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Sometimes I try to avoid things that I know I will undoubtedly become obsessed with. Examples of failed attempts are, in no particular order, peanut butter, wine, Boost smoothies, house hunting, bran flakes, Property Ladder, oh, and Location, Location, Location and Relocation, Relocation. You will notice, none of them are particularly productive obsessions.

For this reason, I have been avoiding Glee like the plague. The problem is, I was watching a music channel the other day and they happened to have a Glee Fest. I didn’t want to like it. Really, I didn’t. Too late though, the Glee bug had taken hold and I just HAD to get hold of the first Series. Armed with all 22 episodes, I have embarked upon a Glee-A-Thon over the course of the last couple of days and am now up to the seventh episode. Is it wrong that I find it highly amusing or even more wrong that I actually quite like Sue Sylvester? I imagine myself being sat in a nursing home when I’m 80 coming out with some of Sue Sylvester’s lines. Don’t hate, think about it. If you can’t be rude, obnoxious and say things purely to shock at 80, when can you?

So, it’s official, I am a Gleek. A thirty-something Gleek. Granted, probably not their target audience but I enjoy myself and I’m not hurting anyone, so please don’t judge me too harshly.

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One more thing I have to say, AND, it breaks my heart to, BUT….Glee is even better than Fame. Oh no! Did I say that out loud? I betrayed my favourite show of my childhood. Well strike me down with a feather boa!

Oh another thing, my sister is a High School Drama Teacher and has set up her very own Glee Club. Jealous? You bet I am!

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