#44: Tourism

Anthony Bourdain once said “travel isn’t always pretty…sometimes it hurts, it even breaks your heart.”

Clearly, Mr. Bourdain has never been to Latvia (ok, he probably has… that guy got around!).  But, I am certain he has never been to the “Go Blonde Festival” in Latvia; had he been he surely would have changed his opinion on the pretty part.

While I love to travel, I have no need for this new brand of “towhead tourism.” If I want to see a “parade” of beautiful blondes, all I need to do is stand between two mirrors and, viola, infinite blonde beauty as far as the eye can see!  (I’d invite you to see it, sometime, but you’d probably ruin it… no offense.)

Besides, towhead tourism is really just Latvia’s way of cashing in on the “Blonde Bump” (which should not be confused with the “blonde bumps” as that’s another post all together).  The Blonde Bump I am talking about is that little “boost” you get around a beautiful blonde, the little “lift” you get from proximity to a light haired lady.

Back in 2009, the blonde brain-trust that is the Latvian Association of Blondes (LAB) decided that bringing literally hundreds of golden goddesses to Riga, the capital city, would help lighten (pun intended) the economic crisis that was darkening everyone’s doorstep.  The LAB figured returning to the gold standard (by which I mean hair, of course; I am not an economist, I’m a blonde) would lift the people’s spirits, if not the economy.  The event turned out beautifully, of course; what else would you expect from a literal parade of golden goddesses?

Someday, maybe, I’ll make it to the Latvian “Go Blonde Festival” but, until then, I will stay put and keep America’s gold standard going strong.

Go Blonde

About time we returned to the Gold Standard. (Actual picture taken at the Go Blonde Festival:  https://www.bbc.com/news/10191164)

 

 


#43: Moths

Johann Wolfgang von Goethe put it perfectly:

“Beware of her fair hair, for she excels
All women in the magic of her locks;
And when she winds them round a young man’s neck,
She will not ever set him free again.”

Yet, despite this fair (and poetic) warning, men seem drawn the brilliant beauty of my golden tresses like moths to the flame.  I don’t suffer from mottephobia, the fear of moths, so that’s not my problem.

What’s at issue here is that my glowing golden aura may encourage men to approach, but when they get rebuffed, when they get burnt, somehow that’s on me.

According to a recent set of studies published in Scandinavian Journal of Psychology, about how often blondes were approached in a bar, “in study 1, the blonde confederate was the most frequently approached but was judged as less attractive than the brunette in study 2. [Even though] the blonde was judged as being as approachable as the brunette and redhead.”  (No joke, this is a real study:  https://www.psychologytoday.com/us/blog/homo-consumericus/201202/do-gentlemen-prefer-blondes)

Furthermore, “it would appear (at least within this restricted sample) that blonde women might be approached more frequently in a nightclub but are generally judged more harshly along a wide range of traits.”

So despite the fact that blondes were found to be less attractive, less intelligent, less approachable, and more incompetent they were still approached more frequently than their less golden counterparts.

Why?  Is it because we blondes are brilliant beacons in the bar?  Is it because you get more flies with honey-hued hair?

I argue it’s because, like moths to a flame, men cannot resist a golden goddess glowing brightly because once a blonde her lovely locks “round a young man’s neck,/She will not ever set him free again.”

Moth to a Flame

Does anybody have some bug spray I can borrow for Saturday night?

 

 


#42: Bottled Blondes

As a blonde, the most apropos way for me to stay hydrated is to reach for a frosty, refreshing blonde ale, right? 

Sure, blonde ales, just like all blondes, range in color from a pale straw to a deep golden, amber.  And ordering a blonde ale brings a crisp, bubbly, refreshing golden goddess to your table, just like going out for drinks with an actual blonde.

And sure, blonde ales are considered to have a hop character that is “of the noble variety” and are considered well-balanced and light bodied.  Basically the very embodiment of blonde bomb-shelledness.

But I just can’t do it!

First, let me suggest you reread Problem #2: Blondies for my thoughts on cannibalism.  The same extends to blondes drinking blondes (unless it’s under the table, then game on).

Second, in case is not abundantly clear from this blog, I cannot, in good conscience, condone bottled blondes.  No, not even frosty, cold, refreshing ones on a hot summer day.

Third, have you considered how it feels to have your very essence distilled (fine, Captain Technicality, brewed) down to one little bottle, easily procured from your local watering hole, so that everyone- and anyone! – can say they “know” you because of some pathetic little English major’s words on the back of a label?  Blonde? Check.  Bubbly?  Check.  Refreshing? Well balanced?  Check and check.

