today i was wandering through on my way to work (i do that sometimes, just wander through), and i realized that somewhere in a blonde, icy, and distant (maybe european?) place, i meet every aesthetic requirement of their blonde and icy culture. they would think me a godesse. i would be their ideal, the muse of their artists and poets. they would dress me in their turtleneck sweaters and oddly-well-fitting pants. but then i looked around the faces in the crowd and in all that diversity i realized that, in other cultures, the not-blonde cultures, i am their godzilla. i am the lurking, hulking symbol of dread and awe (not the good kind) that haunts their nightmares and horror movies. these cultures use me to scare their children into obedience and their women into submission. it goes to show, it's all about perspective.

speaking of perspective, i saw a pink egg-timer the other day that made me sublimely happy. maybe i lambast the 50's housewife archetype so often because somewhere deep inside of me, i'm already a 50's housewife. just waiting for the apron and the string of pearls. i guess it's time to embrace the donna reed in me.