Guilty Pleasures
by matt at 7:00 am on January 20th, 2004 in General
Everyone is ashamed of some of the things they like. The idea here was to gather some people and let it all out.
Thanks to all who participated, we promise not to hold it against you.
Jenny Francois – Aeki Tuesday
When I was in my early teens, I had a penchant for leaving an
abundance amount of toenail clippings in other people’s rooms. I
would get an itch to clip my toenail every now and then. To alleviate
the problem, I’d find my trusty nail clipper (never left home without
it) and go to town. It didn’t matter whose house or room I was in at
the time. I rarely discriminated when it came down to doing the
business. I only got caught twice. I was very proud of my stealthy
toenail-clipping phase. My victims, who received some sort of
tongue-lashing by relatives and their significant others, were not.
Lindsay Robertson – Lindsayism
Reader’s Digest
In this cultural climate, at least in New York, it is now perfectly acceptable for an intelligent, sophisticated person to have an ironic subscription to US Weekly. However, even if one were stranded on a deserted island with no reading material except Reader’s Digest, fear of discovery and subsequent humiliation would prevent one from even perusing the table of contents.
I, however, have read every issue since 1975, which is two years before I was born.
It started when I was around 7 or 8. I was a compulsive reader of the “Lather, Rinse, Repeat” level of extremity, and my parents had a subscription to the magazine. So, I started checking the mail so I could get to it before my mom. But, after a while, once a month just wasn’t enough, so on rainy Saturdays, I would have my mom drop me off at the Public Library, where I would hang out and read all day. I read real books too, of course, but my favorite thing to do was grab a stack of RD back issues and spend three or four hours reading uplifting stories of people who made public gardens out of empty lots, learning how to check my breasts for cancer, getting the shit scared out of me by Drama In Real Life (stories of people who almost died but didn’t), and saving my favorite feature for the end: the jokes. If I have any sense of humor at all, it’s because I spent most of my childhood examining every bit of family dialogue for possible designation as a “quip.”
So far, I’m off the hook, because we all did embarrassing things as kids. But there is just no excuse, none, for the fact that my parents know to save every issue for my visits home, and for the way I stay up late catching up the first night of each visit.
Laugh all you want, but I know that my lifelong secret addiction to Reader’s Digest has benefited me in countless ways. From my skill at Trivial Pursuit, to my knowledge of rare childhood diseases, to my scores on standardized tests, somehow all those articles, conveniently pre-digested for the average American have turned me into a walking vessel for random and seemingly useless information. Once, on a job interview, when asked “What is your dream in life?” I said “To one day have a humorous anecdote published in Reader’s Digest’s Life In These United States.”
And I got the job.
–tangerine dream. Ugh. But the risky business soundtrack has some great moments,
as does the soundtrack for legend…and yes, that includes the bryan ferry
single, “loved by the sun”. I’m going to go retreat into my edgar
froese-despising hole now. And yes, I liked fischerspooner and DFA material, too.
Though I guess the DFA still has ‘cred’ given the former UNKLE roots.
–coldplay’s “clocks”. this, despite that nasty peter pan trailer.
–Jay-z. I have to admit, I pretty much HATE jay-z’s material something awful,
but, dammit, he’s worked with some great producers, illicitly or otherwise, so
listening to this guy is sort of a requirement if you want to listen to some
otherwise great records. These include his collaborations with kanye west (encore
and lucifer: great tracks; the blueprint, less so) and the neptunes, as well as
the bootleg mixes of his work with andrew broder of fog, and danger mouse’s
full-length mashup of his black album with the beatles’ white album. Excellent
stuff, though for all practical purposes I’m always spouting off about how much I
abhor the self-destructive faux-thuggish state of popular rap music in general
today, a scene for which jay-z is one of the chief ambassadors.
–Having been registered to vote since turning 18, but not having actually voted
in any relevant election until the 2000 democratic primaries in california, when
I went the bill bradley route, mostly to show displeasure with al gore’s terry
mcauliffe-endorsed message at the time. And speaking of ‘displeasure’, I guess
this is just that– a guilty displeasure. Terrible, terrible shame, particularly
given my subsequently passionate interest in voting behaviors and voting policy.
–gawker, and on occasion, page six. And, to a similar extent, us weekly, though
it helps that I have access to free copies, because the thought of paying for any
of this sort of content is anathema to me. Adorno be damned.
