A blonde Irish moment….

I used to work with this really nice woman called Pat. She was a character – funny, wise and sad. Anyway, any time she ever did something wrong she would always say she was having a ‘blonde, Irish moment’ Yes, it’s politically incorrect but in a office full of people who were all politically incorrect who is going to point fingers? Today I said to someone – ‘Oh crap, I must have had a blonde moment when I did that.’ Yes, naughty Amarinda. I usually say ‘I must have been having an artificially dyed red head moment.’ Anyway, this woman got upset at the blonde comment. “I’m blonde and I take offence at that.” I looked at her and said "you’re not blonde – that’s peroxide.” She swore blind it wasn’t and that she is "naturally" that white blonde colour. Yeah, and I naturally have intense red steaks in my hair – had ‘em since birth and my nails are naturally turquoise. Anyway, I said – ‘You have regrowth’ (as anyone who dyes their hair does.) Her answer – ‘That’s just the lighting in the office.' She was serious. Uh huh…I must remember that one. No, that’s not a bulge of fat – it’s the lighting that makes me look that way. Anyway this made me wonder – why do you reckon people insist that they are something when they are not? I have shoulder length mid brown hair. That’s me. I choose to dye it. Ethel, best friend, has brown hair but insists, and will fight you to the death over it, that she has naturally blonde hair – yeah, right…me too, Ethel. So what is it? Is it a case of trying to be something we aren’t? Are we wanting to deny reality? Is it a self esteem thing? Do we believe a blonde version of us is more attractive? Or are we just bloody minded and refuse to acknowledge the truth? As for political correctness – yes, we should think before we speak but I believe sometimes we have OD’d on PC.

Last night a tribe of African Warriors descended on my sleepy street and started chanting and banging drums loudly in a rhythmic way. I assumed that they were announcing a herd of elephants were approaching and they had to be loud to get our attention. I was in the middle of doing a final draft so I swore as my concentration was screwed. I stomped to the window and peered out. No - no tribesmen out the front of number 18. I realized it was the prick of a teenage boy next door. He is a horror - whiny and mean to his little sister – and nasty as to his mother. I am tempted to go over there and smack him in the chops to teach him some respect. He is just horrible. He reminds my of my older brother. What a horror he was. He liked to kick and punch and he enjoyed telling me, on a constant basis, that I was the ugliest girl he and his friends knew. Now, as a teenager with braces and freckles it was not something you wanted to hear and I believed him for the longest time. My mother told me her oldest son was an idiot and not to listen to him. But what do you do with kids like this? It’s not my business to go and tell this dear little soul next door to pull his head in but it annoys me he treats his family in this way. I am the sort of person who sees something and acts. It kills me to sit and try and ignore it. As for my older brother – we don’t speak to each other and I would hate to see another brother and sister go that way again – but you can’t pick your relatives can you?

When I was in my early 20’s I was working and travelling overseas as a lot of Aussies do. I went over by myself at 19 and set myself up in London. It was a strange city, I knew no one but that was okay. I was looking for adventure and I wanted to see how I could survive by myself. It was the best learning experience. I think more people should do that before that get settled into the blah existence of jobs. Why do I mention this? I have to deal with a twenty something year old in my job. She sees me as a threat. I can be if I choose to be but honestly I have no interest taking over her tin pot kingdom. Unlike Precious, my work is not my life. I know there is stuff that is way more important. I look at her and I think I was never like that at her age – and I believe that all comes down to life experience. She has none so she protects what she sees as important. I wonder what she will be like in 20 years time? I suspect she’ll be in the same job and fending off younger people coming in. No, there’s nothing wrong with that but it’s really not living is it?

I did something today that took a lot of people by surprise. I like to do that. Someone said “Holy crap you’ve got balls.” I have to ask why taking a risk equates to ‘balls’ and in turn masculinity? Women have been kicking men’s arse way back to Boadicea and beyond. I’ll know if my bold/pushy move is successful tomorrow…I let you know.

Excellent response to why people are changing blog templates all of a sudden – good comments on my blog, other people’s blogs about it and some excellent pissed off emails sent to me personally – quote by Author X - “Who do you think you are?” Response - Why I’m me…Amarinda…my name’s at the top of the blog above ‘Go ahead give an opinion.’ Emails – pissed off or happy gladly received night and day on amarinda_jones@yahoo.com.au

So April fools day today. Who have you been a complete romantic fool over? Was it one that got away or is it the one you are with now? What is the cutest, most foolish thing you have every done in the name of love that is legal to speak about on a blog? Me? Not saying. I want to retain my air of bitchy attitude and mystery.

The gripper gals, and I believe there is a boy as well, are venting their collective spleens on the Oh Get a Grip Blog to prove to me they can bitch with the best of them…go check out what drives good girls wild…er…in the pissed-off-ed-ness sense. Then swing by Anny and Kelly’s blogs for revelations and ruminations.

www.freewebs.com/amarindajones/
Go ahead: Live with abandon. Be outrageous at any age. What are you saving your best self for?