HELLO BLUE-RINSE MY OLD FRIEND...

An interesting addendum to my shite-talking about blondes in my last entry. I was listening to the radio recently, and they were talking about how the "dumb blonde" myth is in fact a self-fulfilling prophesy. A Psychologist in a German University was claiming that people's low expectations of blondes leads to them under-performing, and they tend to fit the social patterns set for them. The only flaw in Professor Jens Foerster's thesis was made evident by his admission that he himself is a blonde. Therefore, if by his rationale society makes him say stupid things, then his theory must be bollocks, then we can say that he isn't saying stupid things and is in fact right. But then he can't be right by his own theory so he must be wrong. I'm so confused! I must be blonde too.

As a welcome change of pace, I was surrounded by grey hair at the Simon and Garfunkel concert in the RDS. My first introduction to Simon and Garfunkel was through our PE teacher's perennial choice of garb. Every day, it seemed he had his "Simon and Garfunkel World Tour 1982" tee-shirt on, so that even today I associate their lilting folk melodies with the stink of rancid sweat. So you can imagine, I start humming "Mrs Robinson" on Dart trains on a regular basis. Oh and true-to form, our PE teacher had grey hair, and not much of even that.

But a merry time was had by myself and Rocky (remember her, she was my medieval porn researcher)and on the way out I couldn't help but laugh at the announcement that came over the tannoy.
"Please make your way slowly to the exits."
I looked around at the blue-rinse throng around me,
"Some of these guys don't really have a choice, do they?" I said,waiting patiently for the guy with the walking stick in front of us to make his way out of the arena.

In work the following week, I was relating this story to someone, with the mistake of allowing myself to be overheard by a grey-haired electrician who just so happened to have been at the concert. Man was I caught rotten. Pretty stupid but sure what do you expect from me? I must be blonde...

THE INCIDENTAL TOURIST

Butterfly's little sis Bluelita's in town, adding another blonde head to the ever- increasing recessant-gene invasion of Western Europe. It is strange that Evolution actually has it in for the blonde, even the red head has a more genetic dominance. Perhaps, if we ask it nicely enough, Evolution might forego the phasing out of the blonde and have a go at killing off all the gingers instead.

I brought two such blonde heads to the Guinness Brewery, one American and one Estonian. They tried to entice us to impart with a whole 12 Euro with the promise of "free" pint of Guinness. Mind you, at that rate it's probably cheaper than Lillie's Bordello (not that I'd have any direct experience you understand). I think the seven floor exhibition is designed not to enthrall or educate, rather to develop a huge thirst for that "free" pint in the Control Tower-esque Sky Lounge at the end. And the Guinness there was real nice... although at 12 Euro it'd feckin want to be. I asked Bluelita did she like it.
"it was... interesting." she replied.

The next excursion was to Dublinia and Christchurch. On my way there I overheard a little seven year old kid on the train. "I'm gonna shag you mam" he said. The mother was both incensed and mortified.
"Where did you hear that?!"
"Malcolm. He says to me 'go shag your Ma'... Mam what does shag mean?"
"Er... I don't know"
"Yes you do!" he chided.
She gently ruffled his hair
"It means to this with your hair"
Quick thinking, I thought, but it may backfire. Sure enough, a few minutes later, enough time for the carriage to be replenished with unsuspecting passengers, he piped up again.
"Mam!" he cried, "My hairdresser shags me!"

I met Bluelita afterwards and told her the story. "Interesting" she said.
We entered the mid-season Dublinia exhibition to find it half empty and half the dispalys out of order. We spend several minutes pelting the wax figure in the stocks ("hit my nose to find out why I am here" the display said) only to find out he was broken too. Not really a surprise considering the way me and Bluelita were attacking the poor guy. Actually, by that rationale, I'm surprised we didn't create a few authentic cannonball holes which would be an unexpected boost to the authenticity of the exhibition. If Bluelita was unimpressed by the level of broken exhibits and renovations, she was even less impressed by the guy at the Christchurch reception who accused her of being German. Despite a blue-eyed blonde-headed demeanour like a Ayran racialist's wet dream, Bluelita was surprised by the assumption and was quick to correct him, thankful for the fact that at least he hadn't had said "Russian."
Outside I asked her her verdict of the visit.
"Interesting" she said.

Half way down the road, we were abducted by aliens, given the secret of eternal life, brought back in time to meet Jesus, and then swooped back to the present to capture Bin Laden. When we were dropped off in O'Connell Street afterwards I was overwhelmed.
"Wow!" I said,"What did you think of that?"
"Interesting." she said.