My new thing: Confessions Monday.

Lately, I haven't been as great and diligent at my writing. Much of the reason for that is my upcoming wedding. I feel as though my whole life revolves around getting my business in line for that. Honestly, I don't want to talk much about it any more! I just want it done.

So I decided: Let's do something different. It won't be about my wedding (usually). It will be informative for my casual reader because...I shall be telling you a CONFESSION each Monday. And if you don't care to read my confessions, I don't care much. I just need some way to exercise my writing muscles and this might help.

So, for the inagural confession Monday, I shall confess this: I ACTUALLY LOVE SEX AND THE CITY.

Sigh. I am embarrassed by my love for the show. I own the entire series and have watched it so many times that some of the discs no longer play. This is especially a problem when there are certain episodes I can no longer play. For example, I can no longer watch the episode where Miranda starts hooking up with her marathon buddy and they deal with the "butt-licking" issue. That is a particularly hilarious episode that I can no longer watch. This makes me sad.

When an ex-boyfriend bestowed these DVDs on me years ago, he had no idea of the ramifications. I would begin with Season One, the Pilot (you know, when Carrie had brown hair and would speak directly into the camera) and watch a few episodes each day. When I finished with the end of Season Six (Part Two), I would start over. Again. And again. And again.

I do feel slightly shameful about this. Then again, such is the nature of a confession: something about which you feel shame. Right?

Let it be known that I do not live my life like a Sex and the City girl. I do not buy expensive shoes (my budget does not allow it). I do not drink Cosmopolitans (I think they are rather gross). I do not sleep around. My friend and I do not identify ourselves with the characters, unless we are doing so in jest. I am not going to move to NYC anytime soon to "find love." (As an aside, did anyone else think that plot line in the first SATC movie was ridiculous? Who moves to a city to find LOVE?) I found my love in Chicago. So I'm good. I might drink champagne too much, and I might have a few girlfriends with whom I adore getting together and either eating and drinking ourselves silly, or just getting together and playing games, I am no SATC girl.

Honestly? I think the show is highly entertaining. I love New York. I love their clothes. I even love Carrie's stupid puns. I love the crazy situations. And yes, I can identify with some of the themes and feelings involved. I don't delude myself and tell everyone that my life is like an episode of SATC. (Says the girl with FABULOUS in her blog title. Sigh.) I am who I am. And who I am? I am a girl who loves SATC. Deal with it.

There you have it. My first confession of many. Maybe.

Confession time.

So yeah, I have a confession to make. I'm not really proud of it, but I really, really love bad movies. Like LOVE them. In fact, I think I love Netflix streaming so much because the bad movies that I'd probably be too ashamed to put on my queue? I can watch them straight to our BLUE-RAY PLAYER (thanks for showing me how, P.I.C.)

This is no revelation to myself. Nope. I have known this for years. I could never EVER turn off the movie Cry Baby. Same went with Friends 'Til the End. I love them. I love Lifetime. I love made-for-tv. I love all that bad stuff. It makes me swoon with happiness. In fact, I truly believe that the reason I loved this past weekend was because I had a marathon of bad movies.

The movie that really struck my fancy this weekend was Chicago Boricua. What drew me to this movie was the fact that it was filmed and takes place in Chicago. More specifically, it takes place in a neighborhood that is in my backyard. However, upon watching this movie, I have so many questions.

::::SPOILER ALERT::: 

DO NOT READ ANY FURTHER IF YOU DO NOT WANT THE MOVIE CHICAGO BORICUA TO BE RUINED FOR YOU

When did Tata decide she wanted to be una Puertorriqueña? Clearly, her mother was white, living in the suburbs, and her birth certificate stated her name was "Amy" and claimed her ethnicity as Caucasian. How was she capable of speaking Spanish fluently (although truthfully, the movie did not have her speak much Spanish, it just had her with proper pronunciation)? Why did she choose to move to Humboldt Park? Why did she identify so closely with a Puerto Rican ethnicity? These questions pervaded my thoughts last night, so I had to insist that Miss Sass watch the movie to discuss. Sadly, Miss Sass told me she could only made it through half of the movie because she loved herself too much. Touché, Miss Sass. Touché.

So yeah, the truth is I love bad movies. But this is me, putting it out there. Come on, I can't plan a wedding 24/7. A girl has gotta have hobbies, even if they are embarrassing ones.