Recently, I took inventory of my pals and their hair color and after all these years I didn’t realize that most of them are blondes. Those who aren’t usually have at least a few highlights. As a group, I just adore them, possibly because they are generally happy-go-lucky girls and charming as puppies. Two of them recently relayed stories to me that are just too dang funny not to repeat.
Blonde #1 was describing an incident that took place at the gas pumps. She’s waiting her place in line, possible at a Wal-Mart where everybody and their dog is trying to buy gas these days and her attention begins to wander. She was probably cleaning out her purse or applying lipstick and the pump becomes open for a split second. As if from a scene in Fried Green Tomatoes, a gal whips in front of her, jumps out and starts pumping her gas. Blonde #1 is furious, but the pump directly NEXT to Miss Pump-Jumper becomes available and she pulls in and starts fueling her car while eyeing the interloper who just happens to be wearing a pink and green plaid blouse and turquoise shorts. My pal was raised right and rather than say something totally rude that her mamma would not approve of, she winks at the woman and says, “You know what? You don’t even match.” In my friend’s mind, this was the ultimate put-down.
My beloved and I spent this past weekend with Blonde #2 and her husband in Lovely Lubbock. Seems that last week, Blondie and her husband (let’s call him Dagwood just for fun) were doing some fine dining at Shrimp Galley on 82nd Street. Their friendly and very well endowed waitress hands them two menus and starts to chat. My friend, Blondie, is not very well endowed and any time she’s around someone who is, takes notice.
This particular waitress seemed especially proud of hers and was also wearing one of those little rubber bracelets that people wear these days touting a slogan or cause. This one was hot pink and said “Save the Boobies.” Perhaps it was the overall ambience of the Shrimp Galley or the fact that Blondie was all set to eat fish that caused her to ask this question as she pointed to the bracelet, “What kind of fish are Boobies?” It was all poor Dagwood could do to keep his composure while he explained to his bride that the bracelet was meant for breast cancer awareness, not to Free Willy or Save the Whales. Why in the world do people make up Blonde Jokes when the truth is just as funny?