Day 151

Today, I freaked out because when I woke up in my hotel room, I had forgotten where I was. Hotels are so non-descript it’s kind of obnoxious. I do have a fairly nice room and considering I’m going to be living in it for 3 to 4 months, I guess its great that it has a microwave and a fridge. The windows only open about 2 inches, which is kind of annoying since sometimes I just want some freaking fresh air.

I keep forgetting to put the “do not disturb” sign on my door, so the maid has come everyday so far. I never know how much to tip them and I get a little frustrated when I put things the way I want them and the made comes and moves everything back to the default settings – like the coffee maker is on the left of the counter, not the right. The $3 bottles of water I refuse to drink are put back on the counter. I do like that my bed is magically made and my towels are folded and pretty.

I used to think that living in a hotel was glamorous. I think the important part if this fantasy is living in a LUXURY hotel is glamorous. If you had to live in a Super 8, you might was to die. I’m not saying that this particular hotel is bad, it’s clean and nice and all that jazz, but hotel living is hard. You have a tiny fridge and no oven and your tv automatically resets to channel two when you turn it off and the volume adjusts itself louder, so you’re convinced that some geriatric hobo came over to watch the tube while you were out. There are never enough hangers and there is always a smell that’s either annoying or unpleasant… because you’re not home. That’s part of the problem with hotel living – it’s painfully temporary. You could settle in, get some matching throw pillows, some potpourri, but in the end, you’re leaving so it doesn’t matter.

I especially feel like I’m living in a stranger’s house because when I find blonde hair on the shower… or the sink… or on my pillow… I think, “Who’s been in my room!?” It’s a literal reverse-Goldilocks scenario and it’s a trip.

Today gets 3 Barbie Warhols:

Day 150

Today I was getting my bearings in a new town and it wasn’t impossible, but I did miss my free way exit a few times and had to drive an extra 20 minutes to get where I was going. I’m blaming that on the Blonde. Got to meet people in the office and then pretty much spent the day running around getting things settled. I’m very tired, but it was a productive day.

I enjoy meeting new people most of the time, but now that I’m a blonde, a lot of these people didn’t know me as a redhead. I get to understand how others perceive me as a blonde without knowing my previous identity. With my current relocation for work and my blonde hair, I can’t help but feel like I’ve entered witness protection. Sometimes I wonder if I had entered witness protection, why would I need protection? Would I be one of the guilty witnesses or the innocent ones? More than likely I’d be innocent, but just be in the wrong place at the wrong time because that is my luck. Here’s what I came up with:

In LA, I’m at the office and I’m going over my departmental budget and I’m adding and adding and adding the numbers… I’m looking at the account codings and not recognizing a series of numbers (I’m actually wearing one of those green visors and am running one of those adding machines with the tape). I discover a dummy accounting code that is used to launder money from an illegal circus-themed prostitution ring and I suddenly realize why the corporation makes so many movies about elves/little people. I become an accidental whistleblower and have to make a run for it, but there are hitmen after me and my blonde hair flows in the wind as I sprint down the streets of Los Angeles…

Today gets 4 Barbie Warhols:

Day 149

(Thank god I'm not John McClane)

I’m off to AmericanTown, USA for work and I will confess this to you – I hate flying. It makes my arms tired.

I hate the illogical system that is dictated by class hierarchy. Wouldn’t it make more sense to load the people who have seats in the rear first? Why does first class get to board first? It’s not like they’re going to get there any faster. Everyone is always stalling to put their luggage away and tripping over each other. It’s gross. I think that the worst part is when you have to walk through first class back to your bitch seat in coach. I don’t really give a shit about first class vs. coach because I make it a point to be unconscious for as much of the plane ride as humanly possible. If I could be cryogenically frozen for transport, I would be. I get air sick and claustrophobic and anxious. But, I really do just hate how the first class passengers seem to stare you down as you walk by them, or they make every effort to avoid your gaze. Is this a 1^st-world version of those “feed the children” commercials? Should Sally Struthers (BLONDE!) be on the PA saying, “you, too, could sponsor a passenger of your own… for as little as $426 per flight, a coach-class human in need can be upgraded to first class and have access to hot towels and spacious leg room…. Please press your call button now.”

