The rise of Netflix and MP3 downloads gave me a reckless sense of power. In 2008, I downloaded music and rented movies I had no business in hearing/seeing but that I heard/saw simply because I could. I developed a shameful music catalog so vast I was forced to create a folder named “Guilty Treasures.” I figure that, in order to nip this monster before it grows too big, I will publicly shame myself by revealing what I should have not been enjoying this year in hopes that the humiliation will force my taste in music and film will grow more refined in 2009.

My crimes and misdemeanors are as follows:

I fell fast and hard for Britney Spears’ “Womanizer” and, later, Lily Allen’s cover of the “comeback” track. I even watched Spears’ documentary. Maybe I cried, maybe I didn’t.

As much as Katy Perry made me question humanity with her craptastic hits, I inadvertently developed a taste for “Hot N’ Cold,” occasionally singing it in the shower, the car, whenever my roommates were gone.

On the rare occasion that it aired music videos, MTV seduced me into thinking “Gives You Hell” by All-American Rejects was catchy. The first taste is free.

I eventually gravitated toward crunk and could not stop listening to “Back That Azz Up.” I backed it up in my room, in the shower, the car. I backed it up to “Baby I Got Your Money” by ODB, throwing my hands up in the air. I went off the chain to “Party Up” by DMX and “Pull Over” by Trick Daddy.

Considering the stacks of music-snob-approved records located just feet away from my bedroom, all these Guilty Treasures should never have taken hold. But they did. They took hold so hard.

I resolve to still have fun with my music, but to remember where my heart lies—to remember bands like Wilco and Dios Malos who are both pleasurable and timeless. I resolve to take the time to unearth the quality music buried in the living room. I will save face when someone asks what I’ve been listening to lately.

I’ll do it. I will. Right after this last hit of Lil Wayne.

I swear.