Cru Jones Society

Last month CJS dedicated its Monday Confessional to “guilty pleasures.” In general, we find the concept of a guilty pleasure to be patently ridiculous, and said as much in the preamble to each question. No one should have to feel guilty about something they genuinely derive enjoyment from when it comes to music, movies, booze, or innocent homosexual crushes.

In 2004, Chuck Klosterman wrote a terrific essay deconstructing Entertainment Weekly’s Encyclopedia of Guilty Pleasures. In it, he asserts:

“What the authors of The Encyclopedia of Guilty Pleasures (and everyone else who uses this term) fail to realize is that the only people who believe in some kind of universal taste-a consensual demarcation between what’s artistically good and what’s artistically bad-are insecure, uncreative elitists who need to use somebody else’s art to validate their own limited worldview. It never matters what you like; what matters is why you like it.”

We absolutely agree, but this isn’t to say that guilty pleasures are non-existent.

Klosterman even clears up the difference between a real guilty pleasure and intellectual snobbery in his first paragraph: “In and of itself, the phrase “guilty pleasure” seems like a reasonable way to describe certain activities. For example, it is pleasurable to snort cocaine in public restrooms, and it always makes you feel guilty; as such, lavatory cocaine fits perfectly into this category. Drinking more than five glasses of gin before (or during) work generally qualifies as a guilty pleasure. So does having sex with people you barely know, having sex with people you actively hate, and/or having sex with people you barely know but whom your girlfriend used to live with during college (and will now consequently hate). These are all guilty pleasures in a technical sense.”

And these are the types of activities we’re interested in today. We at CJS couldn’t give a crap if you love listening to Clay Aiken in the shower, watching Twilight over and over again, or drinking Midori Sours. You’re not hurting anyone, enjoy yourself.

But what are the activities you enjoy that should give you at least a twinge of shame? What do you do that’s completely satisfying in a disgusting way? What’s borderline illegal? Actively detrimental to your health and/or safety? Childishly funny? Spitting in the face of acceptable social norms? This is a conversation we’re interested in, so to get things rolling, here are four things I love that make me think a little less of myself. But first, some honorable mentions:

• Crank calling anyone when you’re over the age of 15
• Mouthing off to homeless people
• Crop-dusting anyone
• Eating a big ol’ meat sandwich in the company of vegetarians
• Telling racist jokes only in the company of your same race friends
• Giggling when someone falls off a bike
• Showing up drunk to work/class/church
• Eating a huge plate of greasy food in front of someone on a diet
• Enjoying the guy next to you’s lap dance for free
• Buying beer for underage kids
• Shouting obscene things in the company of a deaf person knowing they can’t hear you
• Asking a hooker “How much?” even though you have no intent of purchasing

All good times that come with at least a small side of guilt. However, none of those hold a candle to my four favorite listed below. As such, we’ll get into those in much greater detail. Here we go:

1) Ogling a chick’s thong peeking out of the top of her pants that she’s not aware of

 

You know how this works. You’re sitting idly in a duller-than-dull staff meeting vacantly thinking about which SmartOnes frozen meal you’re going to microwave yourself for dinner – Ravioli Florentine or Chicken Enchiladas Suiza – when it happens. Laura from accounting with the nice curves and blond hair that she seductively flips all the time drops her pen, bends over hiking her button down top up her back slightly, stretches for the pen, and BAM! There’s the whale tail, baby!

It’s well-documented that men think about sex, I dunno, like every four seconds or so. I’d argue that since the thong prairie dogging out of the jeans phenomenon started regularly occurring about 7 years ago, this frequency has cut that time in half. Because seeing some cute girl’s thong when you’re not supposed to is like getting every Christmas present you’ve ever wanted all at once. You’re not sure what you did to deserve it, but you don’t especially care. You’re just happy to be there.

 I realize there will be those of you who quibble with me about this being a guilty pleasure. I can hear you saying, “Yeah, she’s doing that intentionally. Why feel bad? Go ahead and get yourself an eyeful.” To which I counter: Women do this all the time in clubs. The whale tail is the new cleavage.

But… I doubt many women outside of the biggest dick-chasing skanks are doing this intentionally during work, on the bus, or at that lame seminar your company makes you attend. The low-rise hip hugger pants have caused women everyone to unwittingly show horny men everywhere their delectable undergarments. I sincerely doubt that a woman anywhere wants a gaggle of dorky assholes thinking impure thoughts ogling their butt cleavage when they’re supposed to be learning about search engine optimization or some such shit.

But we do and it’s awesome. On behalf of men everywhere, if there were something seductive we could wear to compensate for this behavior, we would. But no one wants to see some dude’s butt cleavage or gawk at his crotch when he’s tenting his pants. Unfortunately for us, those two things are most associated with fat plumbers and elementary-aged boys who have to pee real bad respectively. So for now, we’ll just say thanks for the low-rise pants and the sexy underwear. Believe me, you’ve made our day.

2) Smoking a cigarette while high on cold medicine

Alright, so you’re sick. Your throat hurts, you’re coughing like a 75 year-old man, and you’re so congested, when you pronounce the letter “n” it sounds like “nd.” But you’re also addicted to nicotine. What do you do?