But on the plus side today… I got hit on by one of my seat mates (sometimes I forget that I’m blonde…) and I didn’t puke once!

Today gets 3 Barbie Warhols:

Day 147

I have the best friends in the history of the world, ever. I had a small gathering of people to send me off into the great unknown as I embark on a new adventure. Essentially, my job is taking me out of town until Christmas. This is both stressful and potentially fun. Hopefully lucrative, but money is a bitch, so whatevs.

My friends sent me off in true debauched fashion – smoke, booze, and broads. We went to a lovely dive bar near my place with a woods-y theme and then headed back to my place for the after party. Ordered a shitload of pizza, I think I put in pajamas and we watched internet videos, talked about life, and then in the wee hours of the morning, they left and I was alone.

After nights like this, when I’m (seemingly) suddenly alone, I get really pensive, but luckily on this occasion, I felt very loved and passed out in my bed for 8 hours.

Today gets 5 Barbie Warhols:

Day 146

BLONDE THINGS THAT ROCK: GWEN STEFANI

Gwen Stefani, lead singer of No Doubt and a solo artist in her own right is a BLONDE who ROCKS. She literally rocks. She sings, she dances, she designs clothes, she’s married to Gavin Rossdale, has a family and still manages to be awesome. How does she do it? I think it must be the power of the BLONDE.

Most recently she’s become a spokesmodel for L’oreal lipstick. I haven’t tried it, but I am likely to in the future. In 6^th grade, I remember singing songs from the “Tragic Kingdom” album in the girl’s bathroom with Maggie Vandersnoot*. Gwen became and icon, especially when thrift store shopping – always wanted to have some fun clothes that I could make funky. I also always wanted to be platinum blonde like here. And now I am.

Does it feel like I thought it would? No, because part of being Gwen Stefani is being the lead singer of No Doubt and I don’t sing. But I’m having a lot of fun despite that fact.

*not her real name

Today gets 4 Barbie Warhols:

Day 145

Survival of the fittest is true. You want to know how I know? Because I survived. There are some days that you swear you don’t know how you made it through. Today was one of those days for me. I can’t actually remember any of the particulars of what made today absolutely impossible, but it was and I can’t believe that I’m finally seeing the other side of it. It’s flabbergasting.

I don’t know if I just think quickly on my feet, or if I just roll with the punches, but I tend to make it through days like this when they come around. It never ceases to amaze me. Being blonde should have nothing to do with this, but more often than not, I have been muddling through even if it takes a toss of the flaxen strands and a giggle. I’m a hussy.

Today gets 2 Barbie Warhols:

Day 144

Oh Stress, thou art thy sworn enemy. There are times in my life when I can literally feel the stress crawling up my spine, kidnapping every muscle in my back along the way, and holding them hostage in my shoulders. It’s not very pleasant.

I wish I knew where stress actually came from so that I could stop it from happening. I know that it’s all psychological but there has to be some sort of source for the madness. So far, the only solution for stress requires time, which you tend to not have a lot of when you’re stressed.

I think that the power of the BLONDE has helped me immensely. I still get really stressed, just like I have in the past, but now I tend to let it all roll off my back. I definitely employ the art of BLONDE ZEN ™ and zone out for a solid 5 minutes.

The key to BLONDE ZEN™ is to take a little bit of quiet time for yourself and completely wipe your mind. All your thoughts and troubles and worries drain out of your head out your ears and beyond your reach. You have a blank stare on your face and people may be convinced that you’ve had some sort of lapse in consciousness. This is a good thing because they may then assume you are crazy and will also leave you alone.

