The “Ex” Files

Ah, our exes. What would we do without them? Some still love us. Some hate us. Some express their anger with colorful profanities and hand gestures hurled in our direction at every opportunity. Some disappear never to be heard from again. (I don’t know anything about that.) And some pop up every few months or so like Bob Dole. Well, maybe not exactly like Bob Dole.

Anyway, it started last weekend. I was over at a friend’s house on Saturday night when out of nowhere I got a text message from an ex-girlfriend. I hadn’t spoken with her in about nine months. (The fact that this time period is roughly the same as the normal human gestation period is purely coincidental. I hope.)

I don’t remember what the first couple of messages said. Just general small talk, I guess. Said she was having a bad week or something. Then it started. I kept the next four messages on my phone just for the purpose of blogging them. (Spelling has been corrected because, well, that’s just what I do):

“Just know I love you with every fiber of my being, but I have faults.”

Um, OK.

“You are who I love and want to spend forever with.”

Um, have you been drinking? (I actually sent that to her.)

“In my heart there has never been anybody else that compares to you. Just know you are who I love.”

Where is all this coming from? (That, too.)

“You are it for me. I have things to tell you. Just know it’s always been you.”

What the crap? I mean, seriously. Who says this? This isn’t like, “You wanna go out to eat sometime?” And where is this coming from anyway? Is it some sort of pre-Valentine’s Day loneliness thing? Why didn’t she say all this when we dated?

And the thing is, I know that in all likelihood, this is a bad idea and would never work. But by this time, it’s like a game of Space Invaders. I have my defenses up, but every text message she drops eats away a little bit more of my shield.

Fortunately, I am able to ward off the attack. I get like a text message a day for the next three or four days. Not responding to half of them. Then this past Saturday night, I get this message:

“I have cool whip…”

Again, what the crap? How completely random!
I respond with: “OK?”
Then I recieve: “Sorry. I thought you liked cool whip.”
That was followed last night with “Is there anything I can do to get you back into my life?”

No… I don’t think so.

I get yet another message this afternoon. To me, if you need to text more than two or three times, you might as well call. So I finally text her back and tell her I’m tired of texting, and that if she needs to talk she can call. After all, I do consider her a friend. And actually, I could totally hang out with her, but I know that she would want more. And I wouldn’t.

But then I start to think. Someone baring their soul can sometimes do that to you. I start to re-evaluate everything. Maybe there’s something I missed. Who feels this way about me. I’ll be 33 years old in twelve days. Never been married. No kids. Maybe it could work…

No… No… It couldn’t…

Anyway, that’s the last I heard from her. She hasn’t called. Which is probably good. My shield is almost completely gone. And I could be running out of quarters.

“And the tears come streaming down your face. When you lose something you can’t replace. And you love someone but it goes to waste. Could it be worse?”

That flash before your eyes thing

Reports of my demise are greatly slightly exaggerated…

This is the blog entry that almost wasn’t. From the blogger who still is. After the accident that almost did. But somehow didn’t. Got that?

My Friday night was just starting. I was on my way to shoot pool around 7 PM. I had just turned north onto Danville Road from Moadus when it happened. Or almost happened. Now, although an ASCII diagram would probably be better to illustrate my story, I’ll just try and use words to describe it. Actually, what would be really cool would be if I had one of those NASCAR in-car cameras and could just stream the video online for you. Not that I know how to stream video. But anyway…

Danville Road is five lanes at this point. For the purpose of this story, I have numbered the lanes 1 thru 5, from west to east. The two southbound lanes are lanes 1 and 2. Lane 3 is the turn lane. And the two northbound lanes are 4 and 5. I am in the far right lane, from my vantage point, lane 5. I had just passed two slower cars to my left, in lane 4. And I would guess that I was going 45-50 mph at this time. It’s hard to say, since I don’t often do a speedometer check. As evidenced by my four traffic tickets (although only two were for speeding) and a few warnings. But, I digress.

