Do you have a guilty pleasure? Something you enjoy, but that you are embarrassed to admit it? I do. I actually have a couple of guilty pleasures. My husband would tell you that my guilty pleasures make him think that I am a 70 year old trapped in a 30 year-olds body. I have to admit, I do see his point, but I also have to admit that I just can’t help myself. I love Neil Diamond and “Murder She Wrote.”

  • Ladies, I don’t care what age you are, when you hear the golden pipes of one Neil Diamond, you can’t help but crank your stereo up and let the melodious vibrations of every single note take you to another world. His voice sends a tingle up my spine that ends in a severe case of the goose bumps. You just can’t go wrong with any of his songs. From “Forever in Blue Jeans” to “Sweet Caroline,” you can find anything to satisfy you. If loving Neil Diamond is wrong, then I don’t want to be right.

  • Then there is my other guilty pleasure, “Murder She Wrote.” I think I love this show so much, because it is the epitomy of what I wanted to be when I grew up. (Well, it is, minus the everyone dropping like flies around me everywhere I go part.) Other than that, it has been a dream of mine to travel the world to exotic destinations as a famous novelist. I do love the murder mystery part of the show, just wouldn’t want it to happen in real life. My husband thinks that JB Fletcher (the main character) is a serial killer, because everywhere she goes, someone ends up dying. But, a true fan, such as myself would never blasphemy the name of JB Fletcher with such an outlandish lie like that.

    Photo courtesy of Pierre Nel/Flickr