He had no idea where the stereotype of dumb giggly blondes came from. Ever since he'd met Annabeth at the Grand Canyon last winter,when she'd marched toward him with that Give me Percy Jackson or I'll kill you expression, Leo had thought of blondes as much too smart and much too dangerous.
I remember when I got the part in Gentlemen Prefer Blondes. Jane Russell - she was the brunette in it and I was the blonde. She got $200,000 for it, and I got my $500 a week, but that to me was, you know, considerable. She, by the way, was quite wonderful to me. The only thing was I couldn't get a dressing room. Finally, I really got to this kind of level and I said, "Look, after all, I am the blonde, and it is Gentlemen Prefer Blondes!" Because still they always kept saying, "Remember, you're not a star." I said, "Well, whatever I am, I am the blonde!
The realistic style is easy to abuse: from haste, from lack of awareness, from inability to bridge the chasm that lies between what a writer would like to be able to say and what he actually knows how to say. It is easy to fake; brutality is not strength, flipness is not wit, edge-of-the-chair writing can be as boring as flat writing; dalliance with promiscuous blondes can be very dull stuff when described by goaty young men with no other purpose in mind than to describe dalliance with promiscuous blondes.
How's your grandpa?" "Still worried that your blackness will infect me." "That's the plan. First you, then all the other blondes, and then on to brunettes and redheads. Once we have the womenfolk, all the babies will come out black, too. We all voted on the plan at the last Black Conspirators meeting.
There were tens of thousands of pilgrims, from all over the world. They were of all colors, from blue-eyed blondes to black-skinned Africans. But we were all participating in the same ritual, displaying a spirit of unity and brotherhood that my experiences in America had led me to believe never could exist between the white and non-white.
I've got the Rosebud lip balm. I was gonna say my phone but that's not a beauty product. I try to bring my mascara everywhere because I'm a blonde and you know blondes have really light eyelashes, you always wanna put more and more on til they look like spiders, that's just what I do. And that's about it. Those are the two things that I keep. Sometimes if I have a big enough purse I'll bring my perfume or something. Right now I really like Beaute, it's by Johan B. and it's really nice, so I like that.
The harsh truth is, most red-haired men look like blondes who've spoiled from lack of refrigeration. They look like brown-haired men who've been composted out behind the barn. Yet that same pigmentation that on a man can resemble leaf mold or junkyard rust, a woman wears like a tiara of rubies.
The sky was thick with TV. If you wore special glasses you could see them spinning through the sky among the bats and homing birds-blondes, wars, famines, football, food shows, coups d'etat, hairstyles stiff with hair spray. Designer pectorals. Gliding towards Ayemenem like skydivers. Making patterns in the sky. Wheels. Windmills. Flowers blooming and unblooming.
So...have you ever thought about dyeing your hair punk-rocker-chick black? As I'm sure you've heard, I have a thing for brunettes and always avoid blondes." "I've heard. And no." "Too bad. Because you're making me rethink my stance about doing my friends' exes." i snorted, not even trying to hide my...incredulity? Surely I wasn't amused. "Your making me rethink my stance on cold-blooded homicide
So... have you ever thought about dyeing your hair punk-rocker-chick black? As I'm sure you've heard, I have a thing for brunettes and always avoid blondes." "I've heard. And no." "Too bad. Because you're making me rethink my stance about doing my friends' exes." I snorted, not even trying to hide my... incredulity? Surely I wasn't amused. "Your making me rethink my stance on cold-blooded homicide
Think about this truck. Make believe this is not the darkest, wettest, most miserable Army truck you have ever ridden in. This truck, you've got to tell yourself, is full of roses and blondes and vitamins. This here is a real pretty truck. This is a swell truck. You were lucky to get this job tonight. When you get back from the dance... Choose yo' pahtnuhs, folks!... you can write an immortal poem about this truck. This truck is a potential poem. You can call it, "Trucks I Have Rode In", or "War and Peace", or "This Sandwich Has No Mayonnaise." Keep it simple.
I DO THE SAKS FIFTH - DO THE LENNOX AVE DO THE DASHBOARD, DRIVIN' LIKE I'M FINNA CRASH I DO THE MAGIC CITY, I DO THE JERSEY GIRLS I DO THE POLO, BUT I NEVER DO THE JERSEY, GIRL DO THE MASERATI, DO THE 'MARO DO THE BEVERLY HILLS, I DO THE MELROSE DO THE CLUB NIGHT, BUT I DON'T DO THE LINE ONE BIG ROOM FULL OF BAD, BAD BLONDES I DO THE 'HOOD - I DO THE BLOCK USED TO DO THE CABBAGE PATCH, USED TO DO THE WOP YOU DO THE YOU, I'LL DO THE ME COLLEGE GIRL GIVIN' BRAIN, TRYNA TUTOR ME
Other than his ex-wife and despite appearances with a series of cultivated blondes, Edward de Bono has never publicly aligned himself with a woman. 'I'm looking for a fat, cross-eyed hunchback,' he explains, stifling a giggle. 'A prosthetic hump would do.' His delight evaporates when asked about his three grandchildren. 'Am I a doting grandfather?' He pauses. 'I'm a ... something grandfather, yes.' The fact that De Bono remains unperturbed by this lack betrays an emotionally austere childhood, and his passions for play, toys, and bad jokes tell of the same deprivation.
The walls, where there was room, were well decorated with calendars and posters showing bright, improbable girls with pumped-up breasts and no hips - blondes, brunettes and redheads, but always with this bust development, so that a visitor of another species might judge from the preoccupation of artist and audience that the seat of procreation lay in the mammaries. Alice Chicoy... who worked among the shining girls, was wide-hipped and sag-chested and she walked well back on her heels... She was not in the least jealous of the calendar girls and the Coca-Cola girls. She had never seen anyone like them, and she didn't think anyone ever had.
Is this the girl?' Kieran's voice was very different: It sounded like waves sliding up the shore. Like warm water under pale light. It was seductive, with an edge of cold. He looked at Emma as if she were a new kind of flower, one he wasn't sure he liked. 'She's pretty, ' he said. 'I didn't think she'd be pretty. You didn't mention it.' Iarlath shrugged. 'You've always been partial to blondes, ' he said. 'Okay, seriously?' Emma snapped her fingers. 'I am right here. And I was not aware I was being invited to a game of 'Who's the Hottest?'" I wasn't aware you were invited at all, ' said Kieran. His speech had a casual edge, as if he was used to talking to humans. 'Rude, ' said Emma.
Do you fancy catching a movie at the Sturbridge Theater tonight? That new Robert Pattinson movie is showing, ' I ask her, the phone cradled against my chest. 'Definitely sign me up for that!' Ari replies, chuckling as I mock scowl. Her easy laugh warms my soul. 'We're in, ' I tell Gil, arranging to meet him and his date in the diner later. 'So, who is it this time?' Ari asks, resting her chin in her hands. 'Anyone we know?' Considering I can count the girls on one hand who have enjoyed more than one date with Gil, I doubt it'll be someone familiar. 'I didn't ask; guess we'll find out soon enough.' 'Five bucks says it's a blonde, ' Ari quips. 'That's one bet I'm not taking, ' I admit, twirling a lock of her hair around my finger. 'Gil's penchant for blondes is world-renowned.