Yesterday after sitting in my car wondering why it wouldn't start for 20 minutes and frantically texting my husband, I eventually came to the realization that I had somehow tripped the alarm (this became obviously apparent once I noticed the flashing blue "alarm light" between my legs). I guess if the car alarm is on while you are in the car it won't start - who knew?). That light bulb moment brought me back to a few other blonde moments in my life - I can only blame the hundreds of boxes of L'oreal that I have used over the years.
- Immediately after graduating from college, I got a job working in the Reservations Office of an upscale hotel. Among the many challenges I faced, was learning the new, ultra-confusing technology known as "E-mail" ("oh, this will never last, it's soo impersonal," I remember thinking) and the ever-frightening "fax machine'. Always on top of my game, for the first few months, whenever I sent an outgoing fax I always methodically sent two copies of my fax (one for me to keep and the other for the recipient to keep) - my blonde rationale was that one copy would somehow miraculously float through a time/space portal and land in the hands of the person on the other end of the line. it wasn't until a coworker noticed what I was doing and bent over in a heap of laughter did I realize how a fax machine actually worked.
- Leaving my dad's sports car in "neutral" (with the keys in it) while I went in to pay for gas (this was long before the ever-convenient 'pay-at-the-pump', back in the dark ages when you had to actually walk to a bullet-proof plastic window and pay for gas in person). After paying the clerk I turned around to discover a blank space at the pump where the car once had been. Then I saw it, out of the corner of my eye slowly rolling backwards downhill towards a busy intersection. I sprang forth faster than TJ Hooker on speed and got to my car just before it rolled into the intersection. Lucky me, the car was intercepted by a giant metal sandwich-board gas sign (toting $0.83 per gallon prices). The sign was knocked over, but a 40 car pile up was averted. As a crowd gathered (pointing and laughing) I hopped behind the driver's seat and made like Danica Patrick at the Indy 500.
- Pulling a Christian Bale-like rant on my coworkers when my stapler had gone missing for the umpteenth time. "Who keeps stealing by God-damned stapler?" I huffed. Hours later when it was quitting time, I reached in my bag to get my car keys only to discover my stapler staring back at me. Clearly, in addition to being a dumb blonde, I am also an amnesiac kleptomaniac.
- Locking my keys in the car while it was running, done more times than I can count back in the 80's. Obviously I'm not the only blonde who's done this. Today car makers have designed automobiles that won't lock if the keys are in the ignition. Genius!
There are so many more blonde moments I could mention, but that would involve way too much brain activity. Besides, I've got a new episode of Sober House waiting on my Tivo and I'm not getting any younger.