Hold On To That Feeeeeeeling.

(WARNING: ALL OF THESE LINKS MAKE NOISE, so if you're at work you may want to plug in headphones)

By now you've probably gotten the jist of this. Erikka asked me to write about a taboo or guilty pleasure, so here goes.

Hi, my name is Allie, and I love cheesy music.

Outwardly, I'm a bit of a music snob. I recently got into an argument with my friend Steve* about Nirvana and Foo Fighters. Steve seems to think that since Foo Fighters is an extension of Nirvana, they should totally be included in the recent arbitrary list of the best bands of all time.

And I'm all like, "What kind of crazy talk is this Foo Fighters extension of Nirvana crap? Foo Fighters is Dave Grohl's commercial pop-crap project, and Nirvana was something. At least at the beginning. They were the real deal, man. You can't compare the two just because one was started by a member from the other. It's like saying Jefferson Airplane and Starship are practically the same band."

And then Steve is all like, "Foo Fighters isn't pop. Wikipedia calls them alternative rock."

And I'm like, "If you're going to use Wikipedia as a source to back up your argument, I can't have this conversation with you."

But here's the thing, if I'm ever lucky enough to catch a little Starship on the radio, I'm in heaven. I am always game to belt out the theme song to Mannequin, or We Built This City at the top of my lungs. As long as no one is around to hear it.

Sure, I have the indie local college radio station on preset in my car, but that doesn't mean I like it. That's the station I play when I'm carpooling somewhere with someone else. When I'm by myself, I am rocking out to Journey, Styx, Howard Jones, Foreigner, Whitesnake, or Mr. Mister. When I say BOC, I don't mean Boards of Canada. I mean Blue Oyster Cult (Oh, no, there goes Tokyo!).

If I danced to it in my Laura Ashley jumper at a junior high school dance, I secretly love it, know all the words, and need to sing along.

This rule also extends to my peach Gunne Sax dress and early hip hop at friends' bat mitzvahs. You're on a mission, and you're wishin' someone could cure your lonely condition . . . What can I say, it speaks to me. And isn't that really what music's about anyway -- that feeling you get when a song you love comes on the radio -- the memories it triggers?

So, now that I've 'fessed up to my big guilty pleasure, I'm going to crank up the music and get down. Don't judge me, okay? You've got some skeletons on your iPod. I know you do. Do, however, feel free to judge Steve for putting Foo Fighters on the same level as Nirvana. That's totally different.

*Name changed to protect those with less embarassing music tastes than mine.