at my short, mustachioed, chubbita nemesis. With my last iota of manliness, I thrust my chin up at her.
The Mexican Oompa Loompa lady finally showed some hint of human emotion … but it wasn't charity … it wasn't consideration or empathy … it was Mexican Oompa Loompa lady superiority!
She smiled broadly enough for me to see her gold tooth sparkling in the late afternoon sun as she silently mouthed "Blacbince o pintobince …"
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