My guilty pleasure is one of the most difficult things to explain to other people. It's also very disparate with the rest of my character. Usually, I am a poised, warm, peaceful sort of person. I'm a classy broad, as I like to say.

But invariably, every Monday night from 9-11 you will find me plunked down on a couch, screaming at the television, and watching professional wrestling.

I know, right? See, it all happened accidentally. One night I was watching Law and Order on USA and there were all these promotional ads for an upcoming episode of RAW. I was bored, so I watched the first couple minutes. I spent the next two hours flipping back and forth between Family Guy and RAW. That night there was an epic street fight between Shawn Michaels and Edge. I was all like "I like that long-haired blond guy a lot better than THAT long-haired blond guy," so I ended up rooting for Shawn Michaels and I never looked back. I now own a Shawn Michaels t-shirt and one of his action figures and his theme music is one of the most played songs on my iPod.

The thing about wrestling is: it's ridiculous! It's all such bullshit. These guys fight brutally epic hour-long matches on pay-per view events on Sunday and are up and ready to go again the next night. They smack each other in the face with ladders. They forget their lines and ad-lib terribly. It's like a cheesy soap opera, but with even more fighting! It's trashy and wonderful and SO much fun and I don't care if y'all think I'm white trash now.

So, if you ever want to see me seriously geek out, mention Shawn Michaels. I dare you.