Mr. Johnson ducked his head to avoid hitting the overhead bins as he shuffled down the narrow airplane aisle. At 6’5″, he’d paid extra for this aisle seat—his knees already protesting at the thought of being crammed into a tighter space.
But when he reached row 23, his stomach sank.
A petite blonde woman sat comfortably in his seat, her legs crossed as she scrolled through her phone.
“Excuse me,” Mr. Johnson said, holding up his boarding pass like a white flag. “I believe you’re in my seat.”
The woman didn’t even look up. “I’m blonde, I’m smart, and I’m sitting in this aisle seat until we land in New York.”
Mr. Johnson’s eyebrow twitched. He gestured to her ticket peeking out of the seatback pocket. “Your boarding pass clearly shows you’re in 23B. The middle seat.”
The window seat occupant—a grandmotherly type with sharp eyes—nodded in agreement. “My Harold was 6’1″ and needed the aisle too. Died with his knees pressed against a tray table, poor man.”
The blonde simply repeated her mantra: “I’m blonde, I’m smart, and I’m sitting—”
A seasoned flight attendant appeared like an aviation angel. Mr. Johnson opened his mouth to explain, but the attendant held up a hand. “Let me handle this, sir.”
She bent down and whispered something that made the blonde’s smug expression collapse. Without another word, the woman gathered her things and slid into the middle seat.
As they deplaned at JFK, Mr. Johnson couldn’t resist. “What magic words did you use?” he asked the attendant.
She winked. “I told her the aisle seat wasn’t going to New York City.”
The blonde, overhearing, turned beet red as she power-walked toward baggage claim.
A blonde walks into the police department looking for a job.
The officer wants to ask him a few questions.
Officer: What’s 2+2?
Blonde: Ummmmm… 4!
Officer: What’s the square root of 100?
Blonde: Ummmm… 10!
Officer: Good! Now, who k-i.ll3d Abraham Lincoln?
Blonde: Ummmm… I don’t know
Officer: Well, you can go home and think about it. Come back tomorrow.
The blonde comes home and calls one of her friends who asks her if she got the job.
The blonde says enthusiastically: “Not only did I get the job, I’m already working on a murder case!”
LOL!!
A blonde walks into a Best Buy.
She asks a clerk if she can buy the TV in the corner.
The clerk looks at her and says he doesn’t serve blondes, so she returns home and dyes her hair black.
The next day she returns to the store and asks the same thing and again the clerk says he doesn’t serve blondes.
Frustrated, the blonde goes home and dyes her hair again, to a shade of red.
Sure that a clerk would sell her the TV this time, she returns and asks a different clerk.
To her astonishment, this clerk also says that she doesn’t serve blondes.
The blonde asks the clerk, “How do you know I am a blonde?”
The clerk looks at her disgustedly and says, “That’s not a TV – it’s a microwave.”
