weird al wednesday

A picture is worth a thousand words-or as many needed to pass an assignment.

I had to pick three pictures to summarize for my class. So, here’s a little backstory to some of my cam-whore pictures. 

Not too long ago, but when I was significantly less mature, I decided that it would be a great idea to go to the local mall dressed as pop-sensation, Lady Gaga. This was a bad idea due to a number of things. One, this is probably rude as hell, two, this was feeding into my need for attention a little too much, and three, I don’t care who you are, it’s embarrassing to say you got kicked out of a public area because you were dressed in a costume you purchased online for that very reason. So, despite warnings from my mother, and accomplice, I brushed out my two wigs needed, hiked up my fishnets, and went. I thought I ought to have a reason to make an ass of myself, so I brought those sillybands that were trendy for five seconds. Upon approaching the mall, we were almost instantly told that we couldn’t “promote” anything by giving away free things, so I dumped them in a nearby trash. Maybe the hobo children at the dump enjoyed them.

(I couldn’t scan the real picture, so this is a stand in.)

From a very young age, I liked to dress up. As a matter of fact, I still do, but hopefully the quality of the sport has improved. I think it’s, for lack of a better term- “blah” to leave the house with only jeans and a tee-shirt. I need color, and accessories to the point where I might as well just cover myself in Christmas lights. This like, most problems with people, stemmed from my childhood, where I would wear anything I could get away with. One day my mother took me to the library while I was wearing a mustache and a tutu, which isn’t far off from something I would do today. I remember adults smiling at me, and children glaring at me. Now, that I’m an adult and I go places looking ridiculous, children smile, and adults glare.

I can’t remember the exact point of time when this happened, but I do remember I was so sick that everything that entered my body had to be liquified. I wasn’t sick enough, however not to see my hero, but I think that sort of sickness is called death. I remember my mother coming to me saying, “You can either go to the hospital, or to see Weird Al”, and, like the fangirl I am, I chose the latter. I remember coughing up blood on the car ride there as we listened to the parody artist sing about food and cancelled television shows.  “We’re going to have fun!” the driver constantly said over and over while I wished I was dead. Upon arriving, I was more excited than I have ever been, but so ill that I had no energy. So, I probably came off as being reasonably excited, because I tend to be over the top. Seeing him made my face light up, and I felt like karma was finally working in my favor because I was being punished so much from my sickness. And, I can honestly say, that I would go through that horrible sickly time just to see Weird Al Yankovic’s reaction to seeing his face in my retainer one more time.