Writing Stats: Sale! “College Reunion” will appear in C is for Co-Eds. Request for revision for a Wicked Words story. Collated snippets of scenes from Cat Scratch Fever for an erotica contest in a UK magazine.
So, one of the journallers I read started a thread on guilty pleasures, and as much as I hate me!me!s, this seemed less of a me!me! and more of a fun thing to ramble about.
I define a guilty pleasure as something I feel a vaguely guilty or embarrassed about liking, or feel I have to defend. Styx, for example, is not a guilty pleasure. Styx kicks ass from here to next Tuesday. This is not for debate.
But for guilty pleasures, I submit to you…
- When nobody is around (including Ken), I sing to the cats. (I talk to them, too, but doesn’t everybody?) So, yeah, I sing. Obvious songs like “Smelly Cat,” but I also essentially filk to them. “Tiny Kittens” to the tune of “Tiny Bubbles.” Etc.
- Office supplies. I really have to be good and restrain myself, because I have more Post-It notes already than I could use in a lifetime. But like Pavlov’s Bimbo, I salivate at the sight of an Office Depot truck. I’ve been known to follow them…
- Kraft Macaroni and Cheese. If it wouldn’t eventually kill me, I’d probably live on it.
- Streets of Fire. It’s not just the Jim Steinman music. I don’t know what it is. It’s a rock-n-roll fantasy, okay?!
- Charmed. Especially the season with the entirely unabashed “what excuse can we come up with to put them in a silly skimpy set of outfits” theme. Oh, I miss this show. I miss Holly Marie Combs’ cute nose most of all. Jenny Crusie has a wonderful essay about the show here.
- Abba. 'Nuff said.
- US magazine and Google Entertainment News and Sky News Showbiz. It’s that whole pop culture trivia thing. I especially love Us’ column about where stars were spotted, and trying to figure out if I’ve been there, and whether I’d’ve recognized the celebrity in question. You can take the girl out of the small upstate NY podunk town, but you can’t make her stop being just the tiniest bit astonished that she lives near celebrities. I can’t explain it. I just accept it.
- Bring It On. I’m not so sure I feel guilty about this. Yes, I love it because it’s Eliza Dushku in a skimpy cheerleading outfit (and Kirsten Dunst in a skimpy cheerleading outfit). But it’s surprisingly more intelligent and witty than you’d expect from a cheerleading movie. So.
- Goth girls. Blue-black hair, pale skin, lots of eyeliner, (hopefully) ripped fishnets. Yum.
- Night of the Lepus. Giant killer bunnies. Made to look big by putting the camera thisclose! and filming rabbits hopping through model sets. Oh, the cheesy glory. I swoon just thinking about it.
- Chess, the musical. American or British version, who cares. Stuck in the 80s, utterly goopy and over-the-top, and I will sing it at the top of my lungs on my deathbed if I can. If I can’t, I might as well be dead already.
So, what are your guilty pleasures? Spill the beans! ‘Fess up!
<>-<>-<>In other news, Ken’s home!
Currently Reading: The Privilege of the Sword, Ellen Kushner
Lately Listened To: tappity tappity tappity…
Recently Watched: kinda hard with no TV… :-(