Underneath my yellow skin

No Guilt; Only Pleasure



The concept of ‘guilty pleasure’ has always been an anathema to me. I mean, I get it intellectually. “This is so bad, but I like it!” Shame shame shame (real or imagined). But, I don’t have that, and I think there are a few reasons for it. One, I’ve always liked things/thought things that are outside the norm. I got used to having to defend things such as why I don’t want to have children (which, by the way, still don’t want *waves at people who insisted I would change my mind*) or get married, why I don’t wear makeup or like traditionally feminine things, and just about every other aspect of my life including my sexuality. After explaining why I didn’t want to have kids (before I learned that ‘no’ was an answer in and of itself or that I didn’t actually have to answer) for the umpteenth time, the fact that I like, say, The Pina Colada Song*, ain’t no skin off my nose.

Tangent: I post this video on my FB wall every now and then. Apparently, I did it two days in a row, and someone playfully thanked me for giving them the earworm. They said they would have to retaliate if I posted it for a third day in a row. Guess what I did? Damn right I posted it for the third day in a row! They responded with this:

Which, you probably won’t be surprised to learn, is another unironic fave of mine. I embraced it fully.

I’m the girl who read the dictionary in her spare time. I read Harlequin Romances as a teen. The first pop song I heard was Eddy Grant’s Electric Avenue. I watched Love Boat and Cheers** incessantly. Do you really think I’m going to be ashamed of whatever music I listen to? I am proud of my inordinate fondness for eighties hair mental bands and their power ballads such as this one:

RIP, Jani Lane.

::pours one out and waves lighter in the air::

OT: YouTube now has this annoying thing where it stops the video when I copy the embed code. It’s really fucking annoying.

Anyway, now that I’m wearing my ripped jeans and my friendship pins, let me offer you this gem:

This one hits me right in the feels. ALL THE FEELS!

I learned to play this one on the guitar:

It didn’t hurt that all of these bands had purty boys with long hair and makeup in them. Why, yes, I have a thing for angsty white boys, why do you ask?

Many years ago, I was having dinner with my BFF and my then-boyfriend. When then-boyfriend was in the restroom, my BFF told me she and then-boyfriend had been talking about my taste in music. He said I had terrible taste in music with surprising pockets of goodness. Yes, it was a shitty thing for him to say (not the reason he’s an ex, but that mentality contributed to it), but it didn’t faze me one bit. I know my taste in music is terrible (with Hot Pockets of awesomeness), and I don’t care. This is me not caring:


It’s funny how some people will get flustered by me not caring that my taste in music is shitty. Aw, you don’t get to feel superior that you have such great taste in music and mine sucks! Wah, wah, wah. I used to watch in amusement as people didn’t know what to do after I said, “Yeah, I know my taste in music sucks. And?” It’s actually a good deflection in general–agreeing with the other person when they’re expecting a fight.

Anyhoooooooo, I think another reason I don’t care about my questionable taste in music is because I was bullied as a kid and a loner. Now, I can see how this might have turned me into either someone who pretended to like whatever is popular to fit in (because I’m a people-pleaser in so many ways) or someone who tries to exclude others from liking what I like because they’re not REAL _____ fans, but the way it played out for me was that I sort of accepted what I like was weird and outre, and I just never gave a shit.

Huh. That’s something I’ve never thought of. I am a rabid people-pleaser in many ways, so why not this? I really have no idea. I’m the same way with all pop culture. I don’t care if what I like is trash or not. If I like it, it’s good enough for me. Actually, I think with movies, it’s because the reverse happened so often–I didn’t like what was considered terrific–come to think of it, the same with literature. I think a lot of classics are overrated, and I loved mysteries when they were considered niche and genre….I remember sitting in a writing class (I have an MA in Writing & Consciousness) where we were discussing what books we’d put in our canon 100 (or something like that). I chose Agatha Christie’s The Big Four and argued why. Now, I’d probably say Curtain by her, but I love the hell out of both novels.

Anyhoo, back when I was playing pretend Christian, this song spoke to me. I even learned to play it on the piano:


I even played it at a family reunion. Good times, yo.

::wipes away tears::

You know what? I still love Stryper, even though I’m no longer even pretending to be a Christian.


(Yes I REALLY have a thing for angsty white dudes.)

Hahahhahaha I found a video of them playing this song five years ago, and it’s in a key like five steps down from the original. Can’t hit those high notes any longer! And I’m still along like a fucking boss! Though still in an octave lower. I’m a double-alto (or whatever it’s called). It’s also funny to see them in jeans and t-shirts, short hair (some of them), and without their makeup. Still with the love for Jesus, though. *sigh*

Anyhoooooooooooo…Another song I loved unironically at the time! What cute little boys! I just want to pinch their cheeks and tell them to go out and play. Although them singing about the hardness of life and relationships in such an upbeat song was hilarious.

They did ¬†an updated version, and may I say, they’ve grown up nicely? Although, again, sung in a lower key….

A frieend commented that it was nice of them to sit in order of good looks from (viewer’s) right to left, and I snorted. Although, to me, the one in the middle is more my jam. The one on the right is a bit too frat-boy for my taste. It’s all moot as they’re all married and have sixteen (!) kids between the three of them.

Here’s one of the angstiest of all angsty white boy songs, which had me writing Smiths lyrics into my journal and crying all night long (start around 1:10 for the actual song):

::bawls uncontrollably::

Boy, this really is a list of angsty white boys! The point is, I don’t give a shit if someone thinks my taste in music is terrible. Same with movies, books, and other popular media. If something gives me joy or pleasure, you can fuck right off with your superior smugness. I’ll be sitting here waving my lighter and singing my heart out, loving every minute of it.





*Which I do. Enthusiastically. Loudly. Joyfully. It’s my Dark Souls fight song, and I will always sing along when I hear it. I beat Biggie & Small (Ornstein & Smough) with this looping in the background!

**Cheers was a family thing with my brother and mother. Never really liked it, but wasn’t ashamed of watching it, either.

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