Scene: Sheffield's bar
Characters: Me, friend BZ, random girl
Setting: While I am using the restroom, random girl walks up to BZ and the following exchange ensues:
RG: "Hi...can I ask you a question?"
RG: "My hair...is it blond or brown?"
BZ: "What...it's blond. Why?"
RG: "Ohmagawd...I got my hair done and it's like SO DARK. My friends have all said it's blond, but I don't know...it feels so dark and BROWN!"
BZ: "It definitely looks blond to me..."
RG: "Oh gawd, thank gawd..."
Trixie is a term many people toss around carelessly (as in, I've been called a Trixie, but I really challenge anyone to call me "social climbing", "marriage-minded" or "money-hungry". I'll admit I did love me some Starbucks before a non-fat Chai was $4, but I've never had a Jetta...but I am a sorority girl), but in this case, we felt it was totally appropriate. Several years ago, it would have been worrisome to find one out of their natural habitat, however they have officially moved north, and west of Lincoln Park. I would ascertain that Trixie's are even alive and thriving in Bucktown and Wicker Park. The HORROR.