I may not be as whip-smart as I'd like to think I am. And years of rubbish sleep patterns and excessive self-medicating with red wine have no doubt hacked away at my brain cells.
But even I am in awe at the buffoonery that envelopes me in its embrace every single day. One of the downsides of this interweb thing is that you have to be careful how much you reveal - we all know about the blogger who was sacked for having an online rant about her boss. So let's keep it as vague as possible: I recently had dealings with a company where being young, good looking and exposing as much cleavage as possible was more highly valued than having a surfeit of grey matter.
Case in point: I had the extreme misfortune of meeting one blonde bimbette who uttered so many inanities, she truly raised the WTF? factor to a whole new level. A smattering of her cerebral gems included:
- "Where is the Thames? I think it runs past my house" (the fact that this chick is from Wales makes that a distinct impossibility)
- "What's an artichoke?" (presumably they don't have them in Wales)
- "What day was last week?" (can I please throw sharp objects at her?)
And we won't even get into her dress sense, which made me question the clarity of mirrors in her household (and which branch of 'Sluts R Us' she shopped at).
Still, as a very dear friend pointed out, at least she provided the boys with cheap thrills and the rest of us with a regular chuckle. A couple of us even started a competition to see which of the various office girls (sorry, they didn't deserve to be called women) most dressed like a whore each day; no surprises that my dumb-as-a-post 'acquaintance' assumed pole position A LOT.
Just before I put away the claws, I had to share this nugget from a woman who must surely be in the running for Idiot Laureate. Mariah Carey is preggers with twins and in an interview with US Life & Style magazine had this to say about the birth process: "I feel like I'm bringing two individuals into the world." She feels like it?? Hate to break it to you M, but there actually ARE two bubs in your puku. Which means, drumroll please, that you ARE bringing two individuals into the world.
As the Guardian so eloquently put it: "Hope she doesn't freak out when they come out with no clothes on either. That's how it's supposed to happen".
Now I am going to go out and wander the streets of Clifton where the strong scent of wisteria will mess with my head (and my hay fever). Your desire that I return less of a bitch will, sadly, remain unfulfilled.