I’m a brunette, but sometimes my life resembles a blond joke
My kitchen, which I am actually starting to use as more than a room to store wine and cottage cheese, is dark. I’ve been ignoring how dark it is by turning on the light above the stove and the one above the sink every time I go in there, for, I don’t know, THREE MONTHS NOW!
I decided on Sunday I would break down and buy light bulbs. Only problem was, they are the long skinny florescent ones. Waaaay more complicated than the regular (cork screw CFL) bulbs I buy for lamps.
So I did what any girl would do. I called for reinforcement from my BFF Karina the Russian.
We decided the “smart” thing to do would be to have the measurements with us, but since neither of us had a pen and paper handy–and by handy I mean in our hands at that very moment–I grabbed my POS phone and snapped this lovely pic.
I don't know why there are lines. I do know that I freaking miss my freaking iPhone!
We left the house in search of the land of orange, also known as Home Depot, where we quickly spotted the isle with light bulbs that look like they belong in a Star Wars movie. We stood there staring blankly at the bulbs until a helpful orange-caped superhero walked up, ready to save us.
Little did he know, we came prepared. I whipped out my phone and, careful not to show him the kissyface photo I sent to ED earlier in the day, showed him exactly what we needed.
He tried really hard not to laugh at us.
Then he asked us if we knew what the length was.
“Length? You mean that wasn’t in the picture?” I asked, completely dumbfounded. Apparently our plan was not so fool proof after all. “Umm… about this long?” I say, now holding out my hands to motion what I later found out was two feet and no, not in the picture.
Feeling slightly retarded, we got our receipt and left our minimum wage superhero with a smirk of amusement from the two bimbos trying to buy a light bulb. Karina looked at me and said, “you know, either this would be the greatest phone commercial ever or the greatest blond joke ever.”
I tell her, “I know! Right? How many blonds does it take to buy a light bulb? Only I’m not blond…”
“Now watch, we will get home and it will be the wrong size!”
And, of course…
We get home, stand on our tippie toes, unscrew the old bulbs (what? We are both super tall. We don’t need no stinkin stools!) and replace them with the new ones.
And… they don’t work.
They were the right size, but for some ridiculous reason that has eluded me, my kitchen is still freaking dark!
So how many blonds does it take to change Summer’s light bulbs? You fill in the blank.
Blogfully yours,
Summer
When I was in college, I worked in retail. I never acted as smart as I am. And through the tears of laughter I used to cause, I would tell my manager I was naturally blond, but would dye my hair brown. He believed me. hahaha.
Your story also reminds me of a birthday card my grandmother once sent me. On the outside, there was a hot, topless guy. And it asked, “How many hot guys does it take to change a light bulb?” The response on the inside? “If you’re in the dark with a hot guy, why would you want to turn on the lights?!” Gotta love the grams!
I’m just as useless buying light bulbs. My solution is to take the old bulb with me to the shop and just ask for a replacement. Works a treat. Also, with the florescent bulbs, they can’t go into the regular rubbish here so the shop will dispose of the old one for me. Awesome.
My most recent light bulb purchase resulted in three new light shades because I neglected to look at how long the bulbs were before buying.
What? I need to recycle them too? Good thing I still have them strung across my kitchen table. Thanks for keeping me a responsible citizen!
I think you should just stick to drinking wine in the dark. There’s nothing wrong with that.