Its Not Time to Be Qiuet

It is not the time to be congenial or charming. It is time for the Blonde to stand up and speak!!

Did Martin Luther King stop his speeches because of threats?

Did Bobby Kennedy give in to fear?

Did anyone worthy of a voice of peace and hope and truth cave into malicious attacks on their person?


And neither will I.

I have been guilty of pandering to those around me to speak a softer mind, to be funnier, to be more congeal in my attacks on society and personal encounters; but no more!!

I have had enough of the passive aggressive society I live in and I am going to turn this world upside down and find the good in all of you, with the tough love you need!!

I am sick of placating to a world that won't take responsibility!

Learn to play chess!

Learn Newton's law of physics!!

Learn science!

Learn all religions!

Learn other culture!

Learn, learn, learn!!

Blondes can't teach a stupid crowd!

Love in the Time of.....


It is the time now, and then, and forever beyond. It has no limits and I fear my only curse on this earth is that I let myself love all of earth's creatures; including man.

And man is the saddest let down of all!!

I love animals so much that I worry every time it freezes, because I know there are people that chain their pets to a fence or won't let them in the house when its cold because they are allergic to them. I wonder why they have to hurt them? Why must they own an animal that they call a family pet but treat it like a rodent.

Please don't teach an animal to be sufficient on your love, when you have no love to give them!!

I hate zoo's because I see wild animals that committed no crime being locked up and fenced in an environment that makes them a novelty to human society. I thought we have out grown the age of the elephant man, but we haven't grown at all.

Evolution should be that which evolves us to a better understanding of all creatures, but we can only see ourselves; our selfish selves!!

We don't care how the cow is killed, only how the steak tastes.

We don't care how the homeless survive, just as long as they don't live near us.

We don't care to change the world, we care only that our children cash in on our new found dough and we teach them that they are above others who don't have as much.

I really think parents are missing the point of Darwin's theory. The jock without a brain dating the pretty girl with a Prada bag equals another idiot born into society.

Footballs and handbags only go so far!!

What a shame that you think your kid is here to right some wrong that you suffered as a child.

Our children live off of our insecurity and continue the sad notion of some antiquated thought on God. We are stuck in believing in a bible that was only written to secure the power of a church and its belief of chastising those that don't fit the norm.

The rapture, if it comes, is not to cleanse the unrighteous, but to cleanse the righteous from this earth, so the humble and beautiful within, can find security in a place without judgment and live an equal existence to everything in nature as it should be.

The bible is a blasphemy to God and all his creatures.

You know what bothers me the most about loving this world? It is the fact that every living creature other than man has found their Utopia on this earth. Every creature, other than man, only takes what they need to survive and live happy.

They do not invade.
They do not steal
They do not rape
They do not murder
They do not torture
They do not enslave
They do not have anger
They do not have revenge
They do not have a bible

We as humans should hope for our distinction for the survival of species that has and always will be superior to us!!

The bible was not written by God but by man that wants control!!

Heaven is for those who know, their life is equal to all the species God gave life to!!!

The Blonde does not believe in man's religion and wonders why humans can not evolve past a piece of fiction!!


If You Don't Have Anything Nice To Say

you shouldn't say anything at all.

I think I am going to take that advice and chill on the blog until I can find my funny again.

Lately I have been suffering allergies and working double time in the blogosphere and it is beginning to make me a little cranky, as evident by my recent posts.

I am going to settle in new lanscape this weekend and take a rest.

The Blonde's mouth is on holiday!!

Cut the Thread

How the heck do I stop a thread? I made the mistake of commenting on one little thing about children and parents and now I have to suffer the consequences of the idiotic responses emailed to me.
My comment was made in reference to a Mother that chastised little girls for wearing t-shirts that say "Girls rule, Boys drool". Personally I find that cute and funny but I am not a menopausal woman with a four year old.

As far as my opinion meter getting the best of me...I would have to say it was the use of the words hussy and street walker to describe the latest tween fashion.

Are you sure your not the Grandma?

