Petite Brunettes

I hope everyone had a lovely weekend.  I know I did.  It has been sunny and beautiful in LA, and I was lucky enough to spend most of my weekend at a pool.  I will say, however, that the first trip into the sun with a bikini is a humbling one.  I won’t go into the details, but stuff needs to happen.

One thing that we Americans love about the weekends is the folly of sport.  Yes, some watch a football match at a local sports pub.  Others may make it out to their local stadium to enjoy the sound of a crack of a bat as it hits a baseball.  

A different kind of sport is appreciated at my house.  It arises similar emotions as American sports does for a bevy of straight men.  There are winners.  There are losers.  The uniforms are WAY better than sports jerseys.  Take a look:

Yes, I did a bit of a PSA when Miss Rhode Island won, but I have taught 12 year-old girls for 13 years, and I like it when a cool girl gets props.  I’d also like to say, in my defense, that I was playing Words With Friends that whole time, not reading emails like a douche.  I am infatuated with the decision of the judges to have Rhode Island win.  First of all, she was the shortest girl in the top 5.  There were statuesque Greek Goddesses standing next to her, but that didn’t matter.  My girl kicked some serious ass with the question/answer portion.

She may not be the greatest orator of our time, but compared to the others, she’s Einstein.  

What does this have to do with my Jonathan?  As we all know, Jonathan loves his tall blonde chicks.  This year’s Miss USA is a petite brunette.  I’m a petite brunette.  The tides are turning and the definition of beauty is changing, people!  Short girls REJOICE.  Brunettes, don’t bleach your beautiful locks.  It’s drying, and to be honest, it washes you out.  WE are the faces of beauty.  

Stamos, get on the train.  It’s coming for you.  Feel free to mull it over a bit, but this “you and me” thing is inevitable.