With a Cherry on T.O.P.

In case you haven't figured out yet from reading this blog, I was a late bloomer. When my ex-roommates grumbled about their singledom during last year's Valentine's Day angst, I couldn't quite relate -- after all, having lived through eighteen Valentine's Days with nary a paramour to share the day with, the holiday to me is quite like any other day in the year.

But this goes back even further. Back when my first grade buddies were squealing about N'Sync, Backstreet Boys, and oh yes -- Leonardo DiCaprio, the much-better-looking-90s-equivalent-of-today's-Robert-Pattinson-mania, with his boyish good looks as Jack Dawson of Titanic -- I could have cared less. People swooned over the Disney Princes, while the only animated character I was remotely fond of was Dmitri of Anastasia -- and that can likely be attributed to both my lifelong fascination with male hairstyles and my absolute infatuation with the film itself.

But you would think something would change in middle and high school. You would think I would have swooned over Johnny Depp of the Pirates of the Carribean trilogy, over Orlando Bloom as Legolas of the Lord of the RIngs trilogy, or over Brad Pitt as Achilles in Troy like everyone else in middle school; and fine, if you're going to play the race card, maybe I should have been swooning over the stars in the Asian dramas I was watching in high school, like Oguri Shun (Hana Yori Dango) or Daniel Henney (My Name is Kim Samsoon). Don't get me wrong, I thought they were good-looking. But I didn't really have that sort of devotion that, say, my mother has towards Cary Grant.

Cary Grant: for those of you unfamiliar with Old Hollywood, think George Clooney except more mystery and intrigue

No. I was never much of a fangirl. At least, not until Gov. J sent me the link to the music video for "Haru Haru" in her attempt to get me to fawn over her beloved Taeyang, and I set eyes for the first time on -- who else?

G-Dragon: OM EM GEE. SO IRRESISTIBLE. SO MAGNETIZING.
T.O.P.: Dude, no homo.

Granted, I sorta kinda hated the video. I am not even joking when I say it seems like every Asian musician must make a weepy music video with a dying girl in a hospital at some point in his career. Maybe I am just dense about these things, but I could not for the life of T.O.P. figure out what the hell was going on in that video. The girl died at the end, right? If she and everyone else knew she was going to die, why on Earth did everyone keep it a secret from GD? And why did she start the fling with T.O.P. when it was so obvious that GD was still in love with her? These sort of fascinating questions are never considered in film and music criticism, but whatever. My explanation is that the girl, in face of imminent death, decided that her dying wish was to canoodle with the King of Badassery himself on a date in a snazzy car in a parking garage (yes, unconventional first date location, but leave it to Him to keep things original), and so she dumped a pitiable eyeliner-crazy GD. Carpe diem and all that jazz.

And so, that's how it started. My "idol worship" didn't really kick off, however, until I wrote that post about the heretical impostor from F.Cuz and started the whole Cult of Badassery running gag. That's when I realized, "Hey it's actually A LOT OF FUN writing this stuff!!" And so, as of this post there have been seven posts on this blog listed under the tag "Idol Worship." I cannot deny that when I am inspired, writing these satirical stabs at idol worship and religion is personally very entertaining, and it gives me an excuse to fawn over the Badass One himself.

Offline though, I don't think I act like much of a fangirl in person. Granted, I have photos of the Badass One on my dorm room wall, but they hardly take up any space in comparison to my Audrey Hepburn in Breakfast at Tiffany's poster. My friends are aware of my "infatuation" but rarely does the topic enter the conversation. I don't make His image my laptop or cell phone wallpaper. I don't know and can't say any of His Korean lyrics. I don't gush about Him on online forums or other websites. I make a pretty lame fan, come to think of it.

Then it occurred to me this winter break that I come across as obsessed on this blog. After all, any time I mention Him here, I start capitalizing all the pronouns and referring him by titles such as "The King of All Things Badass" and "the Badass One." So, when I got introduced to a friend's cousin last week as a supreme Big Bang/T.O.P. fan, I was like, "Whoa, do I really come across as a mega fan?"

And so, I reread my old posts, and the answer, I must confess, was a resounding yes.

In any case (I got a little sidetracked)... POINT IS, the King of All Things Badass remains my sole celebrity obsession and He never ceases to provide ample material for me to blog about. And now, at Graydyl's behest, I give you another commentary on the One and Only...

T.O.P.

As any devout follower of Badassery would know, the King has recently been making the headlines, thanks to His unit promotion with GD. As any follower of this blog would know, I am more than dismayed by His recent choice of hairstyling.


O Badass One, I know I have not yet reached the Nirvana realm of Badassery, for it has been almost a month since you first debuted this hairstyle and I still cannot get over the fact that your hair looks like somebody went up to Draco Malfoy and chomped off the back sides with a lawnmower before he could make up his mind if he wanted to go for a mohawk or not. The only redeeming factor is that when unpouffed, your hair possesses an uncanny resemblance to Andy Warhol's.

I must confess, the pleasure I take in watching your recent music videos for "High High" and "Knock Out" has been diminished by the fact that I cannot help but notice that you now join the white-hair-buzz-cut league that boasts of these two fellows:

Left: Colonel Quaritch of Avatar, Right: Chip Hazard of Small Soldiers

Nevertheless, there is no denying that your sense of style is as sharp as always.


The problem, though, is that now I have the inexplicable urge to take a Sharpie and color in your hair.

But enough about the hair. O Badass One, I must admit that I did not like the new songs at first -- but a couple of them have grown on me in the past week. I have been quite fond of "Oh Mom" since the start, for you must have heard my prayers and answered with a kickass track with two of the things I love best -- rock music and THAT voice. And I will admit that I didn't like "Knock Out" much, until I watched the music video and the song got stuck in my head.

But Your Badassness, allow me to make one more complaint before I conclude this ridiculously long post.

See this? Let's pretend that graphic on the back of the shirt doesn't exist. Even in a boring ol' white dress shirt and black pants -- EVEN WITH THAT TUFT OF WHITE HAIR -- the Badass One can make panties melt with just a sidelong glance.

So please. Stop hiring those skimpy, leotard-clad bunny back-up dancers in your music videos. Stop hiring those face-painted glitter-splashed Caucasian models slinking around you in pastel midriff tops. It's a waste of money and it's complete overkill, for the King of All Things Badass may be forever badass, but He starts to look a lot less sexy when He looks like He is trying too hard.

Unless, of course, the recent appearance of Caucasian models in your music videos is foreshadowing an imminent trip to the United States. Then by all means, carry on.