On the Rocks

Let's play find the face, fish, and dog, while I try to construct coherent sentences, for my blog, about the fashion show last night.

With a rocking headache that took about five blueberry martinis to achieve, it may be awhile.


The Blonde is shaken, never stirred!!

Leo Horoscope

Lately my horoscope has been dead on. For two days straight it said I need to organize my space to be more productive, as you can see, I do.

Today, my horoscope says:

There is a line up of activities I need to get to, and I will benefit from moving quickly from one to the next.

The cool thing about that is, its fashion week in Austin and I have a schedule of events to attend to promote my bikini line. And since most of the events are back to back from 6-9, I will have to pop in and out of, as many as I can.

Like anyone else worried about their present and future, I grasp onto the universe and want it to tell me what to do because at the moment I have no idea. I am just happy that I can get up every day and keep looking forward. Having my horoscope be in tune with what I am doing somehow makes me feel like I am on the right path and in tough times, its a good thing to know.

The Blonde needs all the guidance she can get!!

Capital One Alarm Clock

Capital One sends me wake up calls on my cell phone. Like clockwork, every morning at 9 am I get a gentle reminder I am almost 45 days late on my credit card. As if I need a reminder that I can not pay. It does motivate me to get out of bed every morning and continue my efforts to look for work, continue sewing my bikinis for my online store, apply to community colleges for a quick degree in something, and place ads for my jewelry and jag on craigslist.

I should feel lucky I don't live in London. If your late on credit there, you have three men in bowler caps and black suits follow you around town like the grim reapers of your financial end.

To make matters a little more interesting, Boo had a job detailing boats for the summer but the drought dried up that opportunity. Lake Travis aqua level is dropping at a rate of 2ft a week. All the ramps are closed and the docks have been pushed out as far as they can go which means the lake will be closed to all boaters with in a week. That means, summer jobs will be cut, marinas will close, and local lake eateries will be very chill for the rest of the heat wave.

Soon I will get a snooze alarm from Capital One for Boo's car payment.

Good times!

Good times!

The Blonde is trying to keep her head above the water!!

My Nothing to Do about Anything List

I want the adult taken out of adult alternative. It sounds like easy listening

I want the senior label USTA gives tennis players over 35 to be bumped up to 55

I break the ends off pretzels and only eat the salty middle

I am so in the red, I have to use Bush's color code system just to get back to black

I read the carb labels on everything.

I don't like to keep underwear past 3 months

I like thin towels for easier twisting

I fail at everything

I try everything

I am super green over Cody Diablos fame and wish fate would step it up for me

My favorite pair of shoes are my DKNY rubber boots I bought for music fests

I am not a fan of flowers as a gift, I prefer a bottle of perfume or trinket

I want and need the beach and its ocean every year for soul inspiration

I try to fall asleep with a smile every night because its the best face lift

I cry a little right before I have to mow the yard...I hate it that much

I am beginning to think life is predestined


The Blonde has a wish list too!!

Rejection, Jection what's your Affection

...with me?


Ughhhh!!!!!!!!!!!!!


Blondie has nothing funny to say after beating her toes trying to get a trunk show going, and I don't want to be a Debbie Downer to everyone else feeling the economic pinch to the arse.

I have decided I could either shoot myself or grow and sell shroomz. I just need a distributor and a farmer to show me how.

I figure the worse that will happen is; I get caught, get three free square meals, a paid for 10x10 studio with window, and a girlfriend named Flo who makes me call her Daddy.

The Blonde has had worse happen to her!!!!

No Dead Ends

It seems the past two weeks has been an endless tragedy of death in the world of fame. Many names were not noteworthy due to age or the fact Americans don't watch reruns of British sitcom or bollywood movies.

It's mostly age.

I watched a few episodes of 'Pitchman' last night. They were playing them as a tribute to the late and irritatingly loud and lovable Billy Mayes. If you do not know who he is, you are to stupid to read my blog...so run along.

For the rest of you in the status quo know, Billy and his pal Sully, ran a pitch business together, that made them wealthy enough to play around in a private not G5 jet; still a jet.

What side you did not get to see, and the reality show helped me out on the peek-a-boo, is in the lives of inventors that have given their last coin to follow the full potential of the American dream of capitalism.