You haven’t, have you?  Well, I, for one, won’t stand for it (figuratively and definitely not at the bar because my gorgeous golden halo guarantees me a primo seat at the bar, even at Happy Hour).  I refuse to think that all my golden glory can been captured by one 12 ounce bottle.

I challenge you to think about that the next time you order a blonde at the bar!  We blondes are not some commodity that you can order and have dropped off at your table; we’re people, gosh darn it, beautiful, golden haired people.

Blonde ale 2

Ok, so, maybe you do  know me.


#41: Ventriloquism

I am sure you would be surprised to hear that I have been called a “dummy” a time or two in my glorious golden existence.  But, it’s true!

Now, I refuse to chalk it up to my beautiful blonde brain; no, rather it is due to the fine, ancient art of ventriloquism.  I know what you’re thinking – I look nothing like Jeff Dunham or Achmed the Dead Terrorist (probably the best known ventriloquist out there… I will reserve comment on who may be the best known dummy as 2020 is an election year).

Why, you ask, is ventriloquism to blame for such slander?  Because Mr. John Q. Brunette refuses to accept that blondes have anything worthwhile to say.  Take, for example, this almost verbatim transcript of a discussion I had the other day:

<In the middle of negotiation/settlement talk>

Me:  If you were to take a look at the controlling case law,  *blah, blah, blah, insert legal mumbo jumbo here*

John Q. Brunette: <interrupting> Nope.

Me:  ….you are barred by the statute of limitations from bringing such a claim at this time.  Wait, what do you mean, “Nope”?

John Q. Brunette:  I meant nope, not buying it.  No way you figured that out… by yourself.

Me: You got me, WE figured it out.  You know, me and that mouse in my pocket.

John Q. Brunette:  <reads case, hangs his head>  Damn, that’s a smart mouse.

 

I think it’s time to take our show on the road, Mousie!

 

 

dummy

Publicity shot from my one man act with Mousie.  He’s a damn fine mouse.


#40: 20 Questions

I will wager that you remember the game “Twenty Questions.”  It’s a great game to play traveling, cross-country in the car or with you elementary school friends.  Unfortunately, it gets a little tedious when you have to play it every day and the questions are always the same.

This is a transcript of my most recent game:

#1:  Is that your natural hair color?

Answer: Yes.

#2:  Really?

Answer:  Yep, all natural.

#3:  Seriously, that’s natural?

Answer:  Yes.

#4:  What do you do?

Answer:  I am an attorney.

#5:  No way!  Really?

Answer:  Yes.

#6:  What kind of law do you practice?

Answer:  I am doing workers’ compensation defense right now.

#7:  No way!  You are really an attorney?

Answer:  Yes, I’ve been practicing for 8 years now.

#8:  But, you are a blonde, right?

Answer:  Correct.

#9:  A real blonde?

Answer:  Right.  Au natural.

#10:  But, you are an attorney.  Have you seen “Legally Blonde?”

Answer:  Of course I have.  Elle Woods is my muse.

#11:  Really??

Answer:  Aw, you got me there!

#12:  So you are real blonde, right?

Answer:  Nope; you are imagining me.

#13:  And you are an attorney, right?

Answer:  Correct.  Haven’t you seen “Legally Blonde?”

#14:  Do you play an attorney on television?

Answer:  Nope; I am an attorney practicing workers’ compensation defense locally.

#15:  But you dye your hair, right?

Answer:  Negative ghost rider.

#16:  But, you are also an attorney?

Answer:  Right-a-rooni!

#17:  So, if you are an attorney what is the answer to my random yet totally complex and nuanced question on a subject you may or may not practice in?

Answer:  Well…<Insert pithy, relevant legal answer here.>

#18:  But, you are a blonde?

Answer:  Last time I checked which was, admittedly, a few moments ago.

#19:  Are you sure you are a blonde?

Answer:  Let me pull out my driver’s license just to be sure… Nah, you got me!

#20:  So, you aren’t really a lawyer?

Answer:  Oh…. you got me…. I am really a Pantene Pro-V hair model.

#21:  I KNEW IT!

You got me!

 

I am like, so totally, an attorney.  That or a hair model.

I am like, so totally, an attorney. That or a hair model.


#39: Recessions

According to the popular media outlets, and the economists, we are finally coming out of the Great Recession.  Everyone, that is, except for the blondes who are still toiling every day through the great recession of their genes.

Blondes have been experiencing a genetic recession all their lives.  This recession started before good ole’ Gregor Mendel started playing around with his pea pods and finally came up with the theory of genes and genetic inheritance.  (You will recall that it was Mr. Mendel who came up with the dominant/recessive gene theory and proved that you could breed certain traits with careful genetic selection.)

Unfortunately, for blondes, the recession started eons ago continues to this very day.

