It’s has very little to do with the music of Ozzy Osbourne, but I will say I was, and still am a complete and total fan of the first Black Sabbath album, or at least the first half of it. I remember rising from a grave during a little skit we did as young teenagers back in the day, “what is this that stands before me…” but I digress. It has everything to do with The Osbournes. Yes, Trrish, the kids, and myself were totally hooked on that show, to the point where I’d walk around the house shouting things like, “Sharon, I can’t find my fucking shoes.” Of course I used my best Ozzy impersonation, and not a bad one if I say so myself.
Then one fine night in 2002, backstage in the green room at Madison Square Garden, after a Who show, I couldn’t find Trrish, so I just started doing my little Ozzy bit, and someone turned and pointed, and said “hey Ozzy, how’s it going?” Well I thought that was pretty cool, and continued my search for Trrish in my Ozziesque way. Later that night, a group of us wound up singing songs with Rabbit Bundrick, keboard player for the Who, in the hotel lounge, and proceeded to close the lounge, and move the party off into the streets of Manhattan, where a group of us, now known as The Psycho D 11, sang Who songs, ate pizza, and drank beer until the sun came up. I recorded a number of those amazing moments on video, and in the credits of the finished product, I put something like “an ozzie and sharyon production. Changed the Ozzy to ozzie (lower case o) as more of a Tribute to Ozzy.
So not long after that I found myself in London, and was introduced to a few mates as ozzie, and the first time I heard this line, “ozzie, would you like a cup of tea?” flow out of the mouth of a beautiful young British woman, I knew right there I was on the road to ditching the name me Mum gave me. So it’s now 2009, and I just returned from a three and a half week party in Australia, where I don’t believe anyone referred to me as anything but ozzie, and it was a thing of beauty. Somewhere along the road I changed my email to iamozzie, and the rest, as they say is history.
This explanation goes out to my amazing friend Gina, who I never kissed at the Rod Stewart concert, back in 8th grade. 36 years later, I still can’t believe it.