–bad, bad, bad films. Seeing far too many of them, and only liking 1-2 percent
of the films I see, like, maybe, 4-5 a year at most.
Peabs has so many. Smack, saccharin, animal pornography. But my guiltiest pleasure of all was “Mr Belvedere.” The theme song alone was incredibly poignant for a young and growing Peabs:
Streaks on the china,
never mattered before,
who cares.
When you dropped kicked your jacket
As you came through the door,
No one glared.
But sometimes things get turned around
And no one’s spared.
All hands look out below T
here’s a change in the status quo.
Gonna need all the help that we can get.
According to our new arrival
Life is more than mere survival
We just might live the good life yet.
The Owens family was much like the Peabs fam. Gay butler, awful former baseball player father, drug-addicted mother. There were times I would watch the show and cry, for I felt like I was Kevin (Rob Stone). Terribly awkward, yet still pretty and overshadowed by a younger brother (Aaron Peabs was sooo Wesley).
It was extremely hard on my childhood when “Mr. Belvedere” fell to the wayside. Upon Christopher Hewitt’s untimely death last year, I felt it necessary to pay tribute to the once great sitcom by tattooing his face on my scrotum. I couldn’t think of a better way than to have you literally licking my tees, Chris. Obvs.
Ian Steaman – Note from a Different Kitchen
Music:
Curiosity Killed the Cat — Keep Your Distance: this is pretty much drab mid 80’s UK pop-funk-soul but I am strangely drawn to this album despite that. I’ve considered selling it a bunch of times over the years but always end up keeping it. Truly embarrassing (at least to me).
Petey Pablo — Blow Your Whistle 12″: really corny record with a kiddie-like whistle hook by a reasonably respected southern rapper. Admitting you like this record in hip hop circles is opening yourself up for derision but I like it anyway.
Lil Bow Wow — Take Ya Home 12″: another hip hop record for the kiddies. Great club-friendly beat but if you played this in any kind of credible hip hop club, you’d get laughed off the 1200’s.
Jamiroquai first 3 or 4 albums: which are actually not bad but this UK jazz-funk buffoon has long since been relegated from ranks of hip to being a fave of the volvo, yuppie set who thinking liking him makes them cool. I still like those albums though even if I haven’t actually played them in years.
Warren G — 1st and last album: he managed to turn hardcore gangsta rap into elevator music which is no mean feat. Admitting you like him beyond his (uncredited) production work on The Chronic and Doggystyle though is grounds for revoking of your ghetto pass but I’m still an unashamed fan of both of these albums.
Movies:
Titantic: a big-budget chick flick that I have to say I really enjoyed.
Blue Chips: just a plain bad sports movie but I watch it every time I come across it on cable.
Making the Grade: horrendous mid 80’s cash-in spoof of the preppy fashion craze starring Judd Nelson that’s pretty much terrible but I loved it when it came on cable back then. I even own it on DVD (although it was given to me as a gift, which I guess shows how much I must have liked it that someone thought they needed to buy it for me)
Men in Black and MIB II: based on a supposedly cool comic book. The first one’s actually not that bad for a summer popcorn movie but the second one is horrible but I watch it every time it’s on cable (which is way too much currently).
Pretty in Pink: a cloying and sentimental inter-class teen romance but weirdly appealing. At the time I actually thought Andrew McCarthy was kind of suave and charming in this movie and modeled my own high school mack game after this clown. Ouch… now that’s embarrassing.
TV:
Queer Eye for the Straight Guy: I swear I’m not gay (not that there’s anything wrong with that…) but If I ever see this on when I’m watching TV, I end up watching and kind of enjoying it.
Other:
2000AD comic books: very cool to read as a youngster in the UK back in the early 80’s. Admitting to still being into it now and spending time on eBay collecting those early issues, like I do, is pretty much relegating yourself to sad geekdom.
OK, now I have to go play some DJ Whoo Kid’s Global SWAT team and get my online thug on and cool quotient back up. LOL.
Forager
This probably doesn’t seem like much, especially after reading this week (NYPost article) that posh club VIP areas are sporting PS2’s and XBOX’s on huge plasmas… but I am addicted to the PlayStation 2. Normally this wouldn’t be a problem, but after spending the entire Christmas holiday (got the Friday off, so it was a long weekend) playing and beating the newest Lord of the Rings – Return of the King game, I knew I had a problem. Oh yeah, did I mention I didn’t merely “beat” the game – far too simple a proposition. You can play up to 8 or 9 different characters in it, so I took each one through every single mission – completely defeating the game in all aspects. Help!
