As a natural brunette, I have backed up the phrase, “blondes have more fun” with “boys date blondes, men date brunettes” and it has worked out great. So what if blondes have more fun? I’ll be the one pulling ahead down the road with my dapper Mr. Big and my killer job. Take that blondies! Real men want this dark mane. Ha!

But now I’m beginning to realize that maybe my brunette locks aren’t doing so much for me after all.  In a recent article it is stated that blonde women are paid 7% more than brunettes, red heads and even those people dabbling in the purples, pinks and blues. (OK, maybe those last few aren’t so surprising.) And if that isn’t enough bad news for those of us not blessed with Blake Lively’s luscious locks, it looks like blondes also tend to marry wealthier men.

WTF? Can’t you leave a little somethin’ somethin’ for the rest of us?

This better mean there are more people with blonde hair running around; that is the only explanation I can come up with. Or that it costs more to upkeep a blonde mane, so people can afford to dye their hair blonde after landing that amazing job. Or maybe blondes really do have more fun and land the successful business men who need a good time. Or maybe blondes never have fun and still make as much as everyone else does, and these statistics are about as authentic as The Hills. Read More »

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This habit started approximately two years ago when I was struggling with the worst of college relationships—the pseudo-boyfriend. You know him: you two keep it “chill,” hang out and hook up without the constraint of a title, and you can’t get jealous with any real justification, because you agreed on the untitled title.

This PBF had a tendency to keep his exes around (those who made the cut to fill the actual girlfriend position) and answer their calls at all hours. Including 4:00 in the morning, while sleeping next to me.

Bear in mind that my hair was long for over twenty years. We’re talking perfectly straight, volumeless blonde hair to my waist that guys beg you to keep. Hair that you can’t get back. Knowing this, I walked into the salon and firmly told my stylist what needed to be done.

“Chop it.”

I think she almost cried.

The PBF pretended not to notice that I had parted with over six inches. After that, I used it as a metaphor for cutting him out of my life.

After living as an almost-adult for a few months, I felt the need to commemorate my transition period. I noticed one day that my roots were coming in, and it hit me. Bye bye, blondie. I needed to go dark. Read More »

You might know Adrian Grenier as the slightly smug, slightly self-centered, but always adorable Vince from HBO’s hit Entourage. Although I personally think the show’s success has a lot to do with the hilarity of the character actors (including my personal skeevy love Jeremy Piven), Grenier certainly plays a major role in attracting viewers—a fact he has obviously let infect his brain and speech pattern.

As reported by a Radar journalist, Grenier recently showed up at a Lower East Side (read: skinny jeans and soul patches) party and spoke some choice words to a lady he apparently fancied. Instead of attempting to have a nice conversation like the rest of us common folk, Grenier the celebrity went straight for the kill—because, well, he thought he could.

Transcribed via Radar:

Adrian: Hi, what’s your name?

Brunette: [Giggling. It is obvious she knows who he is; she is flattered that he has approached her] Elizabeth*. What’s yours?

Adrian: Adrian.

Brunette: Nice to meet you! And what do you do, Adrian?

Adrian: I make documentary films.

Brunette: Oh really?

Adrian: Yeah. And some other stuff on the side. What about you?

Brunette: I’m in fashion.

Adrian: That’s cool. So how about we go home and I f*ck the sh*t out of you? Read More »