I don’t really believe in the idea of “guilty pleasures.” I don’t think anyone should be ashamed of the things they enjoy, but rather adore them fully and wholeheartedly.
If you have a love for ‘N Sync and peanut-butter-and-mayonnaise sandwiches (blech, though), own it. Power to ya. I think a lot of people (especially during their teen years) feel they have to tailor their interests to fit an image of themselves that they have created — the image they want other people to see.
This stinks, though, because they could be missing out on a TON of awesome potential friends who are yearning to find somebody who shares their passion for ‘90s boy bands. Anyway, I know I’ve talked about this issue before, so I’ll keep it brief.
I personally have seen every episode of “Grey’s Anatomy” twice, I listen to an excessive amount of ‘80s pop music, will eat ketchup on almost anything, and have an unyielding obsession with B-Horror films. The genre of B-Horror is truly a goldmine; few people seem to have discovered its riches.
Since summer strikes me as the best time to watch horror movies, I’m compiling a list of my top three flicks: some of which you may have seen, some not.
The first movie on my list is “Slumber Party Massacre,” a slasher film from 1982 directed by Amy Jones. The title of this movie pretty much describes the entire plot. A group of girls — seniors in high school — decide to have a slumber party coincidentally at the same time a crazed maniac wielding a power drill has been murdering people in their town.
I’m not going to lie; this movie is chock-full of sexism, but that’s basically a given for B-Horror. There’s the stereotypical “dude-bros” loitering outside after dark, hoping to get a glimpse of the girls undressing; and the stereotypical ditsy female characters eating pizza, making margaritas while topless and gossiping unceasingly. This is all part of the package, though. What makes ‘80s slasher films so incredibly great is how mind-numbingly cheesy and predictable they are. I like to think of them as movie candy. They satisfy a craving somewhere inside me, but — let’s face it — they just aren’t considered cinematic genius.