You load yourself up on Advil Cold & Sinus (the good shit – the stuff they make meth out of – the stuff you have to sign a release to buy at the Walgreens), down a shot of eucalyptus tasting Dayquil, start feeling loopy from all the glorious antihistamine goodness, and blaze yourself up a square. The buzz you’re rocking from all the cold medicine goes from good to fucking far out man after about three drags. Since you’ve likely abstained from your slow painful suicide habit for a couple days due to your rawer-than-Sam-Kinison-after-a-two-show-night throat, the buzz is just that much better.

You know logically that all you’re doing is delaying your ultimate recovery and that once all this cold medicine wears off you’re going to feel a hell of a lot worse than if you’d been a good boy and just drank some tea instead, but dammitall. This is one of the best cigarettes you’ve ever had, and will be as good as you’ll feel all day.

The joy in this idiotic behavior stems not just from the physical, but from the social as well. If anyone who knows you’re sick sees you lighting up, you’re getting a cross look at best, and an annoying long-winded lecture about how “that’s just going to make you feel worse, you know” at worst. As if you didn’t know that going in. As if this is news. As if them enlightening before you lit up would have prevented the behavior.

But you know, and you’re prepared for the consequences. Because fuck it. For these five minutes you’re basking in self-destructive, legal narcotics enhanced glee.

3) Getting a huge glob of orange disgustingness out of your ear with a q-tip

This is one of life’s purest and most repellant pleasures. Because while you feel freaking awesome that your once hideously coated ear canal is now clear of all that ugly grossness, you’re plagued with questions of, “Wait, how long has it been since I’ve done this? What am I? A caveman?”

No one ever intends to let themselves go without properly maintaining the hygiene of their inner ear, but things happen. You have a tough few weeks at work, sleep in a few days in a row, disrupt your evening routine for whatever reason, and suddenly you find yourself at once relieved and repulsed at what you’ve extracted from your brain portal. You’re aghast that you’ve let yourself go so long without tending to an important part of your aesthetic maintenance and suddenly have a mini-panic attack wondering and hoping against hope that no one could see this shoddy lack of self-awareness present in your ear. You’re a fool. You’re a slob. You’re repugnant. And you can barely stand to face yourself in the mirror.

All of that instantly fades away once you’ve made those glorious circular passes around the outside of your canal ridding your head of its unwelcome buildup. And while you’re certainly cursing yourself for your letting so much time elapse between visits from the Q-Tip fairy, you can’t deny just…how…good…it feels. There’s something profoundly satisfying about so summarily cleansing yourself after a period of neglect, and with it comes the renewed vow of habitual maintenance from this point forward.

You never want to gross yourself out like this again, so you take a stand right then and there that you’ll make this a regular part of your grooming routine from this point forward. So not only do you get the icky satisfaction of the act itself, you’re rewarded with a renewed sense of determination for the future which is good for the soul. Lot to love about this.

4) Consuming alcohol in a moving vehicle

This has got to be the king of the guilty pleasures. Nothing compares to downing a cold one on your way to a party, or if you’re really ballsy, a work function. Drinking and driving laws are in place for a reason, and CJS in no way endorses drunken driving.

But who can deny getting a jump start on wherever you’re going with beer in a Solo cup? The joy in this activity comes from just how explicitly we’re told not to do this. Never under any circumstances should you get into a car when someone’s been drinking, they tell us. Yeah, but what about if that person knows how to hold their liquor and hasn’t even started their first when we get in?

I feel like I’m treading on dangerous ground here and you’re either pissed at yourself for silently nodding along and agreeing how great this is, or are appalled that I’d even remotely and obliquely endorse drinking and driving. I understand. But let’s take this out of the car for a second. When is drinking the most fun? When you’re not supposed to do it.

Underage drinking is some of the best drinking times you’ll ever have. You’re not allowed to drink while walking along the street in 99% of the cities in America which makes enjoying a beer on the Las Vegas Strip or Bourbon Street that much more fun.

And who can deny the transcendent joy of drinking while traveling? Free drinks on a first class or international flight are undeniably awesome. And how many of you have ever been on a party bus? I’ll bet you’d count that as one of your five greatest drinking experiences. There’s something unspeakably badass about enjoying a cocktail and watching the scenery change probably because it happens so rarely.

Which brings me back to my original point. If you’re not down with your driver drinking at all under any circumstances, I can appreciate that. But think about how great it would be riding shotgun, blasting down the highway, rolling down the windows, cranking some tunes, and enjoying a frosty cold one. My favorite place to listen to music is in the car, so if you add a nice little road soda to the mix, a good thing has become even better.

Road sodas are the drinking equivalent of watching Pulp Fiction. Every time I indulge I’m filled with joy, excitement, fear, anticipation, guilt, and regret. Having a beer in the car encompasses the entire roller coaster of human emotion. In short, it’s the ultimate guilty pleasure.

I’m interested in your real guilty pleasures. Don’t give me “I listen to ‘Sexyback’ while I ride the exercise bike either. I want to hear something you should feel a pang of regret about liking. Feel free to drop me a line, or leave ‘em in the comments below. Because God knows I can’t be the only one going to hell here.

Until next time…

edagger@crujonessociety.com