Coming Clean
This hasn’t required therapy or anything, but it’s about time to confess that I like Taylor Swift’s music. I drink it with a straw, and then swish it back and forth between my teeth and let all that sugary-sweet goodness stick to my gums.
My home life often involves me getting heckled for this — by a Grey’s Anatomy watcher, nonetheless! I find this to be a precarious aesthetic position, but I haven’t found a leverage point for a retaliatory salvo as of yet.
Anyway, I’m “rocking” Jimmie Spheeris right now (probably “trancing” would be a better term), so I am redeemed on the quality scale.