The next series of events takes place in the span of probably ten to fifteen seconds. Just as I get past these two cars, a large white truck no doubt carrying some idiot rednecks pulls out right in front of me from one of the side roads to my right. It is apparently turning left to go south. But I guess the driver sees me and then just stops, but is completely blocking my lane. I don’t have time to stop.

I think about my fish. Who will feed Pablo when I’m gone? Who will dance for him?

My instinct and only option is to swerve into the other lane to try and avoid the truck. Somehow I manage to do that. But I quickly realize that the sharpness of the turn coupled with my speed has my car on the verge of being out of control. I try to correct, but it’s too late. The back end of my car is coming around to the right. And I start to skid down lanes 3 and 4.

I think about Frolf. And how even if I live, I might be mangled and never be able to play.

It is at this point that I think of the one and only thing I remember from Drivers Ed: Steer into the direction of the skid. So I do. But I overcorrect. Now the rear of my car comes around to the left side, and I am sliding drivers-door-first down a fairly busy street at 7:00 on a Friday night.

I think about 24. And how I’ll never know if Jack gets Walt. And will Chloe ever trust men again? And what about the first lady. What’s going to happen to her?

Now, not only am I skidding drivers-side-first down lanes 4 and 5, but my car also seems to be slowly veering towards the curb. Which also means road signs, mailboxes, and utility poles.

I think about my blog. Who will let my blog friends know I’m gone? Then, I think that over time, everyone will leave many comments asking if I’m OK. And then when someone finally posts a comment letting everyone know what happened… it would be my most-commented post ever!

I have already begun steering the other way, into the direction of this skid. Suddenly, my car turns all the way around, doing a complete 180, and coming to rest. At last. Except that as it spun around, it crossed the entire highway and has come to rest in the middle of lanes 1 and 2. So at this point, my car is stopped, pointed towards the west side of the road. Right in front of oncoming traffic! I look up to see cars in both lanes bearing down on me!

I think about the things that have flashed thru my mind. My fish. Frolf. 24. My blog. If these are the first things I think of, what does that say about my life? Maybe I should just sit here. Close my eyes. And see what happens.

Anyway, back to the story. Again, all this happened in the span of maybe fifteen seconds. So I look up and see two sets of headlights coming towards me as I’m sitting still. Fortunately, my car is still running. So I do the only thing I can think of. I cut the wheels all the way to the left and I lloor it. Amazingly, no one hits me. And I don’t hit anything. I turn into the first place I see, which just happens to be a church parking lot. I stop the car. My hands are shaking. I just sit there for a moment to recover.

OK, I didn’t really think about all those things. Actually, I think pretty much my only thought was: Don’t die, don’t die, don’t die. Because living is good. And dying… not as good.

I never saw the white truck again. In retrospect, I was just thinking, there had to be several witnesses to the “wreck that wasn’t.” Wonder how one would go about getting in touch with such people. Because I would give anything to meet the driver of that truck.

You know, just to let him know that I’m OK ;-)

“My friends all grew up, and they settled down. In nice little houses on the outskirts of town. They work in their office. Tnd drive SUV’s. They pray for their babies, and they worry ’bout me…”

That flash before your eyes thing

Reports of my demise are greatly slightly exaggerated…

This is the blog entry that almost wasn’t. From the blogger who still is. After the accident that almost did. But somehow didn’t. Got that?

My Friday night was just starting. I was on my way to shoot pool around 7 PM. I had just turned north onto Danville Road from Moadus when it happened. Or almost happened. Now, although an ASCII diagram would probably be better to illustrate my story, I’ll just try and use words to describe it. Actually, what would be really cool would be if I had one of those NASCAR in-car cameras and could just stream the video online for you. Not that I know how to stream video. But anyway…

Danville Road is five lanes at this point. For the purpose of this story, I have numbered the lanes 1 thru 5, from west to east. The two southbound lanes are lanes 1 and 2. Lane 3 is the turn lane. And the two northbound lanes are 4 and 5. I am in the far right lane, from my vantage point, lane 5. I had just passed two slower cars to my left, in lane 4. And I would guess that I was going 45-50 mph at this time. It’s hard to say, since I don’t often do a speedometer check. As evidenced by my four traffic tickets (although only two were for speeding) and a few warnings. But, I digress.