In response to thongs being sold at the GAP for kids, I can agree. But only because I think thongs are stupid in general. Thongs are a gold mine to retail. You make something that costs less than 10 cents and sell it for $20, promote it as the newest and greatest thing and women will grab hold of it.

I wish I thought of a way to sell lace scraps as underwear and make a fortune!!

The beginning of the blog actually started because the meno Mom and her husband couldn't get over the fact tweens were texting through dinner at the table adjacent to them. My question was; if your such a great family unit, why do you need to occupy dinner conversation judging other people?

Whenever my sisters and I had a complaint about someone's behavior at the dinner table my Mother would say, "Look at your own plate."

Brilliant advice Mum!!!

Sometimes I want to scream at the stupidity of people and ask that they not breed until they pass a parent aptitude test. Unfortunately, they don't have one.



Can I make the test?!!


Pretty please with dumb parents on top?!!

I went nuts when a thread of a 'tech savvy Mom' suggesting they text along with their kid as a way of keeping it real.


Have parents gone AWALL?

Stop having kids in between your hot flashes.

I swear to Gah there is such a thing as too old...Larry King!!

If a parent thinks they are in tune with their tween because they are savvy enough to master a download that will program their iphone to send them a text, reminding them to smile at their kid every four hours...I can understand why the Mayans stopped the clock at 2012.

Blondes hope the rapture unravels the fabric!!


On Edge

I am in a weird mood tonight, I can not seem to relax and I am on edge. My cat Lela, either feels my angst or she is feeling something in the air as well. Like a cattle hound, she roped all the cats into my bedroom and stood next to a door that was inadvertently unlocked. Now she is checking the inside perimeter of the house.

I have to locate her before she shiats on something.

Blondes usually like being edgy!!!


The Blonde Feminist

I recently read a post about "What Women Want?", written by a man commenting on the works of a new and upcoming female sexologist. To the journalists credit, he found the study as inconsequential as I did.

I don't even know how you end up with a doctorate in Sexology? I looked on the web and it seems to me you can just claim it without a degree. After all, what university is going to teach sex as a main course, other than the Kinsey Institute and we know what a perv he was!

The article doesn't question what women want-that's just the title- it questions our motivation for sex. In other words, how can the sexologist sell her findings to a pharmaceutical company to enhance female lust.

The sexologist failed to comment whether the women were married, single, young, old, fat, thin, pretty, or ugly. She failed to say her findings were anything but a red line of data on her hard drive after plugging in comment cards from willing participants who watched videos while strapped to a contraption measuring body response.

I must admit, I skimmed most of the dribble, but I read enough to arouse my opinion. You can read it as well:


The comments are even more enlightening.

The article suggests women are more emotional in their desire for sex. I certainly know how emotional I feel when I turn on my neck massager.

Using a vaginal plethysmograph to measure blood flow after watching sex of different orientations sends data to a computer which is later interpreted to a graph of bologna. Maybe its not arousal but the sensation of being embarrassed watching gay porn with wires clipped to your tutu. I can't bring myself to watch Brokeback Mountain let alone watch two guys getting it on donkey kong style. Don't get me wrong, I have lots of gay friends but I tell them, just like I tell my hetero friends, "You can't have sex on my coffee table when guests are around."

The whole premise of the study is to discover why women are sexually dysfunctional. We are not dysfunctional just because we can't keep up with the abnormalities of a 24/7 hard on induced by Viagra.

Stop making women feel inadequate with your Kinsey Freak reports. I can tell you as a single woman, I have just as much drive as a man. Now, if I were idiot enough to get married under the femi-natzi 'having it all' guide book, you can bet; dropping down naked in a sexual fantasy for my husband after I worked all day, shuffled the kids to and fro, cooked and cleaned until the Late Show came on..your damn right their would be a dis in my sexual function.

We don't need sexologists telling us we suck because we don't suck enough. We don't need Glaxo to come up with a pill. We don't need to watch baboons getting it on to see if we feel like getting it on. We need a new attitude about ourselves.

You know what Women want?

They want to look in the mirror every day and say, "Damn!! I look good!!"

Which is a pretty hard thing to come by when the media and the online dating sites makes you feel like a worthless old heifer after the age of 28 and wear anything over a size 2.

