No More Blonde Moments

I'll admit...I have my "blonde moments". I have quite a few blonde strands of hair within my dark brown locks (ok mostly from my acne medication...but dammit they're still there).

At least once a week, my brain departs from my head and I say/do something incredibly...well stupid.

Like the times I walk to the WRONG car & wonder why my keys are not working. No seriously, I'll stand there for like a hot second wondering why I hear the car unlocking...yet the doors won't open. And yes this has happened more than once--one of my strongest dumb blonde moment.

(I won't mention the countless almost arguments that have developed when the REAL car owner walks on the scene.)

Or the time I locked myself in the bathroom stall. I couldn’t get the latch to open and I had to be walked through how to re-open the door.

Or the time I hopped on the wrong train and after 5 stops realized I was on the wrong train.

But for the most part, I think I am a rational minded person...aside from those lapses in judgment. At least I recognize my own dumb blonde moments.
But this well takes the cake.

A couple of weekends ago, my friends and I decided to hit the streets for some good old partying.

I intended not to drink alcohol, as I am weaning myself from drinking every single time I go out. As I’m on yet another diet I was trying to avoid alcoholic drinks like the plague.

I failed.

I was good "pretending" to drink for quite a few hours before a dumb blond associate (and even being called an associate is a stretch--me and old girl have NOTHING in common--she's a messy, dramatic female with serious ATTENTION WHORE/WHORE characteristics...and well, I'm not lol) decided to irritate me so bad I needed a drink.

So I'm sipping WATER for the past few hours, cleverly disguises as vodka/pineapple juice (a dark club coupled with excellent fake drunk acting) and no one is the wiser. I’m even nursing the water like I do my drinks.

Until DBA (Dumb Blonde Associate) made an attempt to sip from my cup.

Now if she was a friend, she would have known rule number 1 is: never sip directly from my cup or straw. The ONLY people who are exempt from eating/drinking using the same utensils are my husband, my parents and my nieces/nephews.

NO ONE else is allowed to put a lip on my stuff. I have a fear of germs and an even bigger fear of cold sores. I think I have pretty lips and the last thing I want is a random cold sore sprouting on my lips because that’s all I focus on when I see a person with one.

I’m shuddering just thinking about a cold sore.

And while I am far from innocent and as best I try to ignore rumors/gossips (we went to the same university) I don’t ignore rumors/gossip about STDs. And DBA had quite a few circulating in our college days.

Before I could even yank my hand away, she had gotten a hold of my cup and took a sip.

Instantly I did not want the drink anymore.

Now given that it was plain old water in my cup, I mean I had to beg the bartender for it as he did not compute that I wanted a plain old cup of water, you would think that she would have noticed it was, well, water, since she had been throwing back Patron since we walked into the club.

But no…

DBA: Oh wow, that was so good? What is that? Now I want some.
ME: Oh…it’s um water.

DBA: Really? What’s it mixed with?

ME: *are you f*cking serious face* its water. I mean it’s…well water. It’s not mixed with anything.

DBA: *rolls eyes* I mean duh, I know that but what is it mixed with?

ME: It’s WATER! It’s mixed with nothing but ice cubes.

DBA: I should order one at the bar. You think he’ll make me one?

ME: *sigh* I need a shot.

DBA: Ooh yeah let’s do shots. We can get shots of this *points to my cup*

Dumb blondes drive me to drink. Thus I ended up drunk that night.

That wasn’t the first dumb blonde moment from DBA. Oh there were others. So many in fact we made a drinking game of it…at the club. Needless to say everyone in the party were drunk at the end of the night…including DBA who drank to her own dinkiness.

Of course when she came up for air when not sucking face with a random guy she met at the bar. Clearly she is not scared of the HIV/AIDS numbers in DC.

I made a vow to curb my own blonde moments upon being in her company.

It’s been two weeks and counting…

I Hate...

*Tomatoes (but I love ketchup)

*Broccoli, cauliflower, potato salad & coleslaw

*Food juice, esp. when it touches other food on my plate.

*Bad hair days-I seem to suffer from them almost weekly.

*People who refuse to use their turn signal

*"How is married life" questions

*Wedgies that I can't immediately pull out

*Thongs-big asses & thongs does not mix. At least mine don't.

*PIGEONS (more like an irrational fear of those flying rats)

*Taking the back way into my apartment building since the front is currently undergoing renovations.

*When people call too early or too late and don't want a damn thing

*Being cold. I must keep a warm body temperature at all times.

*Mind games. I find them boring & repetitive.

*Running late. I like to be on time.

*Liars. Especially bad liars.

*People that are too hard pressed. I don't sweat people. Please stop hinting that I should.

*Men who suffer from PMS. I bleed from my vagina every month, what's your excuse?

*Most seafood dishes. I'm not a big fish eater.

*When people remain too hung up in past relationships. Better learn to brush it off.

*Unfinished basements.

*When people drive around 10-20 minutes looking for a parking spot. Screw that. I'm looking for the valet (one of few bougie things that I do).

*Spotting men with cold sores. Stock goes to zero instantly.

*Strangers who touch me on my purse arm to get my attention. That's instant fight stance-might think you're going for my purse.

*When men curse me out because I'm married. I'm sorry my husband unlinked the ball & chain from the microwave & allowed me to leave the house.

*Cold weather, esp. snow. Thanks a lot VA!!