From what I last remember the New England Journal of Medicine recommends a drink or two a day – it’s actually “good” for you! I definitely partake. I don’t over do it, and I do remember what happened the previous night (most of the time). I am a vintage barware and book fanatic. I own a handful of old cocktail shakers. I have spent literally hundreds of dollars on old bar equipment, from ice crushers to intricate stirring spoons to exotic glassware. And then there are the books. I own dozens of old prohibition era cocktail books – many calling for alcohols that are no longer in existence! I can’t stop myself – and I do use everything I buy so I guess at least it isn’t going to waste.
2 words – Sky Mall! I fly a lot, and during this time I have become addicted to Sky Mall. A closet sky mall’er! Why would I need a signed 69 Jets football helmet? To compliment my antique popcorn machine, or maybe my ambient mood light beverage chiller. And if don’t like it, maybe I’ll just take my $300 replica Archangel Michael sword and go home! OK I don’t own any of these things… but I drool over them constantly, 30k feet up between DC and NY, LA and SF, or Denver and Chicago!
Greedo
I have one pleasure that I am very guilty about. It’s
not very embarrassing, or anything my roommates will
get pissed about (Rev. didn’t know you used THAT
pillow, honest) or fiancée might enact the silent
treatment over (baby, the site’s going to make us
beaucoup bucks), but it could damage the relationships
I have at my job, hence the guilt.
So, I recently proposed to the fiancée, in fact it was
almost seven weeks ago, and we are currently preparing
to be married this fall. The planning is actually
pretty fun with the flowers and balloons and clowns…
um… right. Anyway, she lives in the booming
metropolis of Kalamazoo in southwest Michigan. After
much deliberation, we have agreed that I will move
from Chicago to Kazoo this summer to start our new
life together.
Sounds peachy, so where does the guilt come in?
My managers know that she’s not going to ever move to
the city so I haven’t told them we’re even engaged,
and consequently of my plans to move, or that I plan
the wedding mostly during work hours, in my office,
with my door shut, in a hushed voice, sans pants,
while my colleagues call national trade and business
reporters in the offices next to me thinking it’s
business as usual.
I know, it’s not the most controversial guilty
pleasure, I’m just trying to cover my ass for the next
few months so I can keep getting new projects and a
raise. It still sucks for not telling everybody–my
boss just got engaged and they’re throwing her after
work and after work party. Someday I’ll tell them.
The anticipation is killing me, I hope it will last.
Jamie – 1115.org
My life is a guilty pleasure, but I’m pretty much an open book about it. When my best friend was preparing my future husband for our first date she told him very little about me, only that he would probably like me and that I had very bad taste in movies and music (she left my white hot hottness out of the mix). Evidently the mix tapes I made her as birthday presents when we were in high school were the butts of many a joke. In college I was actually banned from Blockbuster by another friend after bringing home 3 clunkers in a row (I believe I SHOT ANDY WARHOL put me over the edge) – I’m the girl that rents the really “interesting” movies that went straight to video, and sometimes I like them.
I have really bad taste in just about everything (back before my dairy intolerance I preferred Kraft Mac and Cheese to my mom’s homemade and my brother the clotheshorse/ metro-sexual is embarrassed to be seen in public with me) but I’m not really ashamed of any of it. That said, I get made fun of quite a bit for the following:
–KICKING AND SCREAMING is my favorite movie
–MUSIC: MORRISEY, SUZANNE VEGA and BILLY BRAGG
–MUSICALS: INTO THE WOODS and THE FANTASTIKS and BRIGADOON
–when GENE KELLY died I went into mourning
–Sam (future husband) doesn’t let me get People Magazine sent to the house so I have to go my shrink’s office 1/2 an hour early every week to get my fix.
–TV: Trading Spaces, While You Were Out and HOUSE RULES!. . .duh
–FOOD – American Cheese and The Number 2, super-sized with a coke. Also, canned black olives, which I am no longer allowed to eat because of my proximity to SAHADIS, the really good middle eastern market, but canned olives are so good!
And the super-secret guilty pleasure that only Sam and my intern know about: LIZZY McQUIRE, JOAN OF ARCADIA and MISS MATCH!
