Guilty Pleasures

I've got a confession to make.  It's been a bit quiet of late in this little corner of the internet, partly because Real Life has kept me on my toes, and partly because what downtime I have had has been indulgently filled with what can only really be called Guilty Pleasures.  And the Guilty Pleasures on my list have been growing, to the point where it's getting hard to keep up with them.

We all have them, let's be honest about it. Those nights where the kids are in bed, or out depending on their age, himself is elsewhere, and the evening is stretching out ahead of you, with nothing more taxing planned than topping up your glass of Pinot Grigio.  Pinot Grigio, by the way, is not a guilty pleasure. It's a necessity.  If I wanted to feel guilty about the odd glass of wine, I'd've stayed on at Catholic school.

Let me in!!

Well, those guilty pleasures.  First up The Valleys.  Ok, they've got the morals of an alley cat and all the brains of a teapot, but it's addictive viewing. Judge me all you want, I don't believe it's real, but it's pure entertainment.  I've never watched TOWIE, or any of the other "reality" shows, but when these are virtually my neighbours, I can't help myself.  Much as all Welsh people aren't like that, there are those who are, there is some degree of truth to it, and what else is going to happen when you take a bunch of deluded halfwits, ply them with as much booze as they want and drop them in a big posh house in the middle of Cardiff Bay?  (I've actually been to the house, but I couldn't get in.  Probably for the best)

I might have watched every episode in existence at least twice, but I still can't resist a bit of Dog The Bounty Hunter.  If you haven't watched this at least once, you haven't lived. Seriously, what is wrong with you?  Mullets, outsized boobs, crazy footwear, and stunning Hawaiian scenery.  And criminals.  Oh yes, this has to figure. I can't not, can I?  I keep trying to pretend it's educational, that I'm learning about drugs, the American criminal justice system and social commentary.  But really, it's all about the mullet.

OM NOM NOM

But it's not all about the telly.  My guilty pleasures run far further than the Sky remote.  I'm torn whether or not to admit to this, but what the heck, we've all done it at least once...  Frosting straight from the tub. Admit it.  NOW.  Honestly, there is no better comfort food in the world, no matter what Squeaky might claim about mint choc chip ice cream (I can't stand mint choc chip!)

I know I'm not alone in my next guilty pleasure, even if you might have been scratching your head this far.  Meat Loaf.  Not the food.  The large, sweaty, hairy American singer.  (Is there a bit of a theme here?)  If you don't at very least crack a smile at the start of Bat Out Of Hell, you're not alive.  Nothing beats a few cheeky drinks and screaming along to Paradise By The Dashboard Light.  Even better if there's actually a karaoke microphone nearby, but that's just details.

So come on then, people of the internet, admit it.  What do you do when everyone else is out?  NOT THAT!! I don't want to know about that!  The other things, the ones you can talk about in front of the in-laws.  I've shown you mine, now it's time for you to show me yours.