FatKidsLie

For some reason that I will never understand, it seems that all my girlfriends love David Bowie. In fact I know that two of them became sexually aware while watching Labyrinth.

I on the other hand, became sexually aware while watching my friend’s sister sunbathing when I was 7 or so… but that’s a different story…

It’s not that I don’t understand Bowie’s appeal. It just seems a little odd that there are so many girls that like him and me. In fact, it seems that it is a pre-requisite for dating me (the other pre-requisites are seem to be the love of robots and Mexican wrestlers).

I decided to do a side-by-side comparison of myself VS David Bowie to see what the deal is…

1. The Hair: Bowie has this long spiky feathery hair while I have a smooth polished scalp that reflects sunlight into airplanes so that I have to stay clear of flightpaths or wear a protective mask.
2. The Makeup: Bowie wears more makeup than Tammy Fay Baker while I only wear the most basic foundation and eyeliner…
3. The Clothes: While we both wear tights that show off our junk as, what I believe, is girliebait.. Bowie wears a feathery shirt while I show off my massive awesome luchachest.
4. Mick Jagger: I’ve never had buttsex with Mick Jagger.
5. Goblins: While David Bowie can command an army of goblins I cannot.
6. Children: David Bowie wants to steal your children. It is a fact. He wants to make them into goblins. For his army. I, however, want to steal your babies. To make pies and dumplings. Because that is yummy.

In addition, I do not have an innovative music career spanning 3 decades. Or a house that was designed by M.C Escher. Or an awesome Labyrinth populated by Jim Henson’s awesome nightmares!

I do have a bog though. But that’s mainly because I haven’t cleaned my bathroom in weeks. And I have bad aim.

The year was 1990, Summer… I was a dorky looking 10 year old fatboy with a fannypack full of fake plastic frogs and snakes and bugs etc. My friend Andrew called it a “creepypack”. We all had them. It was our “thing”.

Anydangway,

She was this cute little thing, with an awesome haircut. Her big sister did it for her, half went to her sholders the other half was like… almost a buzzcut. She had green and purple streaks in it. And ALWAYS wore mismatching … well… EVERYthing. She was new wave, even though I didn’t know what new wave was then.

We became “good friends” at the barbecue after “tie dye day” at summer camp. She had some ash or smoke in her eye… i had a bottle of water and i was helping her to clean it out. That’s when her boyfriend came over and tried to pound my doughy ass into the ground. Of course she had a boyfriend. There had to be drama.

For, life without drama is CSPAN.

We went rolling down the “Heart Attack Hill” kicking and punching each other. Landed in the lake. The lake isn’t what you think it is. It is where all the latrines empty out into. It’s a septic tank. And we fell in.

She was laughing as the counselors hosed us off, stripped down. Butt-assed-nekkid. Holding our shrinkaged willies. Crying.

I never got a kiss from her. Or felt up her noboobies. Or nuthin.

I did get a black eye. And a tetanus shot. And a wart on my left middle finger.

It was a good summer.

BTW: Sorry for the absence. I’ve been otherwise detained.