God, I love dumb, blonde bimbos.
Willow is just such a girl – dumb, blonde, beautiful, and constantly giggling.
Sure, she can talk about John Locke until her head hurts. But it does start to hurt her after a while, so she has to take a break, go back to the kitchen, and bake me some cookies to make the headache go away (a whiff of peppermint essential oil doesn’t hurt either).
But like most girls, Willow is in her element when she is just being an obedient, dumb little puppet. If I want to talk about Calvinism, I have about 5 minutes before her brain switches off and she starts daydreaming about pink aprons and being sent to the kitchen.
And the thing is, girls, you don’t even have to be blonde. Bimbos come in every imaginable race, color, hair color, eye color – the varieties are endless. The one common thread to them all is that they’re simple minded and happy.
When you’re dumb, you’re happy. The happier you are, the dumber you want to be.
Try it on for size for a weekend. Put down your textbooks and reading glasses and try being a bimbo for two days.
You’ll never want to go back.