Despite that, I do have a few guilty pleasures which I allow myself. These are:
- Lyle Lovett. As a high school kid, I had a "country music phase." It was the result of my mother's boyfriend who I mistakenly adored. He was a good ol' boy from Colorado. He had more pairs of cowboy boots than I have pairs of clogs. Mom ended up marrying him, and he quickly turned into a sadistic psychopath which marked the end of that phase. A few artists stayed in my musical library, Mr. Lovett being one of them. As a funny lookin' Texan man with a curly mop of hair on his head who can sing openly and vulnerably about loves lost, he's one of my greatest crushes. If Mr. Lovett came to my door tonight and proposed marriage, I'd marry him without hesitation.
- Pop tarts. Two perfect golden-ratioed little pastries filled with chemistry's *idea* of fruit and topped with chemistry's *idea* of frosting. I eat approximately 8 per year.
- Wendy's Jr. Cheeseburger Deluxes. I loathe fast food, and I won't eat it socially. But there are those late nights when I have nothing in the fridge and there are a pile of ns simulations knocking at my psyche. I won't bother to cook. I'll just pull up to Dave's Late-Night Window and order one of those tasty burgers (no mayo) and a diet Coke.
- "Quality" movies. The Princess Diaries, The Santa Clause, their sequels, The Prince & Me, The Last Unicorn, Save the Last Dance, First Daughter, The Pacifier, Ice Princess, Swiss Family Robinson, and anything with Hayley Mills. Escaping into a world of saccharine is theraputic for me.
- Janet Jackson's Control Album. This is the home of the songs "Nasty Boys" and "The Pleasure Principle." When I was 10 years old, I choreographed a dance to "What Have You Done for Me Lately?" and peformed it for my mother in my black Reebok high-tops and splatter paint leggings when she got home from her school day at community college.