So I’m going to sit here and tell you what happened, and I’m not going to take it back, and I’m not going to hate myself in the morning. In fact, I’m tired of hating myself in the morning and making excuses.
Why are we constantly making excuses anyway? Why do we feel like we have to say, hey, I know I’m going to hate myself in the morning, but I had a decision to make, so I made it?
Why do we have to say, hey, I know it’s not cool to do this, but just for this one instance, I don’t care if it’s cool or not. Why do we have to be concerned with whether or not something is cool?
And who the hell decided that Kid Rock is cool? Was it the same person who decided that Christina Aguilera should be allowed to wear that? And why am I ashamed that I don’t have to spell-check her name?
The point is, I was holding the new Beth Orton CD in my left hand and the new Dixie Chicks CD in my right hand, and I couldn’t buy both of them, so I had to choose one of them, and I chose the SO NOT COOL one.
You see, this means that no one in Indie-land will ever take me seriously again. I won’t ever be able to give my opinion on a new Built to Spill album, or wear my Yo La Tengo concert t-shirt without someone accusing me of being earnest.
And I don’t know, maybe I really am getting old, but I’m starting not to care about indie cred anymore. Indie cred used to be so important, you know? Like, I remember one time I was at a really intimate Death Cab For Cutie show chatting up some really sweet, obviously ridiculed-in-high-school kid who probably played drums in some small three-piece with his friends in the basement of one of their mom’s house in the Valley, and he was talking about the latest Unwound album, and he asked me what I thought about it, and I was like, yeah dude, it’s a total psychedelic epic, and the only reason I said that was not because I had ever listened to the album or had any idea who the hell Unwound was but because I figured I had about a 60% chance of sounding legit.
Anyway, I think it’s time I stop apologizing and instead start fessing up, with like, really unabashed, reckless, so-not-indie abandon:
I loved American Idol.
I pronounce “here” like “herre”.
I have watched every episode of Survivor since the first season.
I watched every episode of the first season of Felicity and actually cried when she chose Ben.
I own the soundtrack to “St. Elmo’s Fire”.
I saw Milli Vanilli in concert.
I used to send fan mail to Jordan Knight.
I bought my dog a fleece jacket and have, on several occasions, forced him to wear it just because it looks so cute.
My favorite Friend is not Phoebe.
I drink Starbucks coffee, a lot.
I don’t own every Smiths album, nor do I own a single album by Led Zeppelin.
I once interviewed the lead singer of Everclear and he made me cry.
I like Julia Roberts.
I don’t think Tom Cruise is gay.
I can name every cast member from every season of The Real World.
I still know every word to every song in “Grease 2” and can mime the entire Cool Rider sequence, start to finish.
I think that’s enough for now. Sarah, are you ever going to speak to me after this?