The next series of events takes place in the span of probably ten to fifteen seconds. Just as I get past these two cars, a large white truck no doubt carrying some idiot rednecks pulls out right in front of me from one of the side roads to my right. It is apparently turning left to go south. But I guess the driver sees me and then just stops, but is completely blocking my lane. I don’t have time to stop.

I think about my fish. Who will feed Pablo when I’m gone? Who will dance for him?

My instinct and only option is to swerve into the other lane to try and avoid the truck. Somehow I manage to do that. But I quickly realize that the sharpness of the turn coupled with my speed has my car on the verge of being out of control. I try to correct, but it’s too late. The back end of my car is coming around to the right. And I start to skid down lanes 3 and 4.

I think about Frolf. And how even if I live, I might be mangled and never be able to play.

It is at this point that I think of the one and only thing I remember from Drivers Ed: Steer into the direction of the skid. So I do. But I overcorrect. Now the rear of my car comes around to the left side, and I am sliding drivers-door-first down a fairly busy street at 7:00 on a Friday night.

I think about 24. And how I’ll never know if Jack gets Walt. And will Chloe ever trust men again? And what about the first lady. What’s going to happen to her?

Now, not only am I skidding drivers-side-first down lanes 4 and 5, but my car also seems to be slowly veering towards the curb. Which also means road signs, mailboxes, and utility poles.

I think about my blog. Who will let my blog friends know I’m gone? Then, I think that over time, everyone will leave many comments asking if I’m OK. And then when someone finally posts a comment letting everyone know what happened… it would be my most-commented post ever!

I have already begun steering the other way, into the direction of this skid. Suddenly, my car turns all the way around, doing a complete 180, and coming to rest. At last. Except that as it spun around, it crossed the entire highway and has come to rest in the middle of lanes 1 and 2. So at this point, my car is stopped, pointed towards the west side of the road. Right in front of oncoming traffic! I look up to see cars in both lanes bearing down on me!

I think about the things that have flashed thru my mind. My fish. Frolf. 24. My blog. If these are the first things I think of, what does that say about my life? Maybe I should just sit here. Close my eyes. And see what happens.

Anyway, back to the story. Again, all this happened in the span of maybe fifteen seconds. So I look up and see two sets of headlights coming towards me as I’m sitting still. Fortunately, my car is still running. So I do the only thing I can think of. I cut the wheels all the way to the left and I lloor it. Amazingly, no one hits me. And I don’t hit anything. I turn into the first place I see, which just happens to be a church parking lot. I stop the car. My hands are shaking. I just sit there for a moment to recover.

OK, I didn’t really think about all those things. Actually, I think pretty much my only thought was: Don’t die, don’t die, don’t die. Because living is good. And dying… not as good.

I never saw the white truck again. In retrospect, I was just thinking, there had to be several witnesses to the “wreck that wasn’t.” Wonder how one would go about getting in touch with such people. Because I would give anything to meet the driver of that truck.

You know, just to let him know that I’m OK ;-)

“My friends all grew up, and they settled down. In nice little houses on the outskirts of town. They work in their office. Tnd drive SUV’s. They pray for their babies, and they worry ’bout me…”

The Winter of Bone

(from Episode 156, “The Summer of George”)
George: “I’m really going to do something with these three months.”
Jerry: “Like what?”
George: “I’m gonna read a book From beginning to end. In that order.”
Jerry: “I’ve always wanted to do that.”
George: “And I’m gonna play frolf.”
Jerry: “You mean golf?”
George: “No, Frolf. Frisbee golf, Jerry. Golf, with a frisbee. This is gonna be my time. Time to taste the fruits and let the juices drip down my chin. proclaim this, the summer of George!”