The Blonde will see you now!!

Michelle Obama is not a Fashion Icon

unless you are a fan of frumpy. Not to be a jerk but someone has to poop on the parade, so it will be me.

I do not know how the First Lady will do on a whole but I am hoping for the same feather ruffling as my girl Hillary. And while I am excited about her taking on the task at hand, fashion is not her forte, so let's not give credit, where credit it isn't due. The Huffington Post is way too biased in their selection of feel good commentary on this very subject.

Michelle, while a smart, hip, and go getting woman, is hardly what I would call a fashionista. At the Ball, she was awkward and didn't know how to properly scoop up the back of the dress to dance. The dress seemed a tiresome act of fashion faux pas; a ruffled, worn out sheath that did not fit the style of a post feminist African American woman. I think she was more suited to wear a structured sheath constructed with sass and vibrant colors to match the truth of her allure. She is a strong woman that can not wear feminine lingerie in public. That damn dress should have stayed on the dreary white 90 lbs. mannequin in the window.

I would like to think the dress was a politically smart move chosen on Michelle's part but after researching the designer and his history, I have to say no. Jason Wu was born into a well to do import/export family that afforded him the luxury of studying abroad, by way of Canada in order to study in the U.S., and then landed as an understudy to Narciso Rodriguez before starting his own line with his parent's backing. Certainly not a tale of 'rags to riches' one likes to hear.

I hope this isn't a glimpse into how the roots of a solid begginning can be easily smothered by the corruption of power and money.

As far as the yellow 'Kennedy' copycat number during the parade...I just have to say..not every democrat elect needs to be equated with the Kennedy era. The Clintons didn't have it and the Obamas don't either; but why would they? Neither of them grew up with silver spoons in their mouth like John and Jackie.

I think white mainstream media is so afraid of coming off racist, that they make themselves look like idiots. They pat themselves on the back for comparing the Obama's to the Kennedy's'.Oh Please!!!

To me, you should have compared them to a better family, like the Kings!!

Jackie fixed up the white house and made the pillbox hat a hot ticket. Coretta Scott King was too busy carrying on the message of freedom to care if she made the cover of Vogue. Michelle would be better off studying the styles of women that fit her stature; not that of the fashion militia and mainstream media.

Real women have a style that transcends, why have mainstream dress them like Barbies, when they can dress themselves, so much more eloquently!!

And for the record, Aretha can wear any damn hat she wants!

Cutting Back

Every day I get out of the shower, blow dry my hair and take scissors to my bangs. If I keep it up, I am going to have that caterpillar look I had in 5th grade.

I can't get the few hundred hairs, lying in the middle of my forehead, to conform to what I want. I don't know why hair needs to have a life of its own, afterall, they are dead cells. Its an oxymoron for my hair to act this way.

Its even more moronic that I can't leave the hairs alone. Why do I think I can threaten their existence with a scissor when they are already dead. What do they care if they are on my head or flushed away in the toilet to swim the great ocean?

I have to hide my scissors.

You think it would be hard to hide something from yourself, but my Mother does it all the time with a near perfect track record. It is one of the many super powers of a Blonde.

Blondes need to let things grow!!



After more than enough entertaining the past week, I am happily tucked into my closet sized hacienda with a new batch of chick flicks to occupy my time. I will probably stay up until the wee hour of the morn with a big box of tissue and a bottle of vino, watching love unfold, like only Hollywood can deliver.

Blondes like a good love story!!


An Inaugural Hickie

I spent the inauguration with my New York guy. For the rest of my life, I will equate the inauguration of our first caucasion-less president, as the day I found my neck bruised from a kiss by NY G.

I do not know where we will end up. We may have very well seen the last of each other; I do not know, but it is exciting, just to wonder at the possibility.

Beginnings are always a fabulous enigma, because we hold open the door to everything that is good. We, as humans, think that every new opportunity offers the very key to our happiness. We never enter into the 'new' without the hope of a great outcome, except when we grow older and understandably hold history under our wing; carrying it as a weight that reminds us we can no longer fly with the reckless abandonment of youth and innocence. At the later stages of our perception, we find life too cruel a world, filled with empty promises, that are eager to burn us. But, as evident in our elections; as hardened as we may seem, we always hold out the feather's chance to be reborn from the ashes and rise like a gryphon, anxious to fly again.

