I’m going to freak you out a bit.
I’ve been wildly, excruciatingly, disgustingly, fanatically, head-over-heels in love with David Bowie for the past 3 years. If you’ve read my blog once or twice (yay, I love you!) it’s crucial that you know from this point on that I’m CRAZY (if you didn’t know that already).
My blog is named after Bowie. My bookshelf is covered with Bowie. My music consists of lots of Bowie. I want to be Bowie.
|All my Bowie shit. I had it organized into nice little piles, and then tried to mess it up a bit to make it look like I was cool and didn't care. And then I realized what the topic of this post was.|
I dressed up as Ziggy Stardust (but drew the lightning bolt on the wrong side – I shouldn’t be allowed to live!) for Halloween. Nobody knew who I was. I also danced the Thriller dance with these lovely people below. My conclusion is that BECAUSE I danced to Thriller & was supposed to be a zombie, people were confused.
Stupid closed-minded jerk #1: “Is that a lightning bolt across you face? I guess you’re dressed as Harry Potter, huh?”
I don’t care what you say, you can’t group me with Trekkies. You can’t group me with the KISS lunchbag carrying kids. Why? Well, the difference between me and these super crazy fans is that my object of worship is actually cool.
Other than my everlasting love for Bowie, I’m completely normal...