And no, stuff like “I watch Sex and the City/Grey’s Anatomy/chick flicks” doesn’t count. I’m talking SHAMEFUL, guys, not slightly embarrassing.
I’ll pretty much win (or lose) this thread. I know this. When I was twelve years old, I saw a certain musical and then listened to the soundtrack every day for maybe a year. That musical was…CATS.
In my defense, I was young, and at least I didn’t debate what was canon and write fanfic about it. Yes, fanfic exists.
I feel so much better having admitted that! You guys have anything rivaling this?
The Rocky Horror Picture Show?! Pleasurable, perhaps, but guilty? Come on. Would you truly be ashamed to admit to that? I had to go to hours of therapy before I could resurrect MY memory which had been buried for a decade!
I made my mom drive me back to the theater the next day to buy a shirt. With my savings. You know, the shirt that had the cat eyes on the back, only the pupils were dancers.
It’s okay if anybody reading has lost respect for me. I accept that. (I was also, I think, 12.)
As a young man, I had the world’s biggest crush on Olivia Newton-John. And every time HBO played Xanadu, I watched it and sung the songs around the house.
My dad drove me back the next day and I bought the soundtrack and the book. (Okay in my defense, he offered to do that–it wasn’t my idea.) But I must admit to listening to it pretty much nonstop for a long time.
Xanadu? Now that’s the kind of guilty pleasure I’m talking about!
I used to be able to tell you which Jean Claude Van Damme movie had which variation of the same basic plot. Couldn’t get enough of the little Belgian dude. In a purely carnal lust way.
I’ve got you all beat. I re-read certain sections of The Painted Bird. Those of you who’ve read it will know what sections I’m talking about.
Don’t ask me why I re-read them. The older me says maybe it was because I couldn’t believe what I was reading and had to read it again to see if the words changed. But to be honest, the younger me had a fascination with depravity.