In retrospect, Barack doesn't have many more challenges to face than I do. He is coming in as the new girlfriend on the back heels of a self serving, profiteering, gold digging and destructive biatch (current admin), that would make Kevin Federline look like Mother Teresa. Barack will have to prove himself--enduring all the scrutiny and skepticism of a new suitor going after someone who has pulled out of one too many bad engagements.

My taste for successful and slightly older gents leaves me open to the same obstacles to climb. I am already scuffing the tops of my pointed toe, designer pumps, on the recounts of EXs gone bad, way before the main course hits our table. For me, the limitations of the relationship with these gents are not lines drawn in the sand...

OH, NO!!!

They are lines drawn on my napkin with a medium point Sharpie!!

But, I will overcome!!

If the American Peeps can overcome, so can I!!

And you know why?!

Because, as hardened and disillusioned as the last administration made the citizens of this great nation feel; it only took one great first date (campaign) with a charismatic lawyer to make the status quo discover they were in love with their country again. And I may fall short of being a love interest for any of the men I am currently seeing, but just knowing they invested enough time and effort to pursue a first date with me, leaves me with the great satisfaction of knowing they are open to the 'NEW', and the greatness of being with a Blonde.

I may not be the answer to living happily ever after but I am definitely the cliff notes on how it should be.

The Blonde hopes everyone will overcome!!!

Omni Hotel, Downtown Austin

I have been spending my weekends in downtown Austin hotels while hosting some out of town guests to spare a DWI. I have to say while I find most of the rooms similar, I have to give kudos to the Omni for tucking a magic wand in the room, behind the bed.

I am fairly certain it was left by a very liberal and over zealous couple, but still I must give the kudos to the Omni and its cleaning crew for the good sense to leave it behind for the discovery to be made by a Blonde who blogs. I made careful effort to sanitized the wand before the photo op was made and for general curiosity. Of course I turned it on; all I can say is it is way too powerful a tool to be using it on any sensitive part of the female anatomy.

After testing my new treasure, I feel certain warning label should be affixed to it, such as:

Sexual use of this toy may hinder the effects of any future love endeavors with a human sexual organ.

This toy has the power of humming a twat clear off in less than 10 seconds.

Intimate knowledge of this wand will make anything that does not vibrate, virtually obsolete.

Wetting of this toy may cause electrical shock!!

Blondes will never use power tools, again!!


Don't Panic

Blondie is Busy Updating her Look...Please be Patient!!

Essential Oils

Oh yes!!

Rub it on!

Rub it in


Yes, Yes, Yes!!!!

Oh that feels good!!!!!


Oh, ohhhhh....

I have been rubbing essential oils on me to keep the allergies away and surprisingly enough, they really work.

Peppermint oil rubbed on my neck keeps headaches away.

Chamomile oil rubbed all over my body helps sensitive skin.

Lavender on a cotton puff, gently rubbed on my eyelids stops the itching.

Now all I need is a beach, a man, and a mai tai!!!

Of course, with all this yummy flavored oil on my skin, I could be stuffed, skewered and twisted on a pit and made into a tasty treat to be served up at a private luau for the right guy with the right bungalow!!

Blondes are really slick!!


Slick Willies

Last night I had a date with Bird. I call him Bird because his hair is really fine and sticks out like down on a baby duck. It is really cute the way he tries to pat it down.


Bird took me to a pool hall.

Yes, a pool hall!

Surprisingly, it was a lot of fun. I felt like I had played this kind of game before.


How to play pool:

Have a few drinks

bend over

spread your legs

poke your rear up

hold the stick

smoothly stroke the stick

smack the ball

balls go in and out of the hole

do this several times until your tired

then have one more drink

talk for a bit

and then go home.

Blondes like playing with men!!


Private Matters

I know I write about many of my dating escapades and for some gentlemen that might be a worrisome proposition, but they need not be so concerned. I offer the moratorium contract to el finito bonds. I have no intention of burning bridges and racking up a super sized tab of bad karma.

