on the elevator: blondist
I was on the elevator a few minutes ago to let a new employee in through security. I had my coffee in one hand, iPhone in the other. We have wi-fi in the building and I was being an obsessive twitter checker for a bit.*
Another gentleman gets on the elevator and comments, “You’re not trying to chew gum too, are you?” I started to quickly reply, “No, that would be thre–” when he then fired off, “No, that’s right, we save that comment for the blonds!” and proceeded to chortle in a self-satisfied manner.
I, still wearing my cap to protect my radiation-burned forehead, said “How do you know I’m not a blond?” And proceeded to enjoy the rest of my ride to ze lobby in peace.
* What can I say? There are times when I can’t get enough of the 140-character updates from friends and acquaintances. I also find that staring into a mobile device–with or without headphones–keeps people from talking to you.