I’m Blonder Than I Look

I was going to write about ethics today – and it was going to be good.  Notes in place, paragraphs in some semblance of order, and then I had one of my many blonde moments.  I couldn’t stop thinking about these random ‘duh’ moments of mine and remain amazed that I am here in spite of myself.  Full disclosure – I’m not a natural blonde, so I use the adjective loosely and more than a little disingenuously.

Anyway, I’ve conducted a completely unscientific study with a myriad of uncontrolled variables to skew the results and I am sure nonetheless that it’s results are correct – my IQ score drops precipitously at completely arbitrary times.  Clearly this suggests that I think at my own risk.  This gives me some pause, for who the hell knows what is going to come into this head of mine – and worse, what may come out of my mouth if the trap door between my brain and mouth is temporarily disengaged?

This morning I was listening to NPR while driving to the gym, thinking that it was far too cold for anyone to commit to this schedule of torture, when I heard the following from Cokie Roberts “…Mitt Romney has to get over the hump…”.  I swear to you, my first thought was ‘How does Mitt Romney even know The Hump?  And, is it really good for him to be associated with the Kardashians?’  Pitiful.  I am really pitiful.

I should be embarrassed to tell you this, but it happens all the time.  Years ago, upon receiving a job offer, I asked whether the salary was ‘negotiable up or down’.  Of the course the prospective employer assured me that they could go lower.  Sigh…My husband tells that story regularly just to ensure that humility is always within reach and my cheeks can be rosy without blush on.

When I was looking for a pair of shoes to go with a dress I bought, I told the salesperson that ‘I don’t want them to be too matchy-matchy, just be the same color’.  You don’t want to know the look I got – though the woman was very patient with me and spoke in a calm, soothing voice.

I talk to the GPS lady.  No, I argue with the GPS lady and still get lost.

Don’t even ask me how long I thought a reference to ‘six pack abs’ was a reference to how much beer a person consumed.  Parenthetically, I have never had six pack abs, so I think this is forgivable.

I recently taught myself how to knit by watching youtube videos over and over again.  I can’t get farther than knitting shawls and blankets because I can’t get what they mean by the ‘wrong side’ of the piece.  Which is the wrong side if I haven’t made a mistake?

Perhaps this is why I have such a great relationship with my dogs.  Admittedly, I anthropomorphize their behaviors, and believe that I have a rare connection with their thoughts.  I get it when Archie relentlessly chases snowflakes and is totally flummoxed when he fails to catch any;  I understand when Teddy looks at me with gratitude when I call him inside, because he’s completely spaced on where he is (despite the fact that he’s in the front yard).

The good news is that none of this has gotten any worse over the years.  I was this ditzy in my teens.  The occasional flashes of intelligence are merely that – brief occurrences in what is usuallya carnival in my head.  The bad news of course is clear – it really is unfortunate that Romney has a thing for The Hump.