One man in particular got to me. I am not used to seeing men cry and feel the only time they should is when a loved one dies or their dog. If you cry over the cat, and I have cats, its not something I wish to see.

Anyhoo, back to my guy...

He choked on his words, "You don't give up until the tax man comes and hammers a notice on your door". He wiped his red eyes looked away and that was it. I knew what he meant, his wife knew what he meant, and his five children, had no clue as they danced for the cameras, what he meant.

Happy to say, the teary eyed bloke that gave me an extra boost to continue my new endeavor, grossed over $2 million thanks to his tenacity, the support of his family, and the genius of two guys that started selling sweepers, state to state, and ended up cleaning out the pockets of millions of happy consumers.


Blondes never run out of inspiration!

PETA Would Be Proud

PETA would be proud

When I was 7, I walked in on my Father going to the bathroom, or as we like to call it, his personal library. He was sitting on the toilet and from that one instance, seeing him sitting, I deduced in my impressionable blonde mind that at a certain age men’s wankers fall off and they have to go to the bathroom just like girls. The funny thing is, I don’t ever recall ever seeing a man stand up to pee either. I guess it was ingrained somewhere in my psyche, must have been a boy who taught me about the dangly thing.

I recall this one moment, because I had another such walk in just recently. I needed a beach towel which are stowed away in my parent’s boudoir. The door was ajar and without suspect I opened it, looked up for a brief second, saw my Father sitting on his thrown with a book in his lap- after all, it was his library.

Thank Gah for the book!

I quickly retreated backwards with eyes shut and apologized profusely.

Than I retreated down the hall to the kitchen where I began to shake off the incidence. Just then a huge yelp from an unsuspecting Boo cried out. “Grandpa, shut the door!”

As he walked down the hall, his trail of disgust kept going, “Oh Gah, Oh Geez, Oh the horror. My eyes, my eyes.”

“Walk in on Big Daddy?”

“Ughhh, he didn’t shut the door.”

“Yep, me too. Beach towel. You?”

“Toilet paper. Ughh”


We had a good laugh about it only because once Big Daddy hits the library; the glorious odor that comes from his ‘reading’ leaves you staying a distance away from the entire bedroom wing. I never did get that beach towel and Boo hustled Big Daddy's woman in for the paper.

Now it seems, some rats have taken to my storage unit and have converted it to their own private library. I noticed their ‘reading’ all over the sheets that cover my antique chairs. I have discussed the problem before with the management but all they want to do is place rat traps and poison in my unit to rid me of their problem. Unfortunately, I rather see dried droppings than dead carcasses of rodents left behind by torture.

Imagine them dying in my space, near my things.

Never!!!

I rather sit in Big Daddy’s library after he read the entirety of ‘The Blah Story’, which is a 13 million-word book by Nigel Tomm!!

Ughh!!!

So, instead of killing the walking typhoid fur balls, I have decided it is in my best interest and the rats, to move.

Ughh!!


The Blonde hates animal control!

Money Talks, Everyone Else Walks

I am listening to ACDC, whom I can never seem to get enough of, on nights like this; nights that make me think I should just chuck it all and be a vagabond on the beach or take a long walk on a short pier.

Money does talk, it talks louder than anything else in the world. For those of us who have lost it, for what ever reason- does it even matter why? It is a bit more difficult than never having money at all.

My friends, and even some men I know, seem to think being broke is contagious, or they think I am after them for something, and so they politely space themselves from me. It is alright, considering I can not afford to accompany them on the trips they take, the charity dinners they attend, nor the art exhibits from which they buy for their house, that I know longer have, anyway.

It seems to save face on both ends.

I am slowly becoming invisible but not in a bad way. I am just working in my cocoon to come out as a butterfly again. Spread my wings of fabulosity and see what life holds for me after I recover from this little stint in a financially dormant life.

One thing is for certain...men will be at the bottom of my list of hobbies... and friends--who needs the old ones when I can make new ones in exotic lands that I will most certainly be flying to.

And maybe, my wings will take me to a land that values the person more than their fame and fortune.

The Blonde has no room for baggage on her pretty little wings!!

I dedicate this to Farrah Fawcett!!!