Sunday, May 30

Labyrinth.

There is a theory floating around somewhere out there that indicates that the movies I watched as a child have left a permanent fingerprint on my adult psyche.

I thought this theory was absolute bunk until I borrowed Labyrinth from Jory a little over a week ago. I've seen it four times since, and every single time I just can't get over how insanely hot David Bowie is. Lindsay and I hashed and re-hashed nearly every single physical Bowie-feature while we watched the movie last Sunday at her house, and we finally came away with the conclusion that it was probably his accent.

Au contraire, Linds. I have finally figured it out.

I remember thinking when I was little that David Bowie was immensely sexy (if I even knew that word at nine years old). There was just something about that one severely crooked lateral incisor that just made me shiver.

To this day, I can officially say that every single boy except one (and he wore braces) that I dated had a crooked lateral incisor. Every. Single. One.

David Bowie, what did you do to my young, impressionable mind?

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