Quick, Annoyed, Thought.

Networking and meeting new people is becoming increasingly more difficult for me.  I’m finding that, lately, men think I want a date and women feel threatened to reveal their “success secrets”, which pretty much leaves me surrounded by college friends and gay men.

Not that there’s anything wrong with being surrounded by either, really.

But how am I supposed to open that damn circle and get anywhere without being misinterpreted as a flirt or a nosy bitch?

If Sex and the City and Mad Men had a cultural female-perspective love child, that’d be my viewpoint.  Liberated, and therefore, trapped. Or something. Ugh.

Don’t cha think?

Today I saw a brunette girl in the elevator at Target wearing a pink t-shirt with the phrase “Blondes Have More Fun” written across her chest in fuchsia bubble letters.  It seemed like a mean joke on her played by the universe for obvious reasons, and because I’d bet money the poor thing wasn’t wearing it ironically.

Today someone told me that I reminded him of his friend, Alanis Morissette, when I was dressed like Elvis on Halloween.  This seemed like a cruel joke played on me by the universe because I look nothing my brunette wig-wearing Halloween outfit during the rest of the year, and because for a brief time during my ‘tween years I believed I was both Alanis Morissette and Elvis.

Ironically, when I Googled Alanis to double check the spelling of her name, this blonde picture of the normally brunette singer came up.  Maybe Blondes really do have more fun, even when dressed as brunettes.