The One About Blondes Really Do Have More Fun

Category: weekleez

the one about blondes really do have more fun
October, 22, 2002

hi kids,

first, thanks to all of you great people who wish me a happy birthday! no, not the weekly birthday, my actual birthday. i’m an actual person you know! with an actual birthday! i’m not just the weekly! no i’m not! i’m real! i have feelings!
no, no i don’t.

second, my boss keeps whining that she doesn’t have cool spy name even though she’s given me lots of things like a hand-made scarf, two key chains, a huge kickass book of origami, and recently a harvard t-shirt that she bought me on her trip to boston. so i guess i owe her a nick, eh?
kelly farley. your new spy club name, should you choose to accept it (and if you don’t tough teabags), is…
hydrogen molly! she’s the club teetotaler and time keeper of all the hopscotch games.

third, if you ever get a chance to eat a home-cooked meal at dan and florrie noojin’s house…do it. florrie is awesome! she made corn pudding! what is corn pudding?! i don’t know! i’d never heard of such a beast! but it was the most delicious thing!

so anyway i recently had a birthday y’know? and so what i did was took the day off from work, which was monday. well the thing is, and this is the thing, all of my buddies were at work on monday. so there i was all alone on my birthday. which is fine y’know, ’cause i was planning to do some much needed shopping. but y’see the thing is, and this is the thing, the day before (sunday) i had to go and buy a new toner cartridge for my laser printer. well dang. that totally drained my day of birthday shopping, that biznitch cost me 100 bucks. feh. i hate you laser printer. o glorius printer how i hate thee.

so there i was all alone and basically poor on my birthday. so i thought to myself, “eh, i might as well dye my hair today since i’ve all this extra time.” and i had seen this far-out electric pink at the hair store so i thought that that would be a perfect color for my 25th year of life on this giant dirt heap. ok, but now the thing is, and this is the thing, that pink is really, really light, think pepto, and my hair is slightly, um, blue…so i figured i’d have to bleach my noggin first.

can you believe that i’ve never had to actually bleach my hair before? all the other purples and pinks have been these special kits that bleach the hair and deposit the color all in one sitting. i am clueless about the bleach. so i went in to the hair store fully intending to ask whichever fake blonde is working the counter to point to the thing that she uses and maybe ask some questions. but when i get there and grab the awesome pink i noticed a bleaching kit that was like, “my first bleaching kit” or “bleaching for morons” and i thought, “perfect!” so i made my purchase. i was ready.

but now the thing is, and this is the thing, i always have trouble dyeing the back of my head, ’cause i can’t see it. even when i use two mirrors and a midget i still can’t tell what the heck i’m doing. and there i am all alone on my birthday. so i called the only other person who i knew was not at work at the moment: my dad.
well, dad was all, “sure i’ll help ya with the back of your head, but then i have to install some cabinets at this lady’s house but yeah, come on over. i’ll bleach your head.”
dad’s cool like dat.

so dad and i are playing “beauty shop” and i really think he enjoyed it a lot. he talked with a lisp and said things like, “tho margie came in yethterday and wath all, ‘can you believe what betty thaid to thuthie?’ ohmeegaw! i know! anyway i think i’m going to preth thome wild flowerth after thith.” so then he went and fixed some cabinets while i let the harsh nuke-u-lar chemicals do their thing.

<tangent> my hair was blue the other day and i had to stop at a certain flell station that i believe i’ve mentioned before and the crazy hag was working, of bloody course, and she looked at me and i swear to you she said, “what color is your hair today?”
oh come on!
how many colors came in your box of crayolas, lady?!
and then this guy that’s been standing around says to her, “hay, that’s the girl what put the steekers on the side of mah truck!”
oh god in heaven no, crazy gas station hag AND a customer?! it’s just not fair sometimes.
i snatched my change from the crazy hag’s insane fingers and ran to my car. </tangent>

so after an hour i check my bleaching hair in the mirror and whoa, i think it worked. so i go and rinse (that’s rench for some of you southerners) my hair out and then i put this uber-conditioner on it for several minutes in hopes that some of the precious oils and nutrients that i’ve so crudely burned from my hair will be replaced, and then i rinsed that out too and there i am with a towel on my head drying off my very short, very blonde hair and i hear this sound…it’s like music. it’s like, club music. in my bathroom.

