The Blond leading the Blond

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A woman I used to work with used an expression for the woman’s voice on her GPS: “the blond”.  As in, “So the blond told me to go left, but it was a construction zone.”

I now call any directional service “the blond”, whether it’s Google Maps or whatever is being used.

The thing is, with my Far-Away-Boy, he’s got his head in the clouds as much as I do.  The best example was trying to get out of a rather confusing train station at Christmas.  He was using the blond to try to get us to his daughter’s house, but there were a lot of passageways and staircases and elevators and the little blue dotted line on Google Maps wasn’t very helpful for getting us out.  We kept winding up where we’d started. It took us, like, a full hour to finally get clear of the place.

In the end I was laughing so hard at how ridiculous we were wandering around with our noses pinned to our phones, unable to find our way out.  He asked for directions several times (at least he’s a guy who will stop and ask; the joke goes “ten million sperm because only one of them will stop and ask directions”) but it wasn’t really clear to him where we needed to go so the directions weren’t that helpful.

It happens regularly.  The last time it was me trying to get us out of a supermarket. Took us for-ever. The blond leading the blond.

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