I went running yesterday. There were several hotties walking/running in the park as well. Mentioned this to a friend of mine yesterday and she asked, “Did you pick up your pace and display perfect posture until you were safely out of their sight?” Well, of course! And I thought I was the only person who did that.

But enough about running and hotties and dodging old ladies walking. On to the important stuff. As I made my way around the second turn of the track, I noticed something new in the meadow. I suspected what it might be. But I wasn’t for sure. (If you’re thinking a special doggie surprise right about now, well good guess. But no, not this time.) As I continued running, I noticed others. And they were all numbered! I made a mental note of the objects. Then today, I googled what I thought them to be. And this is what I found:

Do you have any idea what this is? Any idea!? That’s right my friends. Just as I suspected. It’s Frolf! Frisbee golf! They’ve put up an 18 hole course! Here! In my town! You have no idea how happy this makes me. I’m bursting, Jerry! I’m bursting!

I wonder if there’s a league, or if anyone can play. I’ve got to call and find out. I want to get up a game. Not this weekend though, I need a day or two to decompress. Get one of those recliners with a mini-fridge built in the side. Maybe The White Shadow will be on tonight.

Welcome, my friends, to the winter of Bone…

“Daddy was a veteran, a southern Democrat. They oughta get a rich man to vote like that…”

The Winter of Bone

(from Episode 156, “The Summer of George”)
George: “I’m really going to do something with these three months.”
Jerry: “Like what?”
George: “I’m gonna read a book From beginning to end. In that order.”
Jerry: “I’ve always wanted to do that.”
George: “And I’m gonna play frolf.”
Jerry: “You mean golf?”
George: “No, Frolf. Frisbee golf, Jerry. Golf, with a frisbee. This is gonna be my time. Time to taste the fruits and let the juices drip down my chin. proclaim this, the summer of George!”

I went running yesterday. There were several hotties walking/running in the park as well. Mentioned this to a friend of mine yesterday and she asked, “Did you pick up your pace and display perfect posture until you were safely out of their sight?” Well, of course! And I thought I was the only person who did that.

But enough about running and hotties and dodging old ladies walking. On to the important stuff. As I made my way around the second turn of the track, I noticed something new in the meadow. I suspected what it might be. But I wasn’t for sure. (If you’re thinking a special doggie surprise right about now, well good guess. But no, not this time.) As I continued running, I noticed others. And they were all numbered! I made a mental note of the objects. Then today, I googled what I thought them to be. And this is what I found:

Do you have any idea what this is? Any idea!? That’s right my friends. Just as I suspected. It’s Frolf! Frisbee golf! They’ve put up an 18 hole course! Here! In my town! You have no idea how happy this makes me. I’m bursting, Jerry! I’m bursting!

I wonder if there’s a league, or if anyone can play. I’ve got to call and find out. I want to get up a game. Not this weekend though, I need a day or two to decompress. Get one of those recliners with a mini-fridge built in the side. Maybe The White Shadow will be on tonight.

Welcome, my friends, to the winter of Bone…

“Daddy was a veteran, a southern Democrat. They oughta get a rich man to vote like that…”

Emptiness you can never fill

I’ve never written much about my grandparents. Just wrote a small bit here. Wanted to write a bit more.

I was 19, in college, and still living at home. I had been out one night, I think it was a weeknight, so it wasn’t too late. When I came home, I noticed that my mother’s car wasn’t home, which was odd for 9 or 10 o’clock at night during the week. As I reached the foot of the stairs, Dad opened the front door and told me my grandmother, my mother’s mother, had passed away. I was stunned. Mom, the eighth of twelve children, had left to go be with her brothers and sisters.

She was my last living grandparent. And now she was gone. I think I walked around in a daze the rest of the night, and probably the next day. I didn’t want to go to school anymore. I didn’t care about much of anything for a few weeks. She was 77. But it was still unexpected. She hadn’t been sick. And I never got a chance to say goodbye. That’s the worst.

