The Integral Bowie Swag Post

In case you haven't noticed, my kittens, I have a wee, teeny-tiny, slight thing for DAVID BOWIE. Pause for gasps. Yes, it's true. And I have amassed a few items with Bowie's lovely face on them over the years that I would like to brag flaunt fuck yeah lookit all my sweet Bowie shit share with you.

The first Bowie Swag Posting comes to us courtesy of the irreplaceable Ashley (I See). Sent straight from London and from the heart, these were purchased at the current exhibit, David Bowie Is, at the Victoria and Albert Museum. You have until August to sell your kidney and visit London to attend. (Sell both and buy me a ticket too?)

As seen in this sadly blurry photo (like holy relics and alien encounters, the mysterious rarely allows itself to be photographed clearly), Ashley sent me a Ziggy Stardust mask/card, a lovely postcard, and a Bowie paper doll book, Bowie Paper Doll The Best Dress-Up Fun You'll Have With A Pair Of Scissors! (And a sweet heart drawn on the envelope, just because.) Let's look inside, shall we?

That's not a glare, that's DAVID BOWIE'S penis shining. Even when made of paper, ethereal BOWIE peen cannot be contained.

David Bowie doesn't NEED two pants legs, mugglefuckers. Two legs are for plebes, humans, and mortals. David Bowie wears what he wants.

Lest we forget that this is a published book available for purchase in retail stores (and does not contain a magical doll that will come to life if placed in a cupboard overnight), this disingenuous figure features Bowie in briefs. I will never be convinced that guitar-playing Ziggy from Mars went anything but commando.

Trending

Things that are becoming a trend:

• Screaming at my clothes. In retaliation to yesterday's closet attack, my favorite pair jeans (aka, the only pair that fits at the moment) decided to gain an extra crease in the wash that I cannot seem to iron out. Thanks, Uniqlo.
  
  

• If it is not 3 degrees below Arctic-norm outside, I have been walking a mile everyday. (As opposed to hiding in bed and watching SpongeBob. What? He lives in a pineapple under the sea.)
  
  

• Friday Quote-Day. It's a thing now. Officially. So that makes this here blog-o-rama all regular like, with a schedule of:
  
  Monday - Wednesday: Potluck
  
  Thursday: Weekly Flâneur
  
  Friday: Friday Quote-Day
  
  Saturday - Sunday: Booze
  
  That, my friends, is at least 3 posts a week, give or take a weekend hang-over. If I'm not careful, FitC may actually become respectable. Eliza Doolittle has become a lady!
  
  
  
• We have recently neglected the real reason why you visit this blog: David. Motherlovin. Bowie.
  "Where," you ask, brow furrowed in confused distress, "where is the Bowie, Natalie? What has become of your undying obsession? Is your love so fickle?"
  
  No, no, my friends.  My love for the lad insane remains tried and true. And as proof, here is the bread and butter of FitC: Pictures of Bowie and puppies. FitC, the go-to place on the web for puppies who look like Bowie! Images after the jump! Enjoy!
  
  

Around London Town

• I was a very good girl last night.

You'll be proud to know, dear ones, that I did not sit in front of Southbank with a sign that read "Bret Easton Ellis is an asshat!" Even though the noted asshat (and my archenemy) was there last night, an ugly blemish on the London Literature Festival's smiling face.

(UPDATE: If you are visiting from another blog (it has come to my attention that I've been linked in  this regard), please read my initial posts on Bret Easton Ellis here, and the follow-up thoughts here for background on why I would hang out in front of Southbank with a picket sign. Thank you kindly.)

Why no protest? Because I'm like Gandhi. (If Gandhi was a whiskey drinking, cursing-like-a-drunken-sailor, feminist, Bowie-lovin', gladiator-sandal-wearin' grad student.*) And Gandhi wouldn't sit in front of Southbank with a protest sign. No sir-ree. He would finish his book and work very hard and not waste his time or money skipping off to see Emo SparkleVamps at the Odeon. Well, maybe. **

• London teenagers are cute. When they aren't screaming "Woooo!" at 3 in the morning.

Today I saw two young girls walk by my kitchen window in matching "I ♥ London" jumpers, hoodies up, and sharing one iPod, the headphones cord binding them together as they walked in unison. It was pretty adorable, and kind of made me want a matching jumper set to wear with a friend. 

