I Have No Shame
I sometimes do, but rarely. When people ask what I’m reading, I admit that it’s fanfiction. I still think The Real World/Road Rules Challenges should be watercooler fodder. I even admit that I find gingers unbearably attractive.
But where do I draw the line? Is it okay to gush to my coworkers about how in love I am with Sharlto Copley? Is it okay to admit I enjoyed Paul Blart: Mall Cop on more than one occasion?
Or is it that I have Bieber Fever?
I don’t actually have Bieber Fever, but if I did, would I admit to it? It’s one thing to love Gaga (as I do), but Justin Bieber is like High School Musical era Zac Efron, only without the festering talent that would later explode into the gloriousness of 17 Again.
The Biebs didn’t even get that hair style first. He’s just ZEfron 2.0. But, again, with less talent and charm (I have no shame in admitting I love the ZEf).
Should I be ashamed that I’ve compared a (how old is he? 12 years old?) boy to a man? (Have you seen ZEfron’s mustache lately?) Should I be ashamed that I’m using gossip style name abbreviations? Should I be ashamed that I made up the phrase “Bieber Fever?” Did I really even make that up, or did I hear it somewhere and forget?
Should I be ashamed that I compare my love for Sharlto Copley to Bieber Fever? (Should I be ashamed that I just noticed that “harlots” is an anagram of “Sharlto?”)
I think Bieber Fever is just that: a fever; an illness. It should not be shared with others.