Next day!

Whatever day this is, the theme is "a song that's a guilty pleasure."

Here's the deal: I hate the phrase "guilty pleasure." I recognize that I really enjoy a lot of crappy music, but I refuse to feel guilty about what I enjoy. (Actually, I kind of hate the word "guilty." As a feeling, I mean. It seems to always mean "I enjoy this but society-or whoever- says I shouldn't, so I'm going to feel bad about myself for it." I don't like that.)

Let's revise the title to something that irritates me a little less-- "a song that is pure brain candy."

Back up a little-- it is a little shocking to most people that I have only recently started watching the TV show "Glee." For pretty much as long as possible, I was that kid in school who was in every choir possible. Not half as annoying as, say, Rachel Berry (I hope), but you'd better believe that if my high school had had a show choir, I'd have been all up in there. I'm that adult that has a showtunes station on Pandora, and likes to occasionally play it loudly when cleaning the house. (When nobody else is home.)

However, the first few episodes I saw of "Glee," I didn't enjoy it that much for a simple reason-- I didn't know the songs. I've never really listened to pop music, and when I heard it on the radio (like at work) I didn't typically enjoy it that much.

Then this episode aired, and in the roughly 2 and a half minutes it took the Warblers to sing this song, I became a fan of both "Glee" and Katy Perry.



Since that point, I've seen a lot more of "Glee." More often than not, the songs they sing are things I didn't particularly enjoy on the radio, but now love because of the "Glee" version. It's possible that I cried like a girl when the kids sang Bruno Mars' "Just the Way You Are" to Kurt at his dad's wedding (and during the Christmas special when they sang that song from "How the Grinch Stole Christmas"). It's possible that I have danced around the house like a nut during more than one performance. It's possible that I want to go buy all their albums.

So I guess it's less that this is a guilty pleasure, and more that somewhere in the past, 17-year-old me is judging. Hard. Oh well.