There is a body of work in evolutionary biology that suggests that blondes are desired partners, for reproduction,  because the mere existence of their golden locks is proof of their recessive traits.  And these recessive genes pretty much guarantee that your dominant dark-haired genes will not only survive, but thrive.

Every day, we (natural) blondes, labor under the beautiful, blonde burden that is our recessive genes.  We blonde are constantly confronted by your dark, dominant genes which are backed by a millennium of superiority and world domination.  Yet, we solider on in the great genetic Olympics that is life.  And we pit our fair, fantastic recessive blonde genes against your dominant ones in the most unbalanced competition.  It is as if your genes are the Russian gymnasts and mine are a pack of peppy, well-meaning high school cheerleaders.

There really isn’t a competition.  Your dominant genes crush my recessive ones every time.  And, poof!, you are winning at genetics.  Congratulations.

But, I posit that I have still won this round because I am still blonde.  And we all know that being blonde is tantamount to winning.  At every thing.

Blonde = winning

Blonde = winning (despite what Gregor Mendel says).


#38: Nicknames

If you know me, which clearly you do since you are reading this, then you know how much I absolutely, positively adore nicknames.   I think that nicknames are the perfect way to express your familiarity with someone and distinguish them from others.  And if you grew up in the mid to late 1980’s that became invaluable with the proliferation of Jennifers in your class.

 

You, yourself, have probably even been graced, or burdened, with an adorable alias, a nuanced nom de plume, a perfect pet name at some time during your life.  (And a select few of you lucky souls were even so lucky as to be blessed with a nickname devised especially for you by yours truly; you’re welcome!)

 

I, however, as a blonde have been subjected to the most impersonal, and creatively-bereft, nicknames out there my whole life.

 

People are convinced that they are being creative calling me “Blondie” or “Goldilocks” like I haven’t heard that one 3,578,516,502 times, this week.  Or like there aren’t a dozen other blonde girls being called the exact same thing, at the exact same time, somewhere else… likely very nearby.

 

I have never understood why people continue to pay homage to Deborah Harry by referring to other blondes as Blondie.  First, because Blondie was really Bottled Blondie and that does not bode well for the veracity of the nickname given.  Second, because the 1980’s was a weird time for music and I am not sure why anyone would want to relive that.  (Don’t believe me or remember?  Here is a quick refresher:  https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=pHCdS7O248g)

 

As for the “Goldilocks” reference, I am pleased to see that most every adult has read the classic children’s tale about a persnickety, precocious blonde girl with an affinity for porridge and breaking and entering.  But, as an adult, wouldn’t you be more proud to demonstrate that you can read beyond a third grade level by referencing some of the great, blonde heroines of classic literature?  Maybe throw in a little Helen of Troy, routinely depicted with a head full of blonde ringlets.  Or some Jane Eyre, .  Or, even get modern, with a reference to Daisy from the Great Gatsby as every high school sophomore from here to kingdom come was forced to read that book.

 

There are dozens of other musical and literary references from which to draw inspiration for a nickname.  So why not branch out, give a blonde a nickname that isn’t based on your keen sense of sight, a 1980’s pop sensation, or a child’s 3rd grade primer.  Try out a new nickname for a blonde next time you see one.  You might just like it.

This nickname is too generic.  This nickname is too pedestrian.  But this nickname.... this one is just right.

This nickname is too generic. This nickname is too pedestrian. But this nickname…. this one is just right.

 


#37: “Blonde” Moments

Ah, yes, the blonde moment.  The widely accepted, cuter, spunkier cousin of the senior moment.  Being as worldly-wise as I am, I would hazard to guess that everyone has heard the term, “blonde moment,” even those perpetually brunette cultures have probably heard of it.

And if they haven’t, they can always turn to the interwebs for a definition.  According to a reliable, internet-based source, UrbanDictionary.com, a blonde moment is a “flash of momentary stupidity.”

If that isn’t enough, even the Oxford English Dictionary (a real, legitimate dictionary that you can get in print and that everyone relies on for actual, real world definitions) defines the “blonde moment” as “NOUN: humerous:  An instance of being silly or scatterbrained.”

Blonde moments are not relegated to the ranks of the blonde.  They are equal opportunity.  Everyone can suffer from a blonde moment and I will bet you dollars to donuts that even you, dear reader, have had one.  And if you haven’t, well, then you probably will.  I swear to you:  You will have at least one blonde moment in your life time.   Sure, you may not recognize it… and someone else may have to point it out to you… but, there will be one, bright and shining moment where you too can be, nay! will be!, blonde without the aide of a hairdresser or  peroxide.

Trust me; it’s way cheaper than coloring your hair!  (See my previous post about maintenance.)