Mamaw never learned to drive. She outlived my grandfather by almost sixteen years, but never remarried. Never even thought about even seeing anyone else. For the last several years of her life, she lived alone in a tiny two bedroom house in the country, where her mother had lived. And yet despite having no car, somehow managed to get by. The story goes that a tornado had picked the little house up and set it back down several feet from it’s foundation, otherwise unharmed for the most part.

There was a small pond on someone else’s property, just down the drive and across an electric fence, which shocked me at least twice. I learned to fish there, using raw bacon or bologna for bait. The pond iced over once and my cousin and I wanted to “skate” out on it, but were scared we’d fall thru. My uncle told us it was solid and that he could drive a truck out on the ice. We never chanced it though. He came in later wet from the waist down, and I was glad we hadn’t.

I liked spending the night there. But I did it far too seldom. During the summertime, Mom would take my sister and I and we’d go pick up Mamaw and take her out to breakfast. Those were some of my favorite times. It seems to me that grandparents and grandchildren often just naturally form an alliance. If I was in trouble with Mom or Dad, I could always count on Mamaw to say something like “Leave the boy alone.” It’s sad to lose that.

When I was a junior in high school, I was dating a girl a year older than me from a nearby school. She invited me to her senior prom. This was the same girl that I used to only ask out every other weekend, because I’d skip lunch and save up my lunch money for two weeks to pay for our dates. I blogged about it once. Can’t find it now. My parents seemed to be struggling at this time. And me? I was cleaning up. $3.80 an hour. (“Isn’t that the new minimum wage?” “And now you know who to thank.”) Mom took me to Mamaw’s and made me ask her if I could borrow money to rent a tux. I am sure I thanked her. Can’t remember ever paying her back.

Suddenly this feels too personal. At the funeral, I was a pallbearer. Even at 19, I felt like a kid still. I wanted to cry so bad, but the tears would never come. Not sure why. I think I was still stunned about the whole thing. As the saying goes, it hadn’t hit me yet. Nowadays I visit her grave. Alone. At least once a year. Sometimes more. I’ve learned that the tears will come when they come. Often when I visit, I’ll start talking to her. As if she were standing there. Just about life in general. How much I miss her. The wind picks up. The leaves rustle… Maybe I’m just talking to the wind. Whatever. It helps.

For several years, I would have dreams about her. As I mentioned in the other post, to this day, I still remember her phone number. When I think that all my grandparents are gone, it deeply saddens me. I know many people have suffered more losses than I. I still have my parents. My sister. All my close friends. I hope if you still have grandparents living that you will treasure them. What I’d give for one more day… I could write more. But this is enough. For now.

I can still remember so many of the things I felt standing there that night, at the foot of the stairs. I felt robbed. Of so much. I was shocked. I felt it was so unfair that I never got to say goodbye. Most of all, I felt empty.

Almost fourteen years later… nothing ever fills up that space.

“If heaven was a town it would be my town, on a summer day in 1985. When everything I wanted was out there waiting. And everyone I loved was still alive…”

Emptiness you can never fill

I’ve never written much about my grandparents. Just wrote a small bit here. Wanted to write a bit more.

I was 19, in college, and still living at home. I had been out one night, I think it was a weeknight, so it wasn’t too late. When I came home, I noticed that my mother’s car wasn’t home, which was odd for 9 or 10 o’clock at night during the week. As I reached the foot of the stairs, Dad opened the front door and told me my grandmother, my mother’s mother, had passed away. I was stunned. Mom, the eighth of twelve children, had left to go be with her brothers and sisters.

She was my last living grandparent. And now she was gone. I think I walked around in a daze the rest of the night, and probably the next day. I didn’t want to go to school anymore. I didn’t care about much of anything for a few weeks. She was 77. But it was still unexpected. She hadn’t been sick. And I never got a chance to say goodbye. That’s the worst.

Mamaw never learned to drive. She outlived my grandfather by almost sixteen years, but never remarried. Never even thought about even seeing anyone else. For the last several years of her life, she lived alone in a tiny two bedroom house in the country, where her mother had lived. And yet despite having no car, somehow managed to get by. The story goes that a tornado had picked the little house up and set it back down several feet from it’s foundation, otherwise unharmed for the most part.

