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One thing I don’t understand about them is why there are two spellings for blonde.
My hair is black and gray, not blacke and graye, and most people have brown hair, not browne.
Blondes are special though, and I suspect many of them will not hesitate to tell you so.
Blond hair dye outsells other colors by five to one. That alone is enough to make a blond feel like a horse of a different color.
That also brings up the question of whether bottle blonds are the ones responsible for the “blondes are dumb” myth. I have a suspicion about that, but I’ll keep it to myself because bottle blonds are very likely to be packing a deadly bottle.
Blonds are more likely to be left-handed than others, yet more proof that they are different. Watch out for those left jabs.
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Internet dating services confirm that brunettes only receive about four hits for every six a blond gets. Redheads are somewhere in between.
Dating services also report that blonds are more likely to have college degrees and are also more likely to be employed in the legal profession. Unless the fake blondes also skewed that survey, unlikely in my opinion, my theory that blonds are not dumb may have some merit.
Advertisers found out years ago that blond models sell 5% more of whatever they are plugging. More proof that blondes can dumb, or smart, their way right up to the bank vault door.
One nationwide poll shows that 76 percent of men and 74 percent of women believe the first woman elected president will be a brunette. Out of a Clairol bottle probably, but only her hairdresser will know for sure.
Supposedly 55 percent of the population agrees with the old adage that blondes have more fun. I suppose many of the rest of us believe that they are just easily amused, but fun is fun.
Blond hair dye first hit the market in 1907, thanks to a French chemist named Eugene Schuller, but fake blonds had already been popular for centuries. Wigs of the blonde persuasion were commonly worn by ancient Roman women trying to compete with all the yellow haired slaves brought to Rome from conquered Germanic tribes.
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If you are at a cookout, sit next to a blond. Mosquitoes love them like a kid loves candy and will avoid the lowly brunette (or whatever) sitting next to them. Unless every inch of the blond is covered, then you are toast so go find an undiscovered blond.
On a normal head of hair a blond will have 140,000 hairs, a brunette 110,000 and a redhead 90,000. If you want to know whether or not someone is a natural blond and they refuse to drop their pants, start counting the hairs on their noggin and you will soon lose interest in what they are. Until proven otherwise, a blond is a blonde.
An Australian study has stated that blonds have a higher pain threshold than females sporting other hair colors. I don’t know what to make of that, perhaps they would make good spies because of their ability to endure torture. Maybe that is why so many of them can laugh off a round of blonde jokes, not only able to tolerate pain but indignation.
All this talk about blonds is giving me a headache, and my partially, well barely, (does three hairs per square inch count?) black hair tells the Aussies that I can’t deal with pain. There probably aren’t any torturous Aussies within a thousand miles though, so I feel reasonably safe.
Mmmmmm, perhaps a quick dye job would cure the problem!
Nah, I’m not looking for a date, mosquitoes already seem to think I’m a blond in disguise, and I’m not really model material.
Then again, I could always use a little more fun in my life.