No one wants to be splattered on someone's diaretic (diary-therapy) blog and there are always two truths to the stories and the reality in between. I hate girls that rant about bad relationships, as if they had no participation in the matter. Doesn't it get a bit old to play the helpless victim routine. If someone treats you like a dish rag and are able to identify the situation well enough to write in explicit detail about it, than aren't you a total tool yourself for staying at the table washing up the slop you so clearly can see?!!

I wait at least 3 months before writing about past affairs out of respect for the relationship and to give me time to dissect my part in the plot. No matter how awry it went...in the beginning it was good and whomever I was with will be a faded but never too distant memory and I would like to think it wasn't all a hideous waste of time. I am certainly not going to trash anyone who was there for me. I will tell it like I see it but names, dates, and location are hidden well beneath the radar. I write the lesson in the story not the fault or blame.

Some affairs I never write about. After all, my Mother reads my blog. I can't have her thinking I am not the total lady, that she raised me to be, at all times!

Hi Mom...just kidding...you know I am innocent!!

And the rest of you are reading...

this way...

Keep reading...

Now that were past the relationship disclaimer side of things, lets get into the nitty gritty of what is not covered under the bylaws of the blog:

Dates that fail to deliver their goods as pictured in the catalog!! Don't send a photo representing 20 years your junior or 20 lbs your lighter self and show up looking like Uncle Fester or Bob Barker. The light bulb will go off, and the price isn't right!!

Everything else is fair game!!!

Blondes are explicit!!


The Sweet and Sour of Arm Candy

Would you think it’s a special relationship if the guy said he would dump you if he ever had to beg for a blowjob? I am sure a man would find it special to get an 'on demand' oral, but to a Blonde, this kind of statement sums up the character of the man I was seeing and just how special he thought I was.

Arm Candy is expendable!!

He has told me numerous times to look internally at the fault of our break up and I have come to the conclusion that we were equally to blame for this train wreck. He asked me to move in so quickly that we really never had the time to get to know each other. I found myself in a stranger's house trying to make the best of it. I wrote most of the time, sipping a bottle of wine throughout the day and finding I really had no connection to this guy I just moved in with.

He spent the day downstairs working, napping off his zanax, and asking for command oral performances, whenever I walked in the room.

Arm Candy has no other purpose!!

I was playing a blind man’s sport to catch what mood he might be in anytime during the day and I felt as if I had to walk on eggshells throughout the whole affair. Anytime we had a conversation, he would inevitably misinterpret things I would say, so I became frustrated and I just ended up letting him believe it was all my error just to save the peace.

Arm Candy should not have original thoughts!!

He sent me home from a holiday just because I had the audacity to joke around that I was bored and lonely having to tour the town alone while he napped.

Arm Candy does not have the right to complain!!

He was a very serious man with little humor in him and my free spirited and flaky mouth seemed to irritate him. He had little tolerance for my personality or anything beyond my being pretty.

Arm candy should just sit and look sweet.

I learned a very valuable lesson the hard way. You cannot rush into a relationship and expect an easy transition into a long term commitment without having a full understanding of each other to be able to create a harmonious communion.

I also learned that being Arm Candy is hard to swallow!!

The Blonde will find the yin to her yang eventually!!


Shooting Blanks

By the forces of nature and Mother Nature herself, my creative energy has been zapped. I have stared blankly at this page for more than a hour trying to come up with something witty or profound to say.

I have so much on my mind that I can't think.

There just went another 10 minutes of staring at the blank page.

and another...

and another....

The Blonde needs to unload soon!!


Bouncing Back

I finally got up, double dose my Claritin, turned off the tube, plugged in my tune box for some swing jazz to get the blood pumping through my pathetic self and headed straight to the ladies maintenance shed for a beauty tune up.

And then I called on a date for tonight.

I refuse to deal with allergies anymore. Griping about it won't make them go away, however,
going on a date with someone who can fly me to any destination that doesn't have cedar trees will.

