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Guilty Pleasures

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Besides lounging about in T-shirts that I stole from past boyfriends, I am ashamed to admit that I also enjoy …


1 Trashy romance novels. Wait, wait. Before you judge me I would just like to say that unlike the women that have read Fifty Shades of Grey, I don’t read them for the sex.  After all, sometimes the author weaving the tale of Dukes, Viscounts and helpless heiresses make sexy moments just plain awkward. True, I skip most pages…unless you’re put together so well that it doesn’t feel like I’m some perverted peeping tom.


2. Reality Shows. Saw that coming, right? Cha, stop pretending like you don’t have the same issue. I feel like I take it to a whole new level though. America’s Next Top Model. The Bachelor,  Shark Tank, The Bachelorette, Survivor, Master Chef, American Idol and on occasion I get on the lowest level and watch The Real World. I know, pretty damn bad.


3. Disney Music. I can’t help it. Who doesn’t love blasting Ariel’s “Part of Your World” while running around the house in a towel, getting ready for work. Whatever life issue you’re having you can always find a song for! It just makes sense. Of course when no one else is home. Or that could just get embarrassing.


4.What my mother insists is a raunchy magazine. If you said Cosmo, you are correct! I feel like it was better when I was younger. At least the confessions. They don’t seem like confessions, not interesting ones at least. I used to be shocked when I read some of those stories. It could be how open our society has become though. Maybe we tend to share too much and now it’s no longer as shocking when put in print. Regardless, I love reading “50 things you should be trying in bed”. Mostly because I’m curious about the 40 things I didn’t know were possible.




*I should have known better than to Google “hot showers”. I’ll be forever scarred.

5. Long hot showers. This is only a guilty pleasure because I understand that water costs money and I alone make the water bill huge. Secondly, I can’t just take a five-minute shower. The bare minimum I’ve established is twenty minutes. It’s a problem when others need to get ready or relieve themselves but I can’t get myself to care enough to go faster. Sorry I’m not sorry?





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Vagabond hearts are thick as thieves and wander freely

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