There was this charming blue haired old lady at the bank this afternoon in a shiny denim suit. Not just ANY denim suit, like a granny-ish denim suit. But a denim suit I would expect to see on a fifteen year old male, skulking through a alley-way, mumbling about guns, girls and busting someone up.

Yes, she was wearing this shiny, stiff denim ensemble with non-matching denim retro sneakers. As I observed her outfit, I thoroughly searched for the hidden bling, but could not spot any, save her large earrings that could have channeled in HBO, from my vantage point. She was clutching a bright kelly-green crotched bag and speaking in shrill tones.

Of course, she managed to get the only ethnic teller in the entire bank.

Mind you, this teller was neatly dressed and very professional looking. But, she happened to look a touch TOO ethnic for this Ghetto Grandma. GG peered at her suspiciously through her thick--straining to be stylish--glasses. After she reluctantly passed her money over the counter to the teller, she shouted, slowly and clearly, her instructions:

"FOUR ROLLS OF PENNIES, TWO ROLLS OF QUARTERS AND TWENTY DOLLAR BILLS."

The teller responded very graciously and repeated her order to make sure it was correct.

"YESSSS... TWENTY DOLLAR BILLS."

Everytime she speaks, GG balances herself on her toes, thus rendering a bouncy sort of emphasis for every syllable. The drawn out "yesss" was sort of a quiver-y in-between bounce. Rather painful on the calves I would imagine.

As the teller finished her transaction, GG was mumbling about people not speaking English in America, stupid immigrants, etc. For the sake of the teller, I restrained myself from saying:


Yes. This is America, which is why you are allowed to wear such a fashion catastrophe without being lynched in broad daylight.