So, what then is the problem, you ask in your typically logical, brunette moment.  Well, the problem is that as a natural blonde ALL of my moments are blonde!

By logical, and therefore non-blonde, extension, all of my moments are “instances of being silly or scatterbrained.”  Or, worse yet, just “flashes of momentary stupidity.”  Now, dear reader, I know that you are so kindhearted and well-meaning as to rush to my defense and argue that I do not fall prey to such base stereotypes and definition.    I appreciate your championship; truly, I do.

But, as a counterpoint to your well-reasoned, sound arguments I offer the following evidence:  every, single thing I have written.  Just more proof that, yes, I am a blonde and that all of my moments are silly or scatterbrained.

Fortunately for me, I doesn’t matter how silly or scatterbrained the things I say are as long as I look good saying it.  Inclinded to disbelieve?  Then check out Exhibit #One And Only:

 

 

 


#36: Barbara Millicent Roberts

Probably the most well-known, revered, and awe inspiring blonde on the entire planet is no other than the humble, Ms. Barbara Millicent Roberts.

Since her birth in 1959, Ms. Roberts has lead a distinguished and varied career that is an inspiration to little blondies everywhere.  She has had the honor of serving her county as an officer in the armed services and even did a brief stint in the Marine Corps back in Desert Storm.  Through her training and education, presumably thanks to the G.I. Bill, she has lead illustrious careers in medicine and dentistry; while still finding the time to volunteer as a firefighter, lifeguard, and occasionally as a beat cop.

After serving her fellow man as a veteran, she ran for political office and was named an ambassador for world peace in 1986.  Ms. Roberts has served UNICEF, as a summit diplomat, since the early 1990’s.  But even with all that on her plate, she still makes time to give back to her community; teaching arts, dance, sign language, Spanish, swimming, aerobics, yoga, and coaching football and gymnastics teams.

Ms. Roberts enjoys additional fame, and notoriety, as an actress, model, beauty queen, NASCAR driver, and cheerleader.  Of course, she enjoys dancing ballet, scuba diving, photography, gymnastics, and rap music in her leisure time.  She has been seen around town with her on-again, off-again paramour, Ken Carson.   And, despite an amiable split in 2004, they still make time to see each other casually.

Yes, Ms. Roberts has had a busy, amazing life.  She is a role model for thousands of little girls, regardless of hair color (because, admittedly, her hair color has changed a bit over the years).

Unfortunately, you will probably never hear about Ms. Roberts great deeds or soaring career trajectory because most of the “lame stream” media spends their time demonizing her for setting unrealistic expectations for little blondies.  These blonde bashers discount all of Ms. Roberts skills, training, and work as if no blonde could ever accomplish that much in her lifetime.

I, as one blonde, want to say shame on the blonde bashers.  It’s that kind of negativity, not Ms. Roberts’ inexplicably meteoric rise to fame and power that dooms us to inferior careers and lesser pay.  I believe that we blondies can be whatever we want!  We can be doctors, lawyers, veterinarians, President of the United States… just as long as we can stand in 4 inch heels and can’t bend our elbows.

 

Ms. Barbara Millicent Roberts or, as you probably know her, Barbie.

Ms. Barbara Millicent Roberts or, as you probably know her, Barbie.

 

 

 


#35: Lowlights

Unless you have been living in a fashion vacuum for the last decade, e.g. the Midwest, you know what highlights are.  You may have even dabbled in highlights yourself (I am looking at you anyone who ever had the “Rachel” haircut).   As a brunette, you may not have heard of low lights.  But I have; constantly.

People are always trying to recruit me to the ranks of the bottled and add highlights to my flaxen mane; that is until they realize that I would have to dye my hair white to have highlights.  That’s when they have the bright idea of adding low lights.

According to colorists,  “low lights add dimension with strands of darker color.”   The process is so simple even a blonde like me can figure it out:  “Take thin to think strands of hair and darken them  at least two shades darker than the rest of your hair.”  Unfortunately, I am not one to turn to my colorist for my definitions because 1) I don’t have one and 2) if I did, I am sure she would define moving back in with her ex-convict boyfriend, Snake, once he gets out of jail as a “good idea.” (Note to reader:  This is not a good idea.)

Instead, I get my definitions from a more reliable source, Merriam Webster.  That Merriam sure knows a lot about everything, she is so smart.  She has got to be a brunette.  Anyway, good ole’ Ms. Webster defines low lights as “ a particularly bad or unpleasant event, detail, or part.”

Which begs the question:  Why would I want to add “a particularly bad or unpleasant” part to my glorious gilded tresses?

Low lights are like going to see your favorite band in concert and then asking them, politely, to turn it down.  It kind of defeats the purpose.

 

crank it