But I have a secret shame.
I can’t follow all those rules. That’s why I’m on the fringes of hipster culture, constantly threatened with excommunication by the Hipster Elite. The less shameful of my secret shames is my love of fast food and Dunkin Donuts. Not shameful or secret, but anti-hipster, to be sure. But there’s more.
While I abhor most popular music (If Britney Spears stages a successful comeback, I’ll kill myself), there are things I can’t resist. Maroon 5. Lifehouse. Plain White Tees (I know that Delilah song was overplayed, but when you don’t hear it six times a day, it’s a really great song). I loved Love Actually, Live Free or Die Hard, and The Incredibles. And I’m not at all ashamed of loving any of those things at all.
Nor am I ashamed of my love of country music. I mean, it’s mostly the music from the early to mid 90s that I love, but I love some stuff from today as well. I love Tim McGraw. Toby Keith. Early Martina McBride. Brad Paisley. Keith Urban. The only country station within a 100 mile radius is a preset on my car radio. And while I tend to be relatively secretive about that (look at where I live – country music isn’t really booming out of anyone’s car), it’s not my ultimate secret shame.
None of those things are my secret shame. Are you ready for this?
I love High School Musical.
I know! I know! Believe me I know. And I resisted for years. Years! My sisters both love it, and I was forced to watch both of them while home last December. And I mocked it mercilessly, which was not tolerated. So unable to fully enjoy them the way I wanted (complete with mocking), I downloaded both of them (though with Swedish subtitles superimposed on the screen). And I was not disappointed. There is much to mock. Vanessa Hudgens can’t act to save her fucking life. The dialogue is laughable. (Beyond laughable.) Corbin Bleu’s hair and name are so ridiculous. There are some things so absurd that even my suspension of disbelief couldn’t get past them. The breaking into song not so much, but the breaking into dance was absolutely hysterical. Also hysterical? That the movie tried to convince the viewers that the flouncing, hat-wearing third male lead was in fact not gay, but straight. If he’s straight, I’ll sit through another Counting Crows concert.
Despite the unrealistically innocent, Disney-fied plot, the gay-as-straight boy, and Vanessa Hudgens’ absolute inability to act or otherwise display emotion, I fell in love with it. Me, a 25 year old, fell in love with High School Musical 1 and 2. I watch it to get a cheer, to smile, and to mock things. I sing along with the music in the car. And also, Zac Efron.
I’m not going to lie. Zac Efron is super, super hot. I watch it for him as much as to mock it. There are very few actors I’ll watch doing horrible films, just to watch him. James McAvoy (Atonement was great; Wanted, not so much). Matthew Perry, Topher Grace, Joesph Gordon-Levitt, Michael Vartan, Timothy Olyphant, Leo DiCaprio. Zac Efron joins this very exclusive list. (The list of actresses is actually much the same – the actresses I’ll watch in shitty films are the ones I have major girl-crushes on. But that’s for another entry.)
Zac Efron’s charms notwithstanding, the HSM films aren’t anything to crow about. And I can’t explain why I dig them. And why I’ll drive to Philly to catch it on its opening week with fellow HSM adorer, my sister Angie. But I’m coming out of the metaphorical HSM closet. While I am under no circumstances a blind devotee, I will no longer hide my affection for them. I mock, but I love.
And that is my secret shame.
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