Being blonde, I believe that we're all entitled to having at least a few "blonde moments" in our life time.
One of mine occurred not too long ago. It was Saturday morning, and my roommate and I walked to the cafeteria that was near our dorm. I kind of have a craving for waffles that morning. The caf has two waffle irons that you pour the batter in, close it and turn it. Then a timer starts and you wait patiently while your waffle is cooked.
That morning, one of the waffle makers opened up, so I went on over to it and grabbed the container of yellow liquid. In my defense, nothing was labeled. I know, it's not a very good defense. I've made waffles before.
Anyway, I started to pour the yellow liquid into the waffle maker, and something didn't really seem right. It was thinner than I thought waffle batter should be. My roommate stood next to me and said, "Uh, I think that's butter." I stopped pouring and suddenly realized my grave error.
I poured butter into the waffle iron. Again, in my defense, why was there a pourable container full of melted butter just sitting on the table? Still, not a good defense, but I have to save at least a little shred of dignity.
The workers in the cafeteria came over and started laughing. I apologized profusely. I really did feel bad, because now they had to clean up my stupid error. I said to one of the workers, "I feel really bad! And I feel kinda stupid..."
His response: "Well, I can help you with the first one, but there's not much I can do about the second." I looked up at him and he was laughing. So in shame, I grabbed a bowl of cereal instead and sat down in my chair on the other side of the caf.
I felt like I should probably never go near the waffle makers ever again. I expressed this concern out loud, and my roommate reasoned that I would never do it again because now I knew which was batter and which was butter. I didn't feel convinced however, and still thought I shouldn't use the waffle maker any more.
(Here's where you can laugh at me to your heart's desire.)
I was telling my friend this story on AIM, and she turned it into a metaphor and gave me some advice.
She said that just because I had one bad experience with the waffle maker didn't mean that I should never make waffles ever again. I would be denying myself something that I truly enjoy. She suggested that next time I have breakfast in that caf, I should make waffles, and do it right, thus conquering my fear of the waffle maker.
So maybe I will. Next weekend when I have to get breakfast from the caf, I'll make a waffle, and I won't screw it up this time.
That's all for now.
PS If you can't figure out the metaphor.. well.. I'm sorry for you.