My Guilty Pleasure: Voice Notes Give Me Butterflies
So much is said in the hesitations, the silences, the meanderings, the confessions in low, hushed tones
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My Guilty Pleasure: I Enjoy Southern Gospel Because It Hardly Makes Me Feel at All
As a consequence of growing up Black in a white world, I am comfortable feeling alienated from my own emotions
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My Guilty Pleasure: I’m a Gen Xer Reading Comic Books Once Again
Superheroes have acquired respectability, but I miss their childish, outlaw history
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My Guilty Pleasure Is My Old Friend, Diet Pepsi
The first can I drank was exhilarating—it tasted like seventeen!
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My Guilty Pleasure: Dynasty Clawed Its Way into My Heart
Kidnapping, bigamy, financial ruin, babies falling from roofs—and really great clothes
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My Guilty Pleasure: I’m Addicted to Bad News
The world may be awful, but if I know about it, then at least I know
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My Guilty Pleasure: Eating Garbage Food in the Middle of the Night
The late nights are mine alone, and I’ll spend them however I damn well please
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My Guilty Pleasure: I Own about 1,100 Records and Still Want More
I would dig into the clearance section at the back of every store until my hands hurt from the rough plastic of the packaging
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My Guilty Pleasure: The All-Consuming, Shimmering World of Skinfluencers
I felt giddy whenever I burned my face with a cultish acid
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My Guilty Pleasure: A Morbid Curiosity for Say Yes to the Dress
At the end of each episode, I feel like I’ve dodged a bullet
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