12 June 2010

'Cause I'm a free bitch, baby'

Dissect Gaga and what are you left with? A legend quite rightly placed alongside Madonna on the Glee trophy shelf? Or a melodramatic blond who sports a variety of different wigs paired with imaginative outfits (of someone else's imagination, let's not forget) and several headpieces that would be considered vulgar if they were, instead, perched on a non-famous head? A living, breathing (and, God knows, singing) mannequin. The question as to precisely why she is famous - for her songs (which frankly are all so 'samey' that in the opening bars it is often hard to decipher exactly which song one should be tunelessly wailing along to)? Or for her 'outrageous' sense of fashion (which isn't really 'hers' but really belongs to the AMAZING designers who clothe her)? - is often quashed by her celebrity status and all that is Gaga.

In reading that you'd be right to assume I am not this new 'man-proof' figure's biggest fan. And yet you'd also be wrong...
I find Gaga to be a somewhat guilty pleasure of mine, not unlike the secret stash of porn which, as a feeble 11 year-old, I was shocked to come across when playing hide and seek in my friend's brother's bedroom. Though I feign disgust when the subject of the figure now being dubbed as the 'queen of pop' inevitably crops up when chatting with my somewhat unhealthily obsessed male friend ( gay and unnaturally yellow-haired... it's to be expected), I cant help but find myself questioning my own line of argument; I'm literally tempted by the dark (or freakishly blond) side. My self-confessed 'Gaygay' friend brought up her recent episode on stage (the breakdown over fears for her sick grandfather) expecting me to be full of witty critique over her newly discovered diva-ish ways and armed with several pre-concocted jokes based around the fact that, just because they've shared a song, Gaga has no right to go Beyonce (who has earned the right to be a Diva Queen and can have any number of staged stage breakdowns; my adoration for this curvy goddess will be unwavering) on our asses. However, and in admitting this I am blushing with pure red-faced shame, I can't help but believe her concern is genuine; she is truly so saddened by Grandpa Gaga's current state of health that she can't even choke out one of those (in)famous tunes.

Even as I sit here writing this post (instead of revising Maths, I confess) two of her songs have played - Bad romance and Alejandro (the latter of which, I must admit, I actually sang along to) - with a promised further 'fix' to come. No doubt the DJ has been inundated with angry text messages now that Alexandra Burke's howls fill our ears.

So, in the same way that bisexuals cant decide between lads and lasses, I find myself almost bi-Gaga; Gaga-curious, if you will. As to whether I'm alone in my confusion I do not know - so far she has appeared to be a 'marmite-girl', you either love her or you hate her, which makes me fearful for my chances. But, whether my conflicting feelings of both enthrall and disgust towards her general 'Lady Gaga-ness' (insert: outrageous) are a shocking rarity, or not, I know one thing for sure:

If the opportunity were to present itself, I would go lesbian for Gaga.

4 comments:

  1. your were a porn voyeur at eleven? huh.... im suprisingly unphased.

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  2. no i merely STUMBLED across it in a like seventeen year old boy's bedroom. THANKYOU.

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  3. SURE. ALSO, I LIKE YOUR USE OF RHETORIC.

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  4. I would almost definitely go gay for gaga.
    And though you may have turned your argument around... I still hate the way you diss her.

    YOU DIZZY BLUDD DISSIN MA GAGAGAGAGA?!?!

    :)

    ReplyDelete

Dare to be true: nothing can need a lie: A fault, which needs it most, grows two thereby.
- George Herbert

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