• Royal Rumble!

Prince Harry challenges BOWIE for the prestigious title of "Hot Man Who Looks Like A Puppy" on Flâneur in the City!

Check it:

 (When choosing a puppy-look-alike, true contenders go for the matching hair colour look.)

But! The Brits do have a well-established history of looking like puppies. 

And then there's this anthropomorphic feat:

(Awww! Puppy thinks he's an independent colony from Britain! How cute!)

Bonus points if this pup was named Prince.

But, as always, Bowie wins with this shot:

Can you dance with wolves like Bowie***, young Prince Hotness? I think not.


* He very well may have been, before, you know, peaceful enlightenment and all. Bowie is rather transcendent.

** Gandhi would not be Team Jacob.

*** Bowie is Team The Hunger.
And the only living man allowed to sparkle.

Saturn's Return

 (Pride Week on Saturn! Whoo-hoo!)

The Saturn Return. It's new to me.

At 29.5, an astrological destiny declares the threshold to adulthood open and tumultuous* changes occur. Not 18, so stfu, teenagers. 29.5. Which, despite celebrating my 21st birthday for years now, means right around, oh (glance at non-existence watch on arm), right the fuck now.

I think I've already done this. 27 seemed to be my year of upheaval, of quarter-life crisis, of panic and pain. I've got the worry-induced wrinkles and pre-mature grey hair to prove it. Now I just feel peaceful. Even when faced with the uncertainties of the future, of where I will live, and how I will survive and where I will work, I feel a calm sense that it will all work out for the best.**

So come on, Saturn.*** I'm ready. Hit me with your best shot. I got this.

* Tumultuous. I love that word. It's a say-out-loud word. Tumultuous. It sounds delicious.

** Even for my dissertation, which is due in 19 days and counting. 

*** Saturn is a planet.
Like Mars.
Mars, you say? Why, yes, I will use this opportunity to post gratuitous shots of Ziggy Stardust, front man of the Spiders of Mars. And puppies. Is this going to be a trend? I don't know.

I do know that BOWIE and puppies that look like BOWIE make me happy.

And, lest we think I'm biased, a kitty:

See what just happened there? My brain found a way to tie everything back to DAVID BOWIE. If only I could do that in my real life.

Things I Have Been Doing Instead Of Blogging

 - Wimbledon!

At which, I saw the freakin' Queen of England emerge on a balcony like some elderly and sensibly dressed Evita.

 ("Wimbledon welcomes Her Majesty The Queen." Like they were going to turn her away.)

Sadly, I have yet to see Harry or William.

But, I did take a nap in Green Park, adjacent to Buckingham Palace, which is close enough to say I slept next to Harry and Will. Contain your jealousy.

- Elephants!

(Bye-bye, Ellies. I'll miss you.)

The elephant artwork is leaving London. I've been snapping pics like crazy. Y'all wanna see them? Tell me. I'll post. I can't say no to y'all.

- Covent Garden!

 (Covent Garden had a birthday! The banners read: 1830 - 2010) 

 Oysters! Tea! Toy shop! Completely distracting and wonderful!

- Dissertation!

(Actually, don't ask. I'm so tired of thinking about it.)

Oh, yeah. That.
It's due in a month.
Yeah.
You'll forgive me for using my writing time on it instead of bloggin', right, my loves? After all, it's summer. You shouldn't be in front of the computer. Go frolic in the sun. Chase butterflies. Drink booze. I give you permission. We don't always have to be responsible adults. Sometimes, we just need to frolic.

To make up for neglecting my blogging duties, here are some pictures of puppies and DAVID BOWIE. I still love each and every one of you, dear readers. I swear it. No one can be mad at someone who gives them puppies and BOWIE, can they?

BONUS: Puppies that LOOK like BOWIE. Yeah. I said it.

You're welcome.*

 * Sad thing is? I didn't have to look more than 5 minutes for these. I have that many BOWIE and puppy pictures stored on my computer that finding pictures of BOWIE looking like a puppy was the easiest thing I have done all week. And I brush my teeth and scratch my butt** everyday. This was easier.

** No, I don't. But I do brush my teeth everyday. So if my dentist is reading: Told ya so! The Internet now says it's true. And the Internet never lies. Unless the Internet is insulting DAVID BOWIE. Then the Internet is a damned, dirty liar.