Ashamed to be an Oklahoman

I normally go out of my way to boast about my roots when told that I seem too sophisticated to have been raised in Oklahoma. I've always taken pride in the common decency and good nature that abound in most people from my home state. However, I was filled with shame and disgust as hundreds of Okies invaded LA for the UCLA/OU football game this weekend. The last two days have taught me that I can never live near these people again.

Surprisingly, the worst offenders were my high school "friend" and her mother. We'd agreed months ago that I would take off work this entire weekend to spend Friday and Saturday with them. And with a new car payment and an ever-increasing rent, I can't afford to take off two busy nights at the restaurant (despite a continually cozy cushion from my blink-and-you-miss-me commercial). Still, I was excited to show off LA.

Yesterday, as we lunched at the infamous Ivy (where you only see C-list celebrities), my obnoxious friend and her mom asked repeatedly in increasing volume "Is she somebody? Is he somebody? Is she on TV? Is that her real nose?" I wanted to die. I must have appeared to have kidney stones because I excused myself to the restroom five or six times. Seriously, I understand the thrill of seeing celebrities, but they're like hunted animals. If you make it obvious you're looking for them, you'll never see them. Hence, the good ones don't eat at the Ivy. But my friend and her mom carried on like two Wandas in a trailer park.

After cliched shopping trips to Kitson and Fred Segal (where I was the only one who purchased anything, go figure), my friend and her mom decided they were tired and wanted to take a nap. Fine by me. Oh, but they also neglected to tell me that they'd made plans with some friends from Oklahoma for the remainder of the weekend and wouldn't be able to hang out anymore during their trip...even though I'd said repeatedly that I'd given up two lucrative, rent-feeding shifts and made plans for the three of us.

So we parted ways after an awkward, unapologetic silence down Wilshire. Without even a "Goodbye," I got out of the car and made plans with my commonly decent and good natured LA friends. I've never been so thankful to get away from nasty Oklahoma trash. I hope to God that those two realize money doesn't buy class so the next time they're in LA they aren't living examples of ignorance and simplicity.

But if there's one thing that immediately connects me to my roots, it's my unfiltered wrath and bitterness, which I definitely acquired long before my days as a Californian. Thank God I walked away with something useful from Oklahoma.