There was a small pond on someone else’s property, just down the drive and across an electric fence, which shocked me at least twice. I learned to fish there, using raw bacon or bologna for bait. The pond iced over once and my cousin and I wanted to “skate” out on it, but were scared we’d fall thru. My uncle told us it was solid and that he could drive a truck out on the ice. We never chanced it though. He came in later wet from the waist down, and I was glad we hadn’t.

I liked spending the night there. But I did it far too seldom. During the summertime, Mom would take my sister and I and we’d go pick up Mamaw and take her out to breakfast. Those were some of my favorite times. It seems to me that grandparents and grandchildren often just naturally form an alliance. If I was in trouble with Mom or Dad, I could always count on Mamaw to say something like “Leave the boy alone.” It’s sad to lose that.

When I was a junior in high school, I was dating a girl a year older than me from a nearby school. She invited me to her senior prom. This was the same girl that I used to only ask out every other weekend, because I’d skip lunch and save up my lunch money for two weeks to pay for our dates. I blogged about it once. Can’t find it now. My parents seemed to be struggling at this time. And me? I was cleaning up. $3.80 an hour. (“Isn’t that the new minimum wage?” “And now you know who to thank.”) Mom took me to Mamaw’s and made me ask her if I could borrow money to rent a tux. I am sure I thanked her. Can’t remember ever paying her back.

Suddenly this feels too personal. At the funeral, I was a pallbearer. Even at 19, I felt like a kid still. I wanted to cry so bad, but the tears would never come. Not sure why. I think I was still stunned about the whole thing. As the saying goes, it hadn’t hit me yet. Nowadays I visit her grave. Alone. At least once a year. Sometimes more. I’ve learned that the tears will come when they come. Often when I visit, I’ll start talking to her. As if she were standing there. Just about life in general. How much I miss her. The wind picks up. The leaves rustle… Maybe I’m just talking to the wind. Whatever. It helps.

For several years, I would have dreams about her. As I mentioned in the other post, to this day, I still remember her phone number. When I think that all my grandparents are gone, it deeply saddens me. I know many people have suffered more losses than I. I still have my parents. My sister. All my close friends. I hope if you still have grandparents living that you will treasure them. What I’d give for one more day… I could write more. But this is enough. For now.

I can still remember so many of the things I felt standing there that night, at the foot of the stairs. I felt robbed. Of so much. I was shocked. I felt it was so unfair that I never got to say goodbye. Most of all, I felt empty.

Almost fourteen years later… nothing ever fills up that space.

“If heaven was a town it would be my town, on a summer day in 1985. When everything I wanted was out there waiting. And everyone I loved was still alive…”

Bone Trivia

Got this fun little thing from InterstellarNewlywed.

Ten Top Trivia Tips about Bone!

1. Koalas sleep for 22 hours a day, two hours more than Bone. Um, I wish.
2. Bone can drink over 25 gallons of water at a time. I was with you up until “water.” Sun Drop, maybe.
3. Julius Caesar wore a laurel wreath to cover up Bone. Laurel? That’s a good wreath. Evergreen. Real men wear laurel.
4. A chimpanzee can learn to recognize itself in a mirror, but Bone can not. Big deal! Must be Koko the monkey.
5. Boneocracy is government by Bone. Well duh!
6. During severe windstorms, Bone may sway several feet to either side! I am flexible.
7. By tradition, a girl standing under Bone cannot refuse to be kissed by anyone who claims the privilege. A girl standing under Bone? Eh, why ask why?
8. You should always open Bone at least an hour before drinking him.
9. Humans have 46 chromosomes, peas have 14, and Bone has 7! Yes, but I make up for it in other areas.
10. Bone has often been found swimming miles from shore in the Indian Ocean. This is completely true, although I have absolutely no recollection of it.

I am interested in – do tell me aboutherhimitthem

“So what are you doing back? Well, I sat back and thought about the things we used to do. It really meant a lot to me. You mean a lot to me. I really mean that much to you? Girl, you know it’s true.”