Sam – 1115.org / Eventual Motion
When I was 11-years old, I was given a choose-your-own-adventure book of a
different color: the adventure was football. In the book, you made decisions
for your team during the game, such as choosing which plays to run, and
which players to insert or remove. You were then were sent to different
sections of the book to learn your team’s fate.
That was fun, but the best part for me was the full roster of made-up
players in the front of the book. It so inspired me, this roster of
fictional professionals, that I went out and created an entire football
league of my own, with full 40-man rosters, schedules, statistics, and I
even played a game or two (yes, by myself, plastic football helmet strapped
to my head) in my front-yard.
This obsession then filtered into basketball, and I created an entire league
of teams which routinely expanded every 3 years or so. The NRBA started with
4 teams and worked its way up to 16 over the course of about 12 years. I
lived through players that I made up in my head, envisioned their
personalities and could tell and retell their life stories.
Now that I have entered adulthood, it’s time to utilize technology to
further engage my sporting fantasies. Sony Playstation 2 has been a perfect
way to do that.
Enter the Detroit Tigers, but not as you know them (those of you who are
familiar with the non-exploits of Major League Baseball’s worst team.) I
created 25 entirely fictional players and had the Tigers sign them. I am now
in the final days of their second complete baseball season. It should come
as no surprise that the Faux Detroit Tigers won the 2003 World Series——aided
by the heroic efforts of MVP outfielder Kevin Dale and ace left-hander Roy
Truly——and are presently in the midst of a bloody battle with the Oakland
A’s in the 2004 American League Championship Series.
Again, I breathe with and for these players, and their lives explode in
full-color reality, both on my TV screen and in my head.
For those interested in in-depth look at the progress of the 2004 Faux
Detroit Tigers, a good place to go would be
http://www.eventualmotion.com/2004ldsrecap.html, which has links to stats
and standings from the 2004 season and an overview of the 2004 playoffs,
updated, of course, as soon as each game is completed.
Since the mercury generally climbs to about 8 above zero these days in the
Big Apple, I don’t worry about the fact that I don’t spend much time outside
my apartment.
Jason – 1115.org
–I’m no Vin Diesel. I’m not even a good Paul Walker. And, to be honest, I thought that both Fast & The Furious movies were pretty stupid. But that hasn’t stopped me from spending a big chunk of money to modify my Honda Civic Si. From the engine to the suspension, I’ve tweaked what was a perfectly capable stock automobile to make it faster and more agile. Considering that California’s roadways often resemble a perpetual parking lot, it could be argued that I have wasted a lot of money. But on the right road, on the right day, it’s all worth it. That is, until I convince myself I need something faster. “Need” is such a subjective term, isn’t it?
–Ah, the hamburgers of White Castle. Besides being immortalized in many a Beastie Boys song, they also get the nod as a guilty pleasure. It’s hard to say what makes White Castle so compelling, since their mini-sized burgers (actually called “Slyders” in WC-speak) consist of approximately 80% bun and are served in establishments that share a lot of demographics with the “dirt mall” in Mallrats. Whatever the case, I could go for some White Castle right now. Too bad the nearest location is about 1,500 miles away. I suppose I could go to In & Out Burger, but it’s not the same…it doesn’t feel quite as much like slumming.
Real World / Road Rules Challenges
Having watched the Real World since season one, I’m no stranger to guilty pleasures. I’m at peace with my hatred of myself for watching it. I love to make fun of the assclowns that are picked to live in the fishbowl each time, and with each passing season the level of stupidity has been raised.
But I just can’t forgive myself for watching people who already annoy me compete against each other in lame Survivor-style contests for massive amounts of cash. Through relentless reruns, MTV has managed to make pseudo-celebrities out of these whores, and the challenges are the second-generation compound interest of that celebrity. The depth of my despair came two seasons ago when I actually registered to play in their online fantasy game. I picked the whores I thought would combine skill in the mission with maximum potential for drama in a vain attempt to make some money off of my pathetic addiction. I don’t know whether it is good or bad that I finished in the bottom 10% out of hundreds of thousands participants.
A new challenge called The Inferno is slated to air soon. Like every other time, I have promised myself that I will not watch. I hold no hope of following through on this promise. Seems it is easier to kick a drug habit than to stop watching these whores twice a year.
My other guilty pleasures:
Beverly Hills 90210 – I’ll watch this show until the day I die
Nelly – I want to hate, but instead I appreciate
Drinkable yogurt – much more about this later in the week