On any given White Trash Sunday…
…You might find me parked on the couch with a bag of Cheetos and a glass of Chardonnay watching the crazy bitches of Mob Wives smack each other around. You might see my un-showered, flannel pajama’d ass curled up under a blanket browsing for hours on Pinterest and the New York Post. It’s not a pretty site. Guilty pleasures are usually attached to a sense of embarrassment and shame. But as we all know, that feeling is only momentary as the sheer thrill of doing something naughty overrides the gnawing feeling inside telling us to behave.
So, in the spirit of Fifty Shades and the new whips and chains phenomenon, I thought I would indulge you with some of my guilty pleasures.
My Top Ten Guilty Pleasures(the 2012 edition)
- Day Drinking. There is nothing better than Sunday Brunch, playing hooky from work, drinking beer on the golf course, lying by the pool and, need I go on? The pure pleasure of day drinking is that I come home at a decent time, eat dinner, go to bed and wake up not feeling like a dirty bar towel.
- Housewives of…any of them. Although, if I were to rank, Beverly Hills, Jersey and NYC are my faves. Atlanta is okay (Now I’m watching Tardy for the Wedding with Kim & her wigs…good god), DC was a snore and Miami was atrocious. The over-the-top wardrobes, fights and mad cap adventures of bratty rich women clad in booby-baring outfits just makes me warm inside.
- Crime shows. Any and all of them. From the hours watched, I have turned into a mini Jason Bourne and recently almost took down a criminal. Except that he never actually committed the crime. I think he was on to me that I was on to him. I even wrote down his description. I laugh when I see the depiction of the perp laid out on a page in my notebook that surely was going to be the nail in his coffin if and when I was called to testify.
- Music. I’ve been obsessed with music since I was a teenager. I mostly listened to what my parents were listening to, so my first loves were Pink Floyd, Led Zeppelin, Crosby, Stills & Nash. I evolved into The Smiths, R.E.M., The Cure. Then came Billy Holiday, Nina Simone, and BB King. Alternative and Techno followed. Sprinkle in some Singer/Songwriter stuff, one or two country songs (I know, really?) and finally, rounding out my selection is the awful vacancy of Pop music that has made its way to my IPod.
- People watching. And people judging. I cannot help myself. I really love to see the fucked up outfits that people dress themselves in. Living in the city is the perfect arena for this shit show. There are some drag queens down on Halsted that I’ve had the pleasure of shopping with at Whole Foods who really believe they look good. And they do not. There are multiple areas in Bucktown that are filled with lost-generation type souls wandering around in record stores and drinking Starbucks with their Crayola-colored-hair and multiple- pierced faces. I was Goth once myself, but I’m sorry, they are easy targets.
- Facebook. Well, duh. Except for the select few who think they are too good for FB (aka, weirdos), it is a guilty pleasure for everybody. Why wouldn’t I want to know when you are going to the gym or that your relationship status has changed?
- Bacon. The pop, sizzle and smell of Miss Piggy’s hindquarters is enough to wake me from a dream in which I am swashbuckling on a pirate ship with Johnny Depp. I will eat anything associated with the greasy, fatty, salt-laden slice of heaven. There’s the Maple Syrup Bacon donut(whoever came up with this idea is clearly a genius), Hawaiian Pizza with bacon, bacon wrapped dates-and I don’t normally love dates, but I’ll eat the little gut busters if they are snug as a bug in a rug in an oinker blanket- and my new favorite, bacon vodka. Yum. Pour that smooth porky goodness into a tall glass and Bloody Mary me any day.
- ABC Solitaire. The self-described “most difficult, unique and addictive puzzle” had me glued to my Ipad from day one, and we’ve been hot and heavy ever since. In the throes of passion with this timed game, please excuse my rudeness as I only half listen to what you are saying to me. Concentration is key, and earning a high score trumps your I’ve-had-a-bad-day-story.
- Lack of impulse control. Being a neurotic lunatic, I tend to do and say things that are utterly ridiculous. I once was on a treadmill at the gym, headphones on, watching a silent TV infomercial about Sheer Cover mineral makeup. They kept dropping the price minute by minute and the next thing I knew, it was a Limited Time Offer. Must Act Now. I tore my headphones off, went to the locker room, drove home and ordered makeup from QVC. I still have a ton of this shit, as they auto-shipped it to me for an entire year.
- Swearing. Fuck. Shit. Damn. These distasteful, obnoxious adjectives are always there when you need them and are able to punctuate any situation with zest. Whether your day was good, bad or ugly, rolling an expletive off of your tongue simply makes the story better. Swear words have become just as essential as the overused word “like” that has pried its way into our daily vocabulary. I salute the sailors and truck drivers that forged the swearing movement ahead and gave us all that sense of relief that comes with a verbal assault.