Guilty pleasures. What are guilty pleasures? In my book, they are things you like to do that you’re slightly embarrassed about. I’m an open book (if you’ve read my blog posts you’ll probably have gathered that) and I’m quite open and unembarrassed about stuff that other people might call a guilty pleasure.
I used to love Take That despite being a confirmed indie kid. I’m quite happy to admit a sneaky fascination with You’ve Been Framed and you know what, who doesn’t love a Caramac? See, nothing to see here, keep walking.
After much head scratching I’ve decided that my ultimate guilty pleasure is Quentin Tarantino. Now I know that’s nothing to be ashamed of, but I love his films. From True Romance (which he wrote but didn’t direct) which is just an awesome piece of film, to Reservoir Dogs. I adore Inglourious Basterds, every frame is superb, funny, graphic, brave, a little bit silly and just wonderful.
If I need to find my happy place, then really nothing hits the spot better than the Kill Bill films. Oh my goodness, if I ever need to feel empowered and like I need to dig myself out of an awful hole, then I just crank up the cruel tutelage of Pei Mei on YouTube and I’m in my safe and happy space.
That scene where she punches herself out of the coffin is just outstanding and life affirming and so powerful for me. That brave, courageous woman against the world fighting for her daughter. Beautiful. Only thing is I’ve never liked Pulp Fiction. Bit odd that, isn’t it. Sorry.
I don’t really feel especially guilty about any of my pleasures. Maybe they’re just too innocuous for anyone to feel too bad about.