So today I’ve spent watching Avatar, alternating between ignoring one of my more arrogant coworkers and stealing his sales because I have a horrible budget this week and I don’t like him much anyway, and listening to my department manager’s somewhat questionable taste in music.
I mean, it’s really gay.
ANYWAY. Before Sailor Moon made me question my sexuality, there was my sister’s dance class circa 1996. She used to do jazz and tap and dear gods I would be dragged along to the practices and would want to light myself on fire. So at the end of the year there’s the huge recital with all the classes and soloists and it’s recorded and whatever and one girl, she wouldn’t have been more than 16 or 17 at the time, performed a jazz routine to Michael Jackson’s Smooth Criminal in complete 1920’s gangster regalia, hat and all. At the time I honestly didn’t know why I’d keep watching that 5 minute routine over and over, I just knew I liked it a lot because come on, I was 9. Big words like ‘gayer-than-a-pride-parade’ had yet to enter my vocabulary.
Oh Kid Manda, you really had nothing to worry about when you started questioning yourself 4 years later.