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September 16, 2005
Shake Your Love
I am so gay. I didn't realize how gay I was until I went to see Debbie Gibson in a free concert on our trip. Actually, now that I think about it, there were guys there who were way gayer than me. Some guy yelled to Debbie, "Gurrrrrl, I get lost in YOUR eyes, mmm'kay?" and then he sa-shayed away.
She performed a bunch of Broadway tunes for about an hour. I guess she's been doing pretty well in the theatre scene and wants to establish herself as a serious performer. Whatever. It totally put me to sleep. All the queens in the audience seemed to know all these songs. They kept clapping when she started the lyric. I really can't handle those types of songs. Sorry, I did not get that gay gene. I hate show tunes.
I am kind of a sucker for eighties trivia and crappy music though. If they come out with a Trivial Pursuit version focusing on eighties music, I will totally beat you.
She left the stage and put on some jeans, came back, and did all her 80's hits. It must be weird being, like, 35 and singing and dancing to "Electric Youth." I can't even imagine reading things I wrote 20 years ago, much less reciting them. It would be very strange. She seemed to be having a great time and was very friendly. She came into the crowd a number of times and danced with people (aka gay men).
Anyway, a few weeks earlier, Mike, our spin/cycling instructor at the gym (who I have an itty bitty crush on and he knows it) played a Debbie Gibson song during class. He usually plays one 80's song each session. This time it was Debbie's turn. Some woman chimed in rather loudly after hearing the song, "Well, if we didn't know you were gay before, we sure do now." Everyone laughed. It was kinda funny. I could tell he was somewhat embarrassed. I felt bad for him but he did play it off well. After class, she kept going off on him for playing Debbie Gibson. It was weird, though, to try and get motivated hearing one of her songs. "Shake your love; I just can't shake your love..." Um, no. That is not going to make me spin faster.
So because of this whole little Debbie Gibson controversy during class, I thought it a perfect time to get my secret boyfriend spin instructor an autographed picture of her. It is something I would NEVER do for myself but I thought it would be funny to get it for Mike since he seemed to be a fan (even though he's, like, 41 years old).
So we stand in this huge gay line to meet her after the show just to get a little gag gift for a guy we have become friendly with but still hardly know. I suddenly felt like a 12 year old girl. They are selling T-shirts and CDs and pictures of her. I didn't realize I had to buy something so she could sign it. I thought she could just sign my receipt I got from an ATM earlier in the day. My little gag was becoming pricey. I decided to buy the cheapest thing they had, a postcard. It was about 7 bucks. Nice.
It was now our turn to say hi to her. It was very awkward. There were lots of people around us taking pictures. The guys before us were saying things to her like, "You were so amazing tonight" and "You meant a lot to me when I was growing up. Your music helped me get through some difficult times." I'm thinking, "Only in My Dreams" was therapeutic for you? It never really spoke to me quite like that. A couple bong hits usually did the trick.
I could care less about celebrity, any form of it (A-list, D-list, whatever). It just doesn't appeal to me. We're all just people. Well, at least most of us are.
I didn't know what to say after what those guys so passionately said, so I looked at her and just said, "My friend Pam has a nose similar to yours." She tilted her head as if confused and said, "Oh, that poor thing." "No, no, no. Your nose looks great. They just look similar." Okay, this has now gotten beyond weird.
I handed her the postcard and said, "Can you make this out to Mike?" "Of course," she says sweetly. She begins writing. We take a photo with her. She hands me the signed postcard. We walk away.
I read what she wrote. "Mike, so glad we met, Deborah Gibson." Um, no, Miss Debbie. I am not Mike. You did not meet Mike. You totally fucked up my gag gift Debbie Gibson. I'm really pissed at you right now Debbie Gibson. I thought about going back so she could cross that out and write something else, but realized I had already invested too much time in this silly li'l souvenir. I will just let it go. So I did. It's the thought that counts. Got it?
I have yet to give it to Mike. He better freakin' appreciate it.
What the hell am I doing here? Please kill me.
Posted by durban bud at September 16, 2005 07:15 AM
Comments
I am going to kill you since now I have "Lost in your Eyes" in my head. :)
Posted by: Tom at September 16, 2005 10:22 AM
Is that the start of a beard I see on you? Wuuuuf.
Posted by: jimbo at September 16, 2005 10:42 AM
tj tj tj .......are you kidding me.......you seriously said that. when i saw your latest post, or whenever i see that woman I am reminded of years of your observation to the nose. you effing kill me.
too funny.......wish i was there.
ps.......i still love her.
only in my dreams........whatever!!!!
Posted by: Pam at September 16, 2005 11:33 AM
Great. Now I have "Shake Your Love" jammed in my brain. Thanks.
But it was still funny. In a sad, you're such a dork, kinda way. :)
Posted by: stina at September 16, 2005 12:49 PM
Didn't she used to wear like a little bowler hat back in the day too!
Posted by: TOS at September 16, 2005 02:47 PM
She signed it "Deborah".... I'll always think of her as that cute little Debbie girl... nose et al.
Posted by: Matt in LA at September 20, 2005 12:57 PM
isn't debbie's assumption ("...it always 'nose!'"), not *automatically* a silly breeder oversight, part of what'll make this a great story in years to come? give the guy the card already, before you become a spinn(st)er:)
Posted by: steve at December 16, 2005 08:58 PM