Bone Trivia

Got this fun little thing from InterstellarNewlywed.

Ten Top Trivia Tips about Bone!

1. Koalas sleep for 22 hours a day, two hours more than Bone. Um, I wish.
2. Bone can drink over 25 gallons of water at a time. I was with you up until “water.” Sun Drop, maybe.
3. Julius Caesar wore a laurel wreath to cover up Bone. Laurel? That’s a good wreath. Evergreen. Real men wear laurel.
4. A chimpanzee can learn to recognize itself in a mirror, but Bone can not. Big deal! Must be Koko the monkey.
5. Boneocracy is government by Bone. Well duh!
6. During severe windstorms, Bone may sway several feet to either side! I am flexible.
7. By tradition, a girl standing under Bone cannot refuse to be kissed by anyone who claims the privilege. A girl standing under Bone? Eh, why ask why?
8. You should always open Bone at least an hour before drinking him.
9. Humans have 46 chromosomes, peas have 14, and Bone has 7! Yes, but I make up for it in other areas.
10. Bone has often been found swimming miles from shore in the Indian Ocean. This is completely true, although I have absolutely no recollection of it.

I am interested in – do tell me aboutherhimitthem

“So what are you doing back? Well, I sat back and thought about the things we used to do. It really meant a lot to me. You mean a lot to me. I really mean that much to you? Girl, you know it’s true.”

Five Guilty Pleasures

Saw this on Veronika’s blog. It’s the Five Guilty Pleasures Meme. The rules: Simple list or write an entry about five of your guilty pleasures. Then choose five other bloggers to tag.

I thought this sounded like a good idea. I started out thinking about this: What exactly is a guilty pleasure? I looked around on the net, but wasn’t really able to find a clear, exact definition. I consider a guilty pleasure to be something you enjoy, but feel like you shouldn’t, or are a bit ashamed or embarrassed that you enjoy it. So, based on that from Bonester’s Unofficial Unwritten Dictionary, here goes:

1. Cheesy music – No matter if it’s “Ice Ice Baby” or “Tubthumpin” or “Bust a Move.” If some cheesy, over-played song comes on the radio, I turn it up and (almost) unashamedly sing along. I sing it loud. I sing it proud. And then there are my CD’s. Michael Jackson. Beastie Boys. Duran Duran. And then there’s my Milli Vanilli cassette. And some days it’s all I can do not to reach for this.

2. South Park – I know it’s wrong. And I don’t watch it as much as I used to. But these little foul-mouthed cartoon kids are frickin’ funny. I don’t see how they get away with some of the things they do and say on this show. This is one of the two or three shows on TV that will cause me to literally laugh out loud.
<@:-) (clown hat-curly hair-smiley face)

3. Naps – There is almost nothing I like better than being able to come home from work, take off my clothes… where was I going with this? Oh yes! And crawl into bed and sleep for an hour or two. Pure subconscious euphoria.

4. American Idol – This is so embarrassing, as I despise most every reality show. It’s crap. I have never watched a single episode of Survivor. I don’t even like to watch that much TV, period. But I got hooked on AI last year. The judges really do make this show. I’m hoping I won’t get sucked into it this year. But I’m weak. I already watched most of last Tuesdays show.

5. And last, but certainly not least…

Yep, that’s your big boy there. Whoppers Malted Milk Balls. Don’t give me that little 1.75 oz. baby bag. I want the big milk carton full. Fourteen ounces, babee! Such sweet, chocolatey, mouthwatering goodness. Whew. Suddenly I’m feeling a little flush.

Just missing out on the top five: Romantic comedies, Saved By The Bell reruns, and seeing perennial losers (in sports) continue to lose.

Feel free to do this meme on your blog, or leave your five in the comments. I usually don’t tag anyone, but I will this time. I’m tagging:
Carnealian
Lindsy
Uisce
MappyB
And Sherry, since she always tags me ;-)

“I get knocked down, but I get up again. And you’re never gonna keep me down…”