Today gets 3 Barbie Warhols:

Day 143

I was so busy today, I didn’t eat lunch. This has been happening a lot lately and it’s probably not good. I get cranky when I don’t eat.

Today gets 1 Barbie Warhol:

Day 142

Mondays are like the brunettes of the week… dark, serious, and often sinister. Is that unfair to brunettes? Probably. While today was a hectic day, I had fun. I also realized that I may not have ever fully defined what it means to be blonde. Granted, I’ve been newly inducted into the blonde club, but I think that I have experience enough to speak plainly.

Being blonde means being sweet and salty; being smart and air-headed, being bad-ass and gentle. Being blonde means being a contradiction and walking the fine line between who you are and who you want to be. Being blonde means being beautiful both inside and out. I like to think that we all about a little blonde inside us.

Now that my blonde is on the outside, the world is different. I know I write that everyday, but it’s true. I feel different with my blonde-ness on the outside. I still identify myself as a red-head on some strange level on the inside. It’s hard to let go of an identity that you’ve held onto for so long. But, to me, being blonde is important – not only because this entire blog is based on being blonde for a whole year, but because without the blonde, I sincerely doubt that I would be the woman that I am today.

Today gets 5 Barbie Warhols:

Day 140

HONORARY BLONDE: GLORIA STEINEM

Gloria Steinem is pretty much responsible for who I am as a woman. I hate to say this because that puts a lot on her. I never really fancied myself a feminist until I went blonde, but lately, it’s been on my mind a lot. It’s shocking to me that some people, including women, are anti-feminist. I guess I should begin by defining feminism – “Feminism is a collection of movements aimed at defining, establishing, and defending equal political, economic, and social rights and equal opportunities for women.” [Wikipedia] Does any of that sound like something you would like to disagree with? Sometimes I think the idea of feminism gets warped into other things and uneducated people start spouting their mouth off in disagreement before actually knowing what they are disagreeing with.

The reason I have elected that Gloria Steinem become an honorary blonde is because that woman helped the feminist movement and had to put up with a lot of bullshit along the way. She’s not just a feminist, but she’s a social activist and seems like a wonderful, open-minded lady.

When you take a look at our patriarchal society out of context, it’s pretty astonishing. In what world would it be acceptable for a faction of people to only have two choices in life – a career or a marriage? You’re either the saint or the sinner, the Madonna or the whore. Why can’t we just all be equals as people?

I was thinking about things like how “history” is the white male perspective and there’s “women’s studies” and “black studies” but why isn’t there “white male history”? Why does that have to be the norm? Without Gloria Steinem in my life, I wouldn’t think about this stuff in an analytical way.

So, today, I bestow the title of Honorary Blonde upon Ms. Magazine co-founder and feminist icon Gloria Steinem for being a harbinger of truth and equality and a bad-ass bitch.

Today gets 5 Barbie Warhols:

Day 139

This is the first image that comes up when you google "anger"...

I can’t even begin to describe the craziness of my life. I have no patience in my life for hatred or self-importance, but today I witnessed both things. I saw a guy skip past a whole line of people waiting and didn’t even take a second glance. I saw two women arguing with such fury, I actually feared for what would happen next (seriously, for a split second, I wondered if they would knock over a display of wine).

I couldn’t discern what exactly they were fighting about, but I do know that there are few things in life that should merit that type of anger and fierce words. The guy who skipped the line, I thought maybe he hadn’t seen the line, but upon further inspection, there is no way you can get up to the counter without going through the line. There are those velvet rope-y things. They are about as enforcing as they can be, but it’s not as though they are electrified (yet).

I don’t know if I’ve always been like this, or if it’s my new BLONDE ZEN ™ that has washed over me, but I’m seeing the world differently. I really hate those people who have this self-important bullshit and just waste so much energy over such trivial matters. I can get mad just like anyone else, but you shouldn’t get mad over stupid stuff. It’s not worth the wrinkles.

Today gets 5 Barbie Warhols for self-enlightenment: