There In Idaho

Oh, I got away all right. I GOT AWAY GOOD.

Actually, I just told my mother last night that it would be nice (and relaxing) to be able to sit with my email once in a while without Peawhistle constantly asking me questions about every keystroke I make. So she's entertaining PW while I read and write. See, so she's good so far.

I've been meaning to plug a certain website for some time. Actually, I plugged it half-heartedly a long time ago, but I don't think I did it the proper justice it required then. Have you all heard of The Onion? The online satirical, swear-heavy humorous newspaper? It's not for everyone, due mostly to the afore-mentioned swearing and other subject matter sometimes contained therein. It's run by a large staff of very funny and talented people.

Anyway, there is a delightfully hilarious woman out there who writes her own satirical, non-swear-heavy humorous newspaper-like website ALL BY HERSELF. She is that fricking funny. I love her dearly, in every way possible that blog-stalking and the law can allow. Yes, Kristi Harrison is the genius behind one of my very favorite websites, Here In Idaho (also linked on the sidebar there if you care to look). I first discovered her humor through her Very Famous Post about running (for exercise? Crazy, I know) around her neighborhood and what her neighbors must think of her efforts. This post (which has apparently disappeared forever unfortunately) was featured on the well-known blog, Navel Gazing At Its Finest, and I've been a loyal follower of Kristi's ever since. Her humor is everything I wish mine was, but clearly isn't.

As I said, I meant to plug this website much, much sooner but I kept forgetting or putting it off. But I cannot put it off any longer. No, ladies and gentleman (there's just one of you, right?), her latest contribution is an article post entitled: "Twilight Makes More Sense if Bella is Disabled (Mentally and Physically)." Oh yes. OH. YES.

Oh my holy yes. Check it out. Become a Google Reader Follower. You will never regret it. She doesn't post often, but when she does she more than makes up for it. Genius takes time you know.

The Long Awaited and Now Entirely Forgotten Review

OK, I figure I've put it off long enough to where most people have forgotten I said I was going to do it. Perfect!

I haven't felt exceeding levels of motiviation to review "Twilight" for two reasons: 1) Half of you cornered me the day after I saw it and asked me my opinion then, and 2) You're all going to be very disappointed in what I have to say anyway. Allow me to explain, won't you?

Let's start with an example. Stephanie (you remember Stephanie) knew the movie would suck, but still held out a glimmer of hope that it wouldn't be as bad as she feared. She wound up hating it. Now class, who can point out where she went wrong? Anyone? Anyone? Yes, that's right, the part where she hoped it wouldn't suck. That was her big mistake. You will discover throughout the rest of my comments here that with regard to Twilight, hope is your worst enemy.

Now let's take another example, that being Ethel, who I also saw the film with. Ethel knew the movie would suck. She hoped for nothing, including coming out without having slit her wrists to end the pain. Ethel walked away from the film pleasantly surprised.

I know how Ethel felt, because I had much the same experience as she. Before the film came out I watched the youtube videos of the Twilight film in production and all versions of previews to be had. Why? Because I did not want to go into this film unprepared, specifically for the worst. The previews alone sent me spiraling into a deep abyss of personal horror. The previews are supposed to be examples of the best parts of a film to entice potential viewers to see it. And the previews were embarrassingly bad. The preproduction videos were even worse. I've decided there's only one thing worse than seeing a trainwreck and that's watching it actually happen. Such were the preproduction videos. Even now the thought of them make me heave just a little. "This is gonna be BAD," I said to myself. I went to see it anyway.

What I discovered while watching the film was that I had successfully set my expectations low enough in nearly every category enough to be satisfied. Two categories though, were a problem for me. The first was the special effects of the film. I recall watching the preproduction shots and thinking, "Man, those special effects look awful. I sure hope (DANGER WILL ROBINSON, DANGER) they aren't nearly as bad in the film itself!" They were. Worse even. And they left me intensely disappointed. I didn't expect much mind you, but I expected them to look better than that. It was not to be so. In fact, what they had saved from showing in the previews for us to marvel at in the film itself were some of the silliest effects of the whole movie. I realize they were working with a tight budget, but how do you screw that up so monumentally? They really should have warned us that Edward's version of "running" would resemble more what a cat does when he doesn't want to be picked up but you pick him up anyway--that comical sort of leg-flinging in midair sorta thing. I only recall chuckling twice during the film, and that was one of them.

The other chuckle I got was contributed in large part by reading Eric D. Snider's review of the film first. If you haven't checked out his film reviews before, you are seriously missing out. The worse the grade he gives a movie, the funnier the review. Not only are his reviews hilariously harsh and sarcastic, but he uses a great deal of hyperbole to make his point. When he said that Carlisle's make-up job was so bad he looked like a mime, I laughed out loud thinking, "Oh Eric, your exaggerations sure do crack me up!" And then when I actually saw Carlisle onscreen with caked-on makeup so extreme and pasty white he actually looked like a mime, I again laughed out loud, because honestly, what are the odds? And how can a director look through a film camera and NOT see what that man looks like?

Aside from those two issues, the rest of the film left me either on track with my original lack of hope or even pleasantly surprised. I need to point out, not surprised because it was good, but because it wasn't nearly as bad as I had prepared myself for. I remember thinking about halfway through, "You know, this is actually kinda cute!" I still think that. It was cute--much cuter than I had ever anticipated. And to boot, the acting wasn't as bad as I had anticipated, either. It was bad, no question. But not AS bad. Are you catching on now? I was even impressed that Kristen Stewart seemed to not be playing herself once or twice. Congratulations, Kristin, you little twit! You didn't hose up the movie entirely by yourself!

Speaking of which, I will also admit that the truck-cruching scene was waaaaay better than I assumed it would be based upon preproduction videos. It was actually kind of exciting! And not just due to the thrill of seeing Kristin Stewart almost get crushed to death! It actually looked almost realistic, with great sound effects and everything. So props to the film for having one awesome five-second scene! W00t!!

And I will also gladly compliment Twilight on its modest levels of humor. I recall laughing out loud several times throughout the two hours at honestly funny jokes. A couple were duds, but by and large, the jokes were funny and by and large, all of the good ones came from Bella's dad, Charlie. Billy Burke (the actor who plays Charlie) has been in comedies before (most notably "Jane Austin's 'Mafia!'") and his excellent comedic timing and deadpan delivery did not go unnoticed by me. He was the best part of that whole film (other than Kristen getting squashed).

We were in an audience full of several different kinds of folks, ranging from the young girls to senior citizens out on their date night. And several times during the film we had moments full of laughter that was not intentional by the film. I didn't understand this. If they had done even the slightest amount of research, none of the crappiness they saw should have surprised them to the point of laughter. Who honestly went into this movie thinking it would be good? Like, on normal scales of achievement? Who did these people think they were kidding?

If you have yet to see the film because you live under a rock or are as cheap as all get out, approach the film the same way you should have approached the books: with a healthy dose of caution, extreme research beforehand, and miserably low expectations. If you hope for anything it will not happen. I guarantee that is the only formula for successfully emerging from the experience with happy thoughts.

I'd like to end on a funny note by directing you to Eric Snider's Rejected Twilight Screenplay. For those not in the know, Eric Snider is first and foremost a comedic writer. His "rejected" screenplay is similar in style to the abridged Titanic screenplay he wrote ten years ago that caught on like wildfire around the internets. You might as well go read that one, too.

"I Can See Russia From My Premiere!"

I can't believe it snowed in Maryland in November. I can't remember the last time that happened. Well, MY part of Maryland that is (my part is the one part getting sunshine while the rest is in the midst of a blizzard; basically, where I live sucks). Anyway. Thought I'd share my joy.

On to the vitriol! Last night I made a concerted effort to catch Letterman since Stephen Colbert was on plugging his Holiday Special coming up this Sunday night at 10pm. We all recall the love and affection I feel for Stephen, despite his hating me for my religion alone (don't deny it Stephen! Not that you would or anything!). Oh yes, I am nothing if full of love, hope, and charity, the pure love of Christ, and that goes for people who hate me in return. Or rather, people who amuse me enough that I don't care whether they hate me or not. You hate me AND you're not even funny about it? Forget that.

So SC was entertaining as always and I'm glad I caught him. I also wanted to catch Letterman because Kristen Stewart of "Twilight" fame was going to be on. If I'm going to be packing myself (plus Stephanie and Ethel) into a movie theater full of shrieking teenaged girls, I want to know what I'm totally getting into first. I will come to my thing about the movie in a second, never fear my pets. First, Kristen. I've only seen her in two things to date: a bit part in "Jumper" and the "Twilight" previews. Up until last night, I could honestly say I'd hated her as an actress in every single thing I'd seen her in. And after last night on Letterman, I can now say I officially hate her as a person, too. It finally struck me last night that Kristen (and I will refer to her only as Kristen, because calling her "Stewart" would do a severe disservice to Jon of the same) does not just act like a despressed, inert and tragically expressionless teenager, she IS a despressed, inert and tragically expressionless teenager. The only thing I observed her doing last night through her mumbled speech and constant crossing and uncrossing of her hideously toothpick-like legs, was running her fingers through her now red hair and flipping it around. Really, that's it. She even admitted to Dave (who was not amused) that she is incredibly boring and she wondered what on earth she would even talk about when she came on. Huh, how about the movie you're so inexpertly plugging? If your life is as tedius and dull as your expression indicates, then talk about something else. FOR THE LOVE OF ALL THAT'S GOOD IN THIS WORLD, TALK ABOUT SOMETHING ELSE. Her final parting mumbled exchange revealed that when the European premiers are through, she will get a car from where ever she is at that moment ("You know, London, or Berlin, or whatever") and drive to Russia. Dave replied, "Well, let's hope it's Berlin." It amazes me how often he has to save his interviews from his own guests and their collective stupidity.

And then they showed the clip she brought from "Twilight," which was the boring bit about her asking Edward how old he is and how long he's been that-a-way, blah blah blah. She would have done better to bring the clip of her getting squashed by the truck--I'm sure after that interview people would have been mobbing the theaters just to see that. Take my advice, Kristen. People don't like celebrities who look and act like narcissistic jerks who are too cool for the rest of us. And I hate to break it to you, but when the fans don't like you, they don't pay for your movies and you're out of a job. Russell Crowe, bless his crazy frickin' heart, learned that the hard way. One year he earned the #1 spot on the list of celebrities who are jerks to their fans. And then the very next year he was at the top of the list of celebrities who are the most fan-friendly who don't chuck cell phones when they're angry! It's a Christmas miracle! And I hate to bring this tidbit up as well, but Russell Crowe can actually act. He's GOOD at it. In the spirit of the holiday season, I will refrain from completing my thoughts on the list of differences you have with Russell Crowe. Much like Val Kilmer, you are not a good enough actor to be able to go into public without a huge smile on your face and a kind word for every idiot you meet without eventually winding up asking people if they would care for fries with that. I loath being the one to bring this up to you, but you aren't accomplished enough to be who you are at this very moment. If you improve your acting in any possible way, I would hone up your people skills first and act like a normal non-sulky, non-standoffish little lady. You'll get a lot further in life that way. Now go to your room and think about what you've done.

Yes, we're going to the movie tonight. Why wouldn't we? The previews themselves, as I've alluded to earlier, were painful enough to leave me in a cringing heap of siezures; I suspect the movie can't be much better. But see it we must! And try not to laugh we also must! But if I have to kill a few teenagers to get the best theater-going experience possible, I will not hesistate to do so. But in all honesty, that's really my standard operating code in any situation. If they're anything like oxygen-wasting Kristen, I figure I'm doing their families a favor anyway. Zing!

"Really??"

See? Look. Really long time. Thanks for commenting, some of you.

Anyway, if you follow Navel Gazing, you've already seen this. If you don't, go follow that blog and then get back to me. I'm stealing the video she has up right now. It's GREAT.



See? GREAT. And in case you hadn't seen it (and thus didn't get some of the parody) here is the official trailer it was based upon:

Randomness I've seen

Back when I lived in No. Virginia ages and ages ago, I frequently went to the IHOP in Alexandria with my friend, Teri. Actually, there were two IHOPs in Alexandria, but once we discovered the second, we never went back to the first. Sure, the first one had good pancakes, but the second. Well, the second one had dinner and a show for the same price! She was there every night we went, leading me to surmise that she simply lived at work, possibly in a stall in the bathroom. She was our Crazy Waitress and we looked forward to seeing her every time. Crazy Waitress would wander from table to table taking people's orders while simultaneously carrying on her own long-running conversation with herself. "I told him, I tells him, hi ladies, can I take your order? I tells him "If you think I'm working this Sunday, you've got another thing coming!" and I'm afraid we're out of that drink, how about a Coke instead? and my boss continues to yell at me so I tells him, you want that with the pancakes or the hashbrowns ma'am? OK, so I tells him that if I don't get off Sunday I'm finally quitting! and how would you like your eggs done? I'm telling you, your order will be out shortly, I'm telling you I'm not doing this anymore!! We'll have words and...." And the conversation would fade as she moved on to the next table of enthralled, incredulous customers. When Teri moved away I never went back to that IHOP, but I sure hope Crazy Waitress patched things up with her boss because I would hate knowing the establishment had thrived without her.

I was at the mall the other day munching on a slice of pizza in the food court. We sat right next to one of those Tetris-like stand-alone games called "Stacker." The prizes you can win ranged from crappy, cheap stuffed animals to PlayStation 2s. I was entertained by two young future juvenile hall candidates who were thrilled out of their brains that they could possibly win a PS2 just by playing a lousy mall game. I was even more entertained noting that they didn't bother to notice that the PS2 box they so lusted after was twice as big as the prize claim chute and door they would supposedly retrieve it from. How can such a thing not totally make my day?

I saw a bumper sticker on a car in the mall parking lot one day. It said "Fat people are harder to kidnap." I've pondered the depth of this statement and have come to the conclusion that truer words have never been communicated via car appendage. I'm going to switch from eating donuts for breakfast to serving them for dinner instead.

I had a friend in elementary school named Joey. He was a delicate, sensitive boy, and the only boy among several sisters; he was spoiled like crazy. Joey, the little flower, had a penchant for passing out when he saw gross things. In 5th grade we were watching a film of a woman being X-rayed while eating an apple. When the apple began to move through her digestive system, we heard a loud SMACK on the floor. The teacher turned on the lights and we all crowded around the limp form of Joey sprawled out on the floor. The teacher, an elderly lady (she was our 6th grade teacher's teacher back when he was a boy, if that's any indication), grabbed his hand and dragged a newly conscious and confused Joey down the hallway to the nurse's office. The next year, we were watching Eskimos gut a seal when, again, a loud WHAP disrupted our fascination and turned it toward Joey's body. Andy had the sensitivity to inquire if Joey was dead this time around. The teacher, a fairly large and fit man, kindly carried poor confused Joey to the nurse's office. I think Joey got notes from his mom after that. Later, his mom confessed that Joey frequently passed out while watching TV at home, which only raised even more obvious questions like "What the hell are you letting your son watch at home?" and "Why are you letting him watch it?" *Sigh* Poor sensitive, girly Joey. He's making a dollar-a-minute as a concert pianist now, so I guess it all worked out for him, especially considering the comparative lack of gross things associated with piano-playing and all. And I guess classical concerts in general.

And finally, Stephenie Meyer. Ah, Stephenie. Do you hate us that much? Or did you just get bored and decide to stop writing? You know, before the last Indiana Jones film came out George Lucas said he knew some people would hate the ending. I said at the time, "Well I refuse to be one of those people!" Well, I hated it. Before Breaking Dawn came out, Stephenie Meyer said she knew some people were going to hate how it ended. I thought, "Well I'm not going to be one of those people!" Again, I hated it. I've come to the intelligent conclusion that I am in fact "some people" and "one of those people." I think I should just start listening to folks when they tell me I'm not going to like their work and take their word for it.

My Own Personal Edwards

I apologize for my brief hiatuses. For those that don't know me well, it should prove interesting to know that I talk on my blog precisely as frequently as I talk in reality. I'm still unsure how I have friends at all since I rarely, if ever, speak to them. Shockingly, I was actually talking to one of them yesterday and we mused over our penchant for emailing friends who live two minutes away. Myself, I like to change things up once in a while. Sometimes calling them, sometimes emailing them, sometimes showing up at their houses unexpectedly and demanding answers, and sometimes writing my questions in their front lawns with gasoline (pricey means I love you!). Regardless of the vehicle, I only talk when something needs to be said.

I've discovered that I subconsciously seek out chatty friends. I have very few friends who are as quiet as I am; otherwise, the conversation transforms from the obligatory small talk to a perpetual staring contest. We have to be Made For Each Other for me to be friends with a quiet person and obviously, my list of that type of friend is short. Otherwise, I seek out talkative friends who can carry the conversation for me so I can nod and express my interest through a series of grunts and raised eyebrows. Don't get me wrong; if you ask me a direct question, or if I have something to add that is pertinent enough to the conversation you're engaged in, I'll say it. Aside from that, don't expect me to say much, if ever. It's not that I don't like you. I just don't like people and talking to them. See? We're still cool, right?

On to today's business. It has come to my marvelous attention via my personal informer that there are several people out there who either know me only vaguely or not at all who read this blog on a regular basis. My source also tells me that these people seem to be embarrassed by this because they don't know me well and don't want to be seen as "creepy" or "stalkerish." First of all, it's obvious that they don't know me because it takes a lot to scare me. Commenting on my blog is not only not creepy in any fashion, but also very fun for me. I do not think you are a stalker simply because we have not been properly introduced. Perhaps if you were to secret yourself away in my window well, or maybe mail me Hallmark cards made out of bullets, well then, I might be a tad concerned and suggest you save those well-thought out activities for someone who can appreciate your time and talents a bit more. But reading and commenting on my blog? Please. Nothing would give me more joy. (Please note the stress I'm placing on the word "comment." There's a reason for that. Go do it.)

Second of all, have you looked at my sidebar recently? The one titled "Websites and Blogs I Regularly Stalk"? I am so not kidding about the stalking part. And that's not even all the blogs I frequent, just the ones I think large audiences would also be interested in visiting. I have a ready list of total and complete strangers that I keep up with. Why? Because I stumbled upon their blogs one day and had to come back to see how it turned out. I even comment on their blogs when it strikes me to do so. They may think it's weird, but who cares? If you don't want me reading your blog, then switch off the option that allows your blog to be found via search engines (you can do that you know). Anyone who enables that option clearly doesn't mind visitors. I take full advantage of that invitation.

And lastly, I especially love knowing that there are people out there who know me but pretend they don't know I have a blog they read despite the contrary. They think because they weren't specifically invited to this party that they are unwelcome. Pfft. I specifically invited about three of my readers personally--the rest came by word-of-mouth. Obviously I'm fine with it and I even encourage it in a passive sort of way. So for all of my neighbors named Melissa who live three doors down who think I don't know they read my blog but probably shouldn't have told Stephanie if they wanted to keep it a secret, I love that you're here. The fact that I'm watching you right now through your front window should indicate just how much. Oh, I'm not there? I probably just went on a bathroom break. I'll be right back so just hang tight. Next time you could be a little more supportive and offer your own bathroom so I don't have to walk so far and lose my concentration.

Please, by all means everyone, read away. If I didn't want you here I would make my blog private so all of three people could read it. If I didn't want you to comment on anything I would turn off that option. If I didn't want you as friends I would never talk to y--...wait, scratch that. Point is, stay. Feel welcome. And for the love of Michael Phelps, comment when you have something to say, OK? Don't make me come to your house to get what I want. Gas is so expensive these days.

My Birthday Wish Came True!

First off, my many thanks to my parents for my new digital camera. It allows me to finally show you my photos in near-real time!!!

Friday was my birthday. I spent it well enough, mostly looking for things to buy with various gift cards I'd legally acquired. I found myself at Barnes & Noble. They were advertising the Twilight Saga book release party for Breaking Dawn. I asked a few questions. Nah. Amusing thought, but nah. However, with my curiosity now piqued, I drove to Borders Books and found a couple of more helpful employees who were decorating for their version of the party. Now, Borders I had a gift certificate for. And I'm a member of their thingy or whatever. And they told me I would get 40% off the book price if I bought it that night. Hm. "Is it going to be a bunch of 16-year-olds and me? 'Cause I refuse to be the old freak there." No, they assured me that "other old women" would be there, too. Well that was a load off. I made up my mind regardless. The reduced book price, combined with the winning formula of a teenaged debate over Edward and Jacob and a sure-to-be-awesome costume contest, and how could I not go?

I mulled over exactly who would be willing to accompany me on such an excursion rife with possibilities. Of the friends who had read the book(s), I could only find two who were willing to go on short notice (the rest of the people I considered are dead to me now. DEAD!). Jody read the books and enjoyed them. She's also too nice to say no, especially on my birthday. She agreed to go. Lisa read the first book and hated it. She's not too nice to say no, but fortunately I have guilt working on my side that forced her hand. Her excuse was something about her getting away from her family, but I know deep down that she only came because 1) it was my birthday 2) she DITCHED MY BABY SHOWER, and 3) SHE DITCHED MY BABY SHOWER. So she agreed to come. I was giddy with anticipation. Our mighty trio was unstoppable.

And then we got there. Jody and I arrived together first and just stared at the unholy mass before us. This mass was in the midst of a painful trivia contest led by one of the fearless employees I had spoken with hours before. Jody and I stared at each other. I instantly thought to myself that this was a big mistake. Gah, two more hours of this?? What was I thinking? Fortunately, it didn't take long for the quiet observations to begin, and when Lisa arrived those observations stopped being as quiet.

Lisa brought me a giftbag for my birthday (I think there was something in it--I can't recall now). As she arrived during the Heated Debate portion of the festivites, I used my new bag to announce my preference for Team Mike, mostly in hopes of irritating some fans. Instead, mostly it just amused them to the point of one girl even asking if she could take a photo of my bag and the Volturi-chick high-fiving me. Sure, whatever, just take my joy from me already IT'S ONLY MY BIRTHDAY.

Over the course of the evening I offered $5 to Jody if she would get up in the middle of the debate and make a solid case for Mike over Edward or Jacob. I also offered $5 to Lisa if she would get up to the mic and tell the entire crowd exactly what she thought of Twilight. Sadly, neither took me up on my offer. Should I have offered $10?

Speaking of the Heated Debate. When I read the evening's program (organized, aren't they?) I was pleased to learn about the Edward v. Jacob debates and what that would entail. I was disappointed to find that instead of the orderly panel discussion that Jody and I had envisioned, it was a screaming free-for-all. Now, don't get me wrong. That was entertaining in its own right certainly. I especially loved the fiesty black mother who got up and yelled, "I'd rather have my daughter bring home a dog than a dead man!" Not surprisingly, this comment was met with much enthusiasm from the crowd, including Jody who applauded comments in Jacob's favor, and also Lisa, who was screaming loudly and applauding any comment from either side that she could hear or not hear. I've never been so entertained.

The costume parade was next. Most of the books' female vampires were represented, with my favorites being the Volturi member and "Rosalie." Of all the freakshows, Rose was the nicest and gladly let me take her photo. Imagine my joy when I discovered yesterday in conversation with Gwennifer that she actually knows the girl in the photo. Seriously, what are the odds?



While the "vampires" were getting their photo taken I attempted to sneak up behind in hopes of recreating my favorite photobomber photo:

Instead, Lisa saw me creeping up behind them and announced in a very loud voice, "My friend, Abby, LOVES your costumes! Can she be in the photo with you?" So I had to actually pose with the lot. Thanks a million, Lisa. At least I made up for it a little by mustering as much visible stupidity as I possibly could for their photos.

The evening progressed with various activities to keep us from trashing the place and ending up in prison (I'm assuming that was their goal anyway). Borders employees handed out buttons and stickers that said things like "I was bitten by Breaking Dawn," "Breaking Dawn left me breathless...." and "Bella & Edward 4ever." They also handed out stickers for Team Jacob and Team Edward with the respective actors' faces on them. I still regret not getting a photo of the girl who had covered her entire upper body in Jacob stickers.

Most of our conversations with strangers happened to be with mothers of daughters in the crowd. You know, since we looked old and safe. But by and large the most enlightening conversation we had took place with a couple of mid-teen girls. One of them expressed her fondest desire to live long enough to see the creation of an Edward/Jacob Rock 'em Sock 'em game. The only thing that she would love to see even more, as it turns out, is a topless mud wrestling match between the female characters in the book. When we didn't respond (what do you say to that?), she defended her wish by stating that no one would be more interested in such a match than teenage girls. We stared at her until she went away.

As 11:30 approached, the Event Staff (aka Book Event Law Enforcement) raffled off the first place in line (a raffle I was informed I could not enter because I hadn't had the foresight to reserve the book last week--and yet, a different lady said I could do whatever I wanted. I'm sure she knew it was my birthday. Mostly because Lisa and Jody kept telling her it was.). We didn't win. So we got in the back of the line and got pushed around by obnoxious, intentionally oblivious teens. As midnight approached, we began hearing brief screams from the front of the queue. We finally decided they screamed at the top of the minute as the time approached midnight. We got to hear two countdowns from the crowd, the first being a false alarm since the crowd forgot to take into account that the books only could be sold at 12:01, not midnight.

I would like to take this opportunity to thank Jody and Lisa for going to a function they certainly didn't need to attend, all for company's and entertainment's (and Guilt's) sake. They didn't even buy a book and yet they waited in line with me until nearly 12:30am until I acquired one of my own, cheering me on and reminding the crowd yet again that it was my birthday. Smart-alecs....

You wish you had friends like mine. Well, two of them anyway.

DEAD! Do you hear me? DEAD!

Betrayal

It has come to my attention that my current interest in the Twilight Saga has not gone unnoticed by those who disapprove with this choice in reading material. I went to a wedding reception this evening where I briefly spoke with my friend, Ethel, upon entering the building. She warned me that her husband, Fred, had become aware of my recent readings and was most upset. She explained that he had come to believe I was one of the few non-crazy women in the world, what with my MST3K obsession and general interest in other "boy things" as Stephanie would put it (my friend, Bonny, pointed out that if he knew me was well as he claimed to, he never would have been able to reach the conclusion that I was less than insane to begin with; I concurred). The thought of me reducing myself to what both he and his wife call "pre-teen porn" was abhorrant to his sensitivies. Such amused me to no end.

To confirm Ethel's original assessment (lest I be deprived of humor if the answer changed), I checked in with her again before leaving the building. She further clarified that more than anything, Fred was "disappointed" in me. And as we all well know from our indoctrination via The Andy Griffith Show and Leave It to Beaver, having someone be disappointed in you is worse than being electrocuted while your murder victim's families witness your death.

As per the "pre-teen porn" angle, there were a couple of scenes I was surprised to see laid out in a book for 12-year-olds, too.

"My eyes narrowed as I clenched my eyebrows together into a single jagged line. "Hm. That was...saucy," I fretted to myself, convinced that the end of all that was good in my world had finally come to an end when the racy sentence concluded. My chest heaving, I wept openly for the rising generation of pre-teens who were willingly consorting with this brand of degrading literature. My only comfort in this time of uncertainty and misery was to turn to Edward, who was nearly--but not quite--as comfortable as a bag of brick bats in cement. I eagerly snuggled into his blindingly white arms and chest as his breath lulled me to sleep with its comforting and familiar aroma. His absolute-zero body temperature gave me hypothermia, but it was a sexy hypothermia so that was OK. He gently hummed the lullaby he'd written for me--composed no doubt during one of the hundreds of evenings he had illegally broken into my home to watch me sleep in a Ted Bundy-ish sort of "I love you so I stalk you" way. I suddenly felt his entire body tense and I knew that he was fighting his natural urge to kill me. Most people in my life had to fight the same urge on a daily basis, but with him it was different. It was different because he was hot.

"Sure, I had friends who hated themselves enough to hang out with me (I'm a bit of a Debbie Downer at times!), and even one kid who convinced himself that we were meant to be together, just because we "loved each other" and our relationship would be "normal" and "healthy" and "non-lethal." Whatever, screw him. "OH MY GOSH I CAN'T BELIEVE I JUST SAID THAT GET ME THE PHONE EDWARD I HAVE TO CALL JAKE AND TELL HIM I'M SORRY AND I LOVE HIM AND WON'T HE PLEASE LET ME STRING HIM ON JUST A LITTLE BIT LONGER?" Edward, who loves being used and immasculated, dialed for me, apologized for me, confessed his love to Jacob for me, willingly continued the charade with Jacob for me, and hung up with a kiss and a fond farewell. Isn't Edward the best?

"Edward is absolutely everything I want, need, and dream about when I'm not wanting, needing, and dreaming about Jacob. I can't believe I just thought that! I instantly apologized to Edward, who immediatley, and appropriately, blamed himself and begged me not to feel even an ounce less than absolute and utter joy every waking second of my life. My cornflakes didn't taste quite right this morning, throwing me into a deep depression for the rest of the afternoon. Edward took full responsibility for my less-than-satisfactory cereal experience and attempted suicide. I honestly appreciated the gesture, even if it didn't rectify the cornflake-failure situation. Since then we've been as excruciatingly happy as any living being and corpse can possibly be together, and all because he was willing to take his own life the second the corners of my mouth even hinted at being less than electrically thrilled. His rippling pectorals and I are soulmates, and I will never again allow them to leave my side for any reason at all, including bathroom breaks.

"I just hope he doesn't ask me to marry him, because honestly, is there anything worse in this world than being married to the person you love, worship, adore, and want to spend eternity with? Marriage. Ew. If only there was some way to just bind our love together, officially, perhaps with some kind of ceremony. Of course we'd need some sort of official person to perform our love-binding ceremony, and we should probably get dressed up a bit for it. Maybe I should even throw on a dress or something. I'd love it if my family and friends could witness this love-binding ceremony, and oo! we could even have cake afterwards! I'm so glad I thought of this!" And...scene.

If it helps, Fred, I myself am surprised that I not only actually read Twilight to begin with, but that I found myself enjoying it despite its many shortcomings. Many, many shortcomings. It's fun, lighthearted fair full of mythical creatures like vampires, werewolves, and teenagers who are capable of rational thought. I can't always read books like biographies of General Douglas MacArthur (rivetting as that was for me). Twilight and all its silliness is the perfect balm when life walks the fine line between sanity and insanity, creating havoc and damage to your mind along the way. It reverts your memory to a simpler time when your only responsibilites were keeping a clean room and keeping your siblings out of your stuff. It's childhood all over again...but with fewer Indian burns and wet willies.

Ah, Twilight Squee

So I spent yesterday stalking the Twilight Obsessed Crowd over at the Twilight Lexicon to get more information about the upcoming film and cast. The first thing I noticed is that it was a mistake to go there, what with blatant spoilers being thrown about in post titles. Crap. Now that that was out of the way, the second thing I noticed were the abundant amusing avatars and banners. Rather than inundate Stephanie's inbox further, I decided to just post the ones I enjoyed the most here. I realize that if you haven't read the book(s) many of these will be lost upon you, but you'll notice that isn't stopping me.

And my favorite:

A Toast to the Happy Couple

All this talk of vampires has made me reminisce about my early teen years when a short-lived television series titled "Dracula: the Series" aired. Like every other female who watched it I fell in love with it. Actually, that's not entirely true. We easily forgave the predicatable silliness of the show with its largely poorly written plots and over-the-top characters all for the sake of getting to gawk at the show's main character, Alexander Lucard (Dracula spelled backwards, ha HA!). He is dutifully played by the jaw-droppingly gorgeous Canadian actor, Geordie Johnson. This very blond Dracula is still out and about and living large as the now-CEO of his own corporation based in Luxembourg. He is a sophisticated, shrewd business tycoon by day, vicious hunter by night. He is constantly thwarted and hounded by his personal thorn in his side, Gustav Helsing, descendent of the famous Professor Van Helsing, vampire hunter extraordinaire. Gustav is "aided" by his two young grand-nephews, Christopher and Maximillian, and his recently acquired ward, Sophie. Gustav's son, Klaus, had been transformed into a vampire by Lucard many years prior. Of course, Gustav has never forgiven Lucard for taking away his only child and is constantly seeking a cure for vampirism to bring Klaus back home. Klaus, after being bitten, became terrifyingly insane and is only occasionally loyal to Lucard and always dangerous to everyone else.

Naturally, Dracula has acquired several enemies throughout his years beyond just the Helsing clan and sometimes Klaus. In the series, Nosferatu is a German vampire who has had a longstanding feud with Dracula. Nosferatu's vampire girlfriend is one Dr. Cross. Both vampires have successfully eluded destruction by Dracula but have yet to defeat him themselves despite several attempts.


Geordie Johnson was born to play this part if for no other reason than his talented "Transylvanian" accent. In the original Dracula the Count's accent was supposedly very peculiar because he learned to speak English from reading rather than hearing the language. As luck would have it, Geordie Johnson is completely incapable of producing a genuine accent from any given locale or nationality on earth. All of his accents have a distinct and odd European quality to them, but the specificity stops there. This fact has not gone unnoticed by him and it has provided us with no small measure of amusement over the years.

And why do I bother telling you this? So when I mock the hundreds of trainwreck fanfictions that have since sprung up all over the internet dedicated to Lucard and this show, you'll know what I'm referring to. The pattern never varies: a gorgeous, intelligent, single young woman flies to Luxembourg for various contrived purposes and eventually somehow runs into the ever-perfect Lucard. He is instantly charmed by her and vice versa, but she resists him out of principle. Eventually she gives in after she realizes she's fallen in love. She's human of course, and yet he comes to love her so completely himself that he cannot be brought to harm her in any way. In at least two fanfictions I've read (both by the same hateful woman who should be banned from posting her thoughts where others can read them), Lucard actually marries the girl, complete wedding and all, living happily ever after.

Several years ago my Canadian friend (i.e., she talks funny), Alyssa, and I spent an entire summer making fun of these projects. One evening she dared me to write my own Lucard fanfiction, claiming I couldn't make it all the way through it. I rejected her assertion and set to work, attempting to write the greatest fanfiction of all time. I started out with the best of intentions, but those fell by the wayside after approximately two sentences. Despite that I still coughed up the story and she enjoyed it immensely.

Having enjoyed writing it and wanting to keep the good times rolling for posterity, I wanted to duplicate my fanfic here on my blog (with a couple of updates and edits of the original). Having recently completed Twilight, it seems all the more appropos now. You're more than welcome to read it if you have the time. Behold, the new and improved "Dracula: The Wedding Story."

As a single, long-legged, long-haired brunette beauty, who would have imagined I would one day become the object of love of the wealthiest and hottest man in the world? It all began when I took a plane to Luxembourg for no reason at all. I stepped off the plane, caught a taxi into the middle of town, and began aimlessly to wander the quaint streets of what would one day become my home (or so I was to find out later).

I had walked in a daze for only a short while before I literally bumped into my destiny. This "destiny" happened to come in the form of a tall, blond man, impeccably dressed in an Armani suit and Gucci shoes. He had a beautiful smile full of sparkling white teeth and eyes as blue-green as the heavens during hurricane season, with that distinctive touch of gray pollution in the air. While apologizing profusely to the man for accidentally bumping him and knocking him into a puddle of goo, I noticed something in his eyes...could it be?...yes. Yes, it was desire for the one and only me.

He eyed me closely, slowly perusing my gorgeous body, then my gorgeous face, my gorgeous hair, and listening to my better-than-gorgeous voice. I couldn't imagine what he saw in little ol' me, but there he was, desiring away.

He began, "I'm Alexander Lucard. And who is this treasure before me?"

"Anna Fantanasana. Pleasure to meet a hottie such as yourself."

He laughed a perfect laugh before responding, "I'm equally pleasured, Ms. Fantanasana." He had such a delicious, odd accent I simply had to comment.

"Your accent is so unique...so utterly unplaceable. Where are you from?" His demeanor changed suddenly to irrationally furious.

"My accent is perfectly placeable! How can you not tell where I'm from based on my accent?? I worked for MONTHS on this accent! YEARS even!! Can't you tell I'm originally from Transylvania and learned English from reading books?!"

Startled by his clearly insane response, I answered, "I do apologize Mr. Lucard. It's absolutely obvious to me now. You have a perfect accent, I promise. I've never been very good at these sorts of things, you know."

Placated by my lie, the blond continued on. "You are a vision of beauty Ms. Fantanasana, and I simply must have you," quickly adding, "over to dinner, I mean. Yes, dinner." Intrigued by his perfect posterior, and hoping to see quite a bit more of it, I agreed.

"Now, before I come tonight, I feel compelled to ask your intentions toward me. While I'm no pillar of virtue myself, I can't have everyone thinking I'm totally easy and a skank-ho, even if I am."

"My lovely dear, I have nothing but the utmost respect for you. Because of this, I feel I must tell you the truth. I am a vampire. Dracula, in fact. Yes, yes it's true. The one and only Dracula. Dracula himself, Dracula The Man. Dracula, the one who is worshipped by all women everywhere and most men, including myself. And although I should normally want to suck you dry, I have an inexplicable love for you. I've loved you ever since I met you two minutes ago. Yes, Anna, for that long. You never knew, but I've loved you from the start. Ms. Anna Fantanasana, you are my future, my destiny."

"Ha! Destiny? That's what I said! How about that!"

"Please shut up. I'm not finished."

"Sorry."

"Anna, I love you. You are everything I've ever wanted or needed in my life or unlife or undeath, or whatever the hell you call it. Anna...will you please do me the distinct honor," and getting down on one knee, "of being my wife (until I tire of you, kill you, and feed your corpse to the hounds)?"

"What was that last part?"

"Um, nothing."

"Well Alexander, while I also love you more than life itself, I don't feel right now is the best time for this. I'm currently dating two guys already, and trying to score with the bagboy at Albertson's on top of that. I simply can't be tied down to a husband right now. However, if you'd like to just go a round or two right now, I..."

Lucard interrupted, "NO! If I have you, I must have all of you all at once all the time every fricking minute. I'm just that possessive. Don't make me beg Anna, it isn't becoming of a man of my stature."

"Beg for it Blood Boy."

Transitioning from a kneel to down on both knees, and then on all fours, the vampire sobbed, "Please Anna! I love you more than anything! Marry me or I'll implode, I swear!"

"Damn, you're kinda creepy, even for such a hottie."

I turned and walked away, only to notice I was dragging an extra 170 pounds. A policeman stopped me, eyeing the spectacle before him, and calmly asked, "Do you need help ma'am?"

"No, I'm fine officer."

"But you've got a man attached to your ankles...and he's biting one of them."

"No, no, I've got the situation well under control. But I thank you for your concern."

With great effort, I struggled to make my way to my hotel several miles away, Lucard in tow via my ankles the whole way. I could hear him screaming behind me, "Please Anna! This is ridiculous! Surely you can see you love me and I love you and we should be married! And you're tearing up my suit and I look like hell! PLEASE!"

I stopped at the entrance to the hotel to turn and finally respond. But as I looked down on his dirty and bloody face, his eyes tearing up from the gritty gravel that had gotten in them, his hair full of dust from the streets, I saw before me the man I wanted to spend the rest of my life with.

"Oh Alexander! I've been such a fool! Of course I'll marry you!"

He attempted to get up, but crumpled into a fetal position, groaning with pain. I waited for him to get his act together, and finally after ten minutes he struggled to stand before me. I giddily threw my arms around his neck, sending seething pain rippling through his entire frame. He cried out in agony, especially after I insisted he carry me home to his castle. We made it two steps before he collapsed and let out a disturbing, unidentifiable sound when my body landed on top of his, crushing two ribs. Thoroughly annoyed, but