i jerked the towel off my head. what the…
“what the…” lights are flashing and music is thumping.
omg, there’s a rave going on in my bathroom!
this lady walks by and hands me a blue drink off of a tray, winks and says, “welcome to the club!”
“whuh?.. who??”
the dj is spinnin’ some crazy tunes and people are totally groovin’ to the beat. but this is my bathroom. what’s going on? maybe i hit my head on the sink or something and i’m really passed out on the floor and this is a dream…
so i stopped this guy that was walking by and said, “hey man, where am i?”
he stared at my chest and said, “hey pretty lady, wanna dance?”
“no thank you. how do i get out of here?”
he pointed me toward the door.
i got out of there pronto.

so there i am in my bedroom with the towel in my hand. i’m staring at the towel thinking, “this towel is important. why?” oh yeah! my head is all wet! so i start to dry off my wet blonde head again when all of a sudden i hear someone behind me clearing his throat. huh, dad’s fixing someone’s cabinets…probably just a serial killer or elf or something. *gasp*
i throw the towel off my head and quickly pose myself in a very threatening, very fake ninjitsu stance.

there’s a bell-boy standing behind me holding a box of balloons and a bunch of candies. er. you know what i mean.
“h-how did you…g-get in here?”
“hey sweet-cheeks these are for you from your admirer.”
“what? what are you talking about? where did you come from? did you even knock?…”
then he stares at my chest and says, “bet you have a lot of admirers doncha?”
“what?! hey stop that! my eyes are here buddy!”
“huh? sorry. wanna go for a drink?”
“wufuh? no! now get out!”
he shrugged and left.

while the bell-boy was walking down the front steps my dad pulls up and is all, “wow! your hair ith tho thweet! awethome! ith it true?”
ha ha dad. “is what true?”
“well,” he says, “are you having more fun yet?”
oh god that can’t be…

train of thought derailed i look up and see this guy pulling up in the driveway on a motorcycle.
“ms. pickle?”
“what are you selling?” i ask.
“ha ha. good one! here’s your invitation to the ultra-hip mega party tonight.”
“what are you talking about?”
“i guess i’ll pick you up around eight? wear a jacket ’cause we’re taking my harley!”
“what?! who are you? i’m not-”
“later babe” he said and rode off.

“wow,” dad said, “that blonde hair really makes your eyes stand out!”
“yeah, my eye brows look like black caterpillers crawling very slowly across my forehead.”

so anyway, the last two days have been packed with parties and booze. i guess blondes do have more fun. it’s crazy random fun anyway, i mean, there i was making signs at work right? all of a sudden this dude comes in and says, “hey! wanna do some shooters?”
“what? oh my gosh, you have to leave! i’m at work!”
“psht, let’s just do one shooter? ok? please?”
“kelly! help!”
my boss comes in and is all, “what’s the problem? oh, the blonde thing again?”
i nodded, “yeah. sorry boss.”

anyway it sure was hard getting any work done what with the phone ringing off the hook with guys (and even a few girls) asking me out. sheesh. being a blonde is really tough.

ok so maybe none of that really happened. but that doesn’t mean that blondes don’t really have more fun. in fact, it’s been scientifically proven in this incredibly scientific chart that laura made up for me.


*blue hair as in old peeps with blue hair; not cool peeps with blue hair.
fun has been put into the sonic measurement of decibels because it
seemed like a good idea at the time.

as you can see by the imaginary chart above, people with plain ol’ brown hair have the least amount of decibels of fun. we think this has to do with the brown hair. surprisingly, blue hairs have twice as much fun as the brown haired shemps. i know this for a fact because i have brown hair and it seems like all the old people i come in contact with have at least 2x the fun i have. the black haired peeps seem to have slightly more fun than red-heads, and we think that’s because there are more actual brunettes than true red-heads, most red-heads being brown haired shemps with a monthly dye job.
now looking at the fake chart above we can see that blondes have like, way more decibels of fun than any other color noggin. we don’t know why. all we know is that the chart does not lie. it’s a chart. with numbers. so it must be real.

but anyway you’re saying, “jaimie, i thought you were going to dye your hair that awesome tricked-out pink, yo?”
werd! that’s right! but see, this blonde thing is really funny so i’m going to wait a couple of days before i pink up my hair.
way to pay attention to detail, g!

the toughest part about being blonde so far is that my family and friends have been calling me blondie. and every time i make a mistake they mutter, “dumb blonde.”
hey! it’s only been a couple of days for cryin’ out loud!

i was talking to jimmy at lunch today and said, “wow, with this blonde color and shaggy/spikey cut, i’m like marylin and liza put together! i’m like a gay man’s dream!” he didn’t think it was nearly as funny as i did.

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