Confessions, Part Two

I’ve several things which if asked point blank, I would deny outright. Because these are things the little bit of my ego and “cool girl” status just couldn’t take copping to. But here I go. I’m going to cop to them. For all to read about. This, ladies and gentlemen, is Confessions, Part Two.

I loved, loved, loved Def Leppard when I was in middle school and early high school. I knew all the band members’ back stories. I felt a certain “kinship” to the drummer because he was an amputee like my mom. I loved their music and thought they were just about as cool as it gets. Now this particular confession is not deniable because of the band itself, but because I was seriously punk at the same time as this foray into hair band Mecca started. There’s no greater treachery to my punk/Goth/new wave roots than to admit to loving a hair band.

When I was in college I followed wrestling. Not the school sponsored, takes immense skill and strength and is also an Olympic sport wrestling. The guys dressed up in copious amounts of spandex all decked in makeup acting out invented personas of varying degrees of sociopathic nature. My best friend in college, her husband and I used to pay actual money for the pay per view events. We’d plan them for weeks. What we were going to eat, what drinks we were going to have on hand, who we’d invite. I even watched the shows by myself sometimes. Oh, yeah, I was a total geek for Sting, Kevin Nash and Scott Hall (aka The Wolf Pack), Triple H and I’m fairly sure I had a dream once or twice about Goldberg.

Lastly? I am so totally in a dither, over the top, can hardly contain myself excited about New Moon opening on Friday. I won’t get to see it for a couple of weeks, if that, but I still cannot wait. Seriously. Cannot. Wait. I stalk Stephenie Myers’ website. I’ve read the books all the way through 4 times in the last year alone. Oh yeah, I’m a total Twlighter.

There you go. Please don’t hold it against me.