Archive for June, 2008

Why DO Gentlemen Prefer Blondes?

June 30, 2008

No, really. I asked on a forum a while back, and someone said something about in Northern Europe, when everybody was all bundled up, all you could see was that a woman’s hair was still blonde, meaning she was still “in her prime”, and able to reproduce still.

However, that does not take into account brunette men. What about them, and where is the love for girls with brown hair, and, as Van Morrison sang, “My brown eyed girl/You my brown eyed girl”. That is one of the few songs I know of that praises those of us with brown eyes and/or hair. So many songs sing of blonde hair and blue eyes. Why?

Here is my theory. Blondes and stereotyped as being dumb, slow, all that, which is where we get blonde jokes. I have known smart, nice, very intelligent blondes (nein, dammit!).  Unfortunately, too many of the cheerleader types in high school ( were peroxide blondes, giving blondes a bad name. I couldn’t have described them better than the Beach Boys did.

Now, using the stereotype of blondes being dumb, let us now look at history. Historically speaking, women were there to serve their husband. Intelligence was often a negative thing. Women were not to be interested in politics. They were supposed to know how to set a formal table setting, cook, do housework. Not educate themselves, heaven forbid! Maybe, the stereotype is so ingrained in people that this is an unconscious thing, a throwback, or residual trait left over from before woman’s suffrage and the whole Women’s Rights movement.

Combining the historical with the present, women are supposed to take care of husband and home, and not be interested in the heavy thinking, that should be left to the men; blondes, according to stereotypes, are ditzy and cannot think beyond fashion and the home.

Wow, I have been cheerful lately, haven’t I? I will try to have a happy post next time, with pictures. No promises, though.


I have a strange subconscious…

June 29, 2008

No, really. I think she is violent, or something. I have had a couple strange dreams, lately.

So, first:

I was near a lake, and it was both flooded and the trees around it were on fire. I was with my parents, I think, or some adults, I can’t remember. Then, a guy named Chris (I think) came over, he had on a straw cowboy hat, and we left, and went into these tunnel things. That part is a bit blurry now. Eventually, we got into this subway-BART-underground thing, but the trains, while pointing (making up the directions for ease of reading) East-West, took you North-South, and up the side of the mountain. You pushed a button, like in an elevator, and you choose In or Out. By this time, there was a bunch of people, like in any subway or whatever. There was some creepy, sleazy guy that pushed the wrong button, or he got pushed in, and when everybody got to the other side, he had been killed or something. Then, one of the trains got pulled back, like it was caught on something. Under the train, on the tracks, were two bodies. One was a woman (who was not pregnant, that was just a detail that came to me in the dream), and the other was Barry Zito, the Giants Starting pitcher, and he was in the “flashback” uniform, with the bright orange jersey. The woman was missing her head, and down to her waist was just… not really mauled, but there was no skin, and you could see her guts and intestines, like in a medical textbook. Barry was missing his head, and down to his shoulders was torn and bloody.

Now, the flooding (from the midwest) and the fires (CA is burning right now) I can understand. Even the guy in the cowboy hat, it was the gardener from Living With Ed, that was on that evening. But the gruesome bodies? Where did THAT come from?

Second dream, I don’t remember much of this one:

I was being held against my will, not quite a hostage, but by a “bad guy” in front of other people type thing. It was at some sort of school, I’m not sure. He had a dagger in one hand, and a gun in the other. The dagger was being held against my right cheek, the gun against my left. The odd thing about the gun, though, was the tip was like a very large hypodermic needle. I think it was an acid gun (which would make a good sci-fi weapon), and I felt it pierce my skin, and sort of pop in. I was crying. It was pretty creepy. Then, I was let go (can’t remember why), and went into a bathroom with a mirror and sink. I had a “bubble” of blood on my left cheek (it had too much surface tension, and it hadn’t bled enough to drip), and my right cheek was smeared with blood and tears. I was still crying a bit. There was a guy in there, and he asked something about “Didn’t he see that?” refering to my right cheek. I can’t remember.

Then there was something to do with pirates, or a play with pirates, or something. I’m not exactly sure. When that was done, there were other people around, and we all went down the hill (my college is on the side of a hill). I got separated, or people went to their cars, or something, and I was walking near a statue. I think it was David, but he had a leaf or something over his naughty bits. Well, he came alive, and came after me. I ran, and I knew if I got to that pedastal right over there, I could get away. I was on the ground, and dragging myself away from him. Because clearly, he was going to rape/molest/do unkind things to me, no matter what he was saying, nor how sorry his face looked. Well, he touched the pedesdal, and froze, just like I had hoped, and a guy came over the lawn towards me. It was the guy I had a crush on in 7th grade. Bizzare, haven’t seen him in over a year, haven’t talked to him in more than that. He asked me if I was okay and that, and I think that was where I woke up.

Separate, but sort of related, but not, was another one:

Again, school. This one is a bit more broken up, I don’t remember it all. I was in a tram, because it was the only way to get to our class.It was enclosed, and the “track” was above the actual carraige portion. We had to go all the way up to the top, and then come back down a bit to get to where we were going. We went past some razor wire on the top of a chain link fence, and I asked the girl next to me why they call it razor wire, and not barbed wire. She said that razor wire had more barbs and bits on it, and it was on a chain link fence, so they gave it a different name. When we got out of the tram, we went through a small garden, I think it had tomatoes and corn.

O…kay. Like I said, my subconscious is weird. There was another bit, but it’s not interesting, and I don’t remember much of it.


June 24, 2008

I tried doing a blog before, but it was on a different host site, and it was sort of evil and hard to use. So, I’m trying again.

Hi there, ever’body! *It’s Dr. Nick!* Okay, no not really. My name is Sara, well, in real life at least. Most of the time I use the username Arsinoe Selene (aka, Arsi), sometimes tomboy5150, depending on the site and what they will accept.

I am a college student, I work at a yarn shop, knit, write, sign (ASL) learning to cook (you bake brownies, you cook dinner, important distinction, there), and learning to sew. I am inordinately interested in history (people, mainly, not dates, bleagh), and have recently discovered RenFaires. I also relise that my first sentence in this paragraph is grammatically incorrect, and I am going to do nothing to change it, bwa-hahahahaha!

Uh, so yeah. I will be ranting, raving, and generally making a dam fool of myself. I do apologize for any pictures, I do not have ready access to the good digital, just the little crappy one that runs on two AA’s.