When I was 11 my friends decided to drag me to a dark, dank theater of cruelty where they proceeded to scramble my brain with hours of Samantha Fox.
How horrifying was the experience? They had the dance moves, but no boobs to pull it off! The fact that they even tried… It was terrible and I told them so. I felt creepy dirty for days.
They didn’t understand me AND because they didn’t understand or care why I would’ve rather gossiped and talked Sassy, they didn’t speak to me again. So I had few friends until grade eight, at which point I met some kids who had better musical taste; they liked the Cure, the Smiths, Camouflage (remember those silly Depeche Mode copycats?! The Great Commandment is the only song I recall), etc, etc. I was eventually to learn that my new popular friends sucked ass too but they were better than the Samantha Fox meanies. And at least they set me up with some musical avenues to explore until I met my true mates in highschool. (Note to Tracy R. – you didn’t suck, you just disappeared! If you ever read this girl, where the hell did you go?)
What’s the point of my rabid outburst? I should stop thinking about my childhood of musical torture at the hands of 11 year olds and focus on ADULT bliss. I know that Samantha Fox will NOT help me find my bliss.