I have written hundreds of blogs in the last month. I wrote them in my head, high fived myself about how awesome they will be when I type them up in a spare moment and then utterly failed to get that spare moment. The blog is about all things Rori, nothing to do with babies, all about politics and completely silly.
So I find a spare moment, and you’ll find out at the exact same moment I do what it’s about. Right now, I’m full watching my guilty pleasure American Idol and thinking about guilty pleasures – wondering whether its our guilty pleasures that say more about us than the cool things we talk about liking at parties. If that’s true, here’s a glimpse right into my soul.
Guilty Pleasure Number One: trashy television. I’m fighting the urge to also tell you about the highbrow TV I watch to mitigate the damage here, but I’ll resist. It really wouldn’t balance it anyway. I’m a televisual trash bag. I love The Valleys, MKR, Geordie Shore, dance shows (although they’re never ever dancing when I channel flick over them), Vampire Diaries, Intervention, Hoarders. I’m sure there’s more, but you get the idea.
Guilty Pleasure Number Two: Taking on more than I can handle. It sounds noble, but it isn’t if you see it up close and personal. I obsess, I usually get sick, I convince myself I can’t do it, but that feeling when I do against all the (completely self imposed) odds is bloody awesome. Then I do it all over again. I’m envious of calm folk, but I don’t really understand them.
GP Number Three: Facebook frenemies. Those people you really should quit, but would prefer to know what bile they’re spitting or, ridiculousness they get up to than cut them lose. Bad for your mental health, but fascinating like blood splatter.
GP Number Four: Nineties dance music.
Right. I’m off for a drive to listen to GP Number 5. Podcasts. Lots of podcasts while thinking of blogs I may or may not ever write…