This One Time I Had a Super Blonde Moment and I Drove a Silverado That Wasn’t Mine into an Amish House

One cold February morning, I woke up in my boyfriend’s bed, panicked. After glancing at the clock I screamed, “Great! Just freaking wonderful! Another day in paradise!” I was running late for work, again. I scrambled through my overnight bag, hopped into some clothes, threw my shitty blonde hair into an even shittier messy bun (that never turns out like the pictures on Pinterest, by the way) and out the door, I went.

I sprinted outside to warm up my piece of shit convertible and what do you know? It was a freaking winter wonderland. “FACKKKK! The roads probably suck ass and this car blows.” Luckily this blondie had a light bulb hovering over her head. My boyfriend, David, had a truck and I prayed that his keys were inside it. BINGO! There they were, in the ignition asking for me to take his beloved Chevy Silverado.


I put the beast in reverse and backed out of the driveway like a boss. Before I had even gotten out it, I was already questioning my decision. I took his truck without asking and I wasn’t sure how he’d feel about that because we had only been together for a few months. But, I justified my Grand Theft Auto by telling myself “He loves me, I’m being responsible right now, I can drive his truck, it’s okay.” LOL OKAY JONNA GOOD ONE!

I began my route to work and what happened next is uncertain. Like I seriously don’t remember for sure because it was that stupid. I’m pretty positive I zoned out, staring blankly ahead at the pavement, but I’ll tell you what I told everyone else; Two miles into my route, I dropped my purse on the ground below my feet and I began to pick up the contents and put them back into my purse. The next thing I know, I’m hitting all sorts of structures and shit.

Now let me defend myself a little bit before I continue further. I’m a blonde. I don’t have many blonde moments, they are very rare. But when I blonde, I blonde hard. I go all out. It’s like I save up my little miniature blonde moments throughout the year and turn them into a super blonde moment. Every year I have one very large shit storm. What I am about to tell you is my biggest super blonde shit storm to date. Judge me you will, care I will not.

Now, let’s move on.

I was going around 45-50 mph when, like a deer, an LP tank came out of absolutely nowhere. Like, this piece of shit was asking to be hit. Just moments before I hit the suicidal LP tank, may he rest in peace, I thought I was going to die. Not only die, I thought I was going to explode. Like hello, it’s gas and I’m nailing it with a truck, that equals explosions.

“Oh my god, I’m not going to exist anymore. I’m going to have a closed casket funeral. Why am I so dumb?”

The impact was hard and loud. The LP tank went soaring through the air and landed at the gates of a pasture, at least 60 feet away. I couldn’t believe my body was still intact! What about all of the movies I had watched that had gnarly vehicle versus gas explosions? Fuckin’ liars.

“I’ll take ‘Blondes Behind The Wheel’ for 800, Alex.”

It’s the daily double!

Yeah, I hit a house, too. I’ve done a lot of stupid things in my lifetime but this one took the freaking cake. Then out of nowhere, barely able to see through the thick gassy fog, the silhouette of a man was bestowed before me.

I had three questions at this point: 1. Is that Jesus? 2. Am I dead? 3. I’m freaking dead, aren’t I?

“HEY! YOU HIT MY HOUSE!” he yelled, panicked. He wasn’t kidding. I crashed right through his bedroom. The mystery man continued to walk towards me and I saw that he was Amish. I was extremely uncomfortable because let’s face it, I had just plowed through this guys house and he was freaking Amish. I wasn’t confident in the whole ‘Communicate with the Amish’ department. But, like I had mentioned earlier, I make a lot of piss poor decisions. Awkwardly, I replied with the best line I had at the time.

“I know. I was there.” I’LL SAY IT AGAIN, GOOD ONE JONNA!


I called the fire department. Twice. In true blonde fashion, I hysterically told the dispatcher that “we are all going to burst into flames and die if you don’t hurry because I have hairspray in the truck and it could explode at any minute.”

Hairspray. I was worried about hairspray exploding when I had just crashed into 500 gallons of gas.

Let that daily dose of stupidity sink in.

Moving on, the fire trucks showed up, somewhat in disbelief on how this happened. A cop took me back to David’s house a full two miles away. During the short ride, I reminded the cop about my hairspray because the dispatcher didn’t seem too concerned. I asked him to relay the hairspray message to the firefighters to keep them safe.

Again, blonde hair.

This bitch right here was so scared to break the news to David. This bitch right here had crashed the truck he loved more than me. He left work early and this bitch right here was relieved when he said he wasn’t upset about the truck. He was just genuinely happy that this bitch right here was okay. Looking back, our relationship was just so new and the poor guy probably wanted to smash my tits between two hot irons.

Later that evening, David went to the crime scene to discuss the bullshit with the homeowners. Apparently, they are all Inspector Gadgets and Nancy Drews because the following is what their very professional investigation concluded:

There were no skid marks on the road showing any indication that I tried to hit the brakes. I made a sharp right at the T when I very easily could have made a very slight left, which would have led the precious Silverado to an open cornfield, unscathed. Basically, they just talked about how I put in a lot of stupidity, effort and belief that anything was possible in order for this to happen.


David’s Silverado was totaled and he didn’t have full coverage. Oops.

The property damage was around $20,000. Oops.

David had to buy another vehicle. Oops.

But here’s what I don’t freakin’ get. Not only did David keep me around after that shitstorm, ten months later, he proposed! Like he’s my husband right now! WTF, right?

So what this Super Blonde Moment has taught me is that if you love your man and you’re ready to take things to the next level, you gotta catch his attention and get creative.

You gotta crash his truck into a freakin’ house.


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