Finding a solution to a problem is far more productive than complaining about it. I know everyone needs a little grief time, but after awhile you have to say enough is enough, get up and fix it whether it be allergies, work, relationships, or the electronic can opener that always squirts the tuna juice everywhere when you try to unhook the can.

Blondes jump at the chance to travel!!

Sick Thoughts

I have been trying desperately to float my mind out of the pool of phlegm its been drowning in for the last week.

My vocal chords are resonating the sounds of Elmer Fudd's voice.

I only have use of one nostril at a time.

My body is so loaded with sinus and allergy meds that I am drying out to a prunish existence.

I have been too foggy to write, to transfer money, to pay bills, and attend to my social life which is teetering on the borderline of extinction.

I would write more but unfortunately this is all I have to give today.

The Blonde is not feeling well!!


Twinkle, Twinkle

little star,
How I wonder what you are!
Up above the world so high,
Like a diamond in the sky!

Little girls in ponytails,
dreaming of fairy tales,

and happily ever after endings.

The pigtails are long gone but not the dreams of being someone's Princess. Women have grown up on the fantasy of Prince Charming and the obstacles we must face in order to have him.

Cinderella had to get to a ball,
Sleeping Beauty had to learn to spin yarn,
and Snow White needed to tan her fair skin.

and then Prince Charming would come and rescue them and they would live happily ever after.



Like the Lost gospel of Judas, Disney hid the truth of the real fairy tales under reels and reels of the modified versions, their cover up was only recently discovered, exposing the truth behind the torrid world of fairy tales.

The Lost Ending ( edited for quick copy; original to be out in hardback):

Cinderella learned about Snow, Snow learned about Sleeping, and Sleeping learned about Cinderella. They all got together and over a bottle or two of wine they discussed their revenge. For the Prince would be tricked into drinking a potion that would turn him into a toad. Unfortunately, do to their slight inebriation and miscalculations of some of the ingredients, the Prince was turned into a talking frog.

Alas, the Prince, still armed with his voice, charmed his way into a kiss from an unsuspecting young lady and soon was back to his old ways of philandering across fairy tales.

The truth behind the tale is always entertaining but even far more enlightening.

reach for the stars!!


Death by Tree

Cedar and a decaying Spruce has my face and eyes burning with an intensity you could only achieve by rubbing habenero pepper seeds on one's skin.

And why would anyone want to rub peppers on their skin?


For over a decade, I have had the distinct displeasure of suffering through the reign of terror of the male cedar tree sperm fest.

Upon immediate inhalation of the invisible pollination jizz causes a brain fog that sets in and dismantles my thought receptors. My body goes into lethargic mode, all except nose and eyes which go into hyperactive drain mode.

So why do I feel the need to add to my misery by suffering at my parents house, during the holidays and the annual drying out of the Christmas tree?

I have no idea.

I must be a sucker for punishment. I swear the tree is burning my skin to twice the normal levels that cedar trees can achieve, but my Father refuses to listen.

He loves his tree. Its not his tree that is causing the allergies. The tree stays until Monday. I can go but the tree stays! Meanwhile, I am floating around the house in a daze mumbling under my breath that the dying spruce is killing me.

To make matters worse, my Mother is spraying the tree with her concoction of lavender and green organic cleaner which she insists will help me.

What doesn't kill me will make me stronger!

The survival training I have received from both parents this holiday has given me the necessary techniques needed to live through a terrorist attack. I can snort anthrax like it was nose sugar, drink poison like it was sumptuous wine, and walk through a bomb like it was a spa mist room.

Blondes are a tough kill!!


The Meaning of New Years

We will write the wrong year on our checks for the next month and a half

Twice as many people will be working out in a sad attempt to achieve the top spot of resolutions

Department stores will log a significantly large number of returned bad present choices

Christmas tree carcasses will line neighborhood driveways until trash day

Scraggly old poinsettias will linger long after their expiration because of the pretty foil and ribbon

DWI lawyers will have an excess of clients to pacify

Credit card companies will hit the lottery on late fees

Novelty hats and tooters will collect dust until Valentines Days

and the maggly meated bone of the spiral ham will finally be tossed out

Welcome to 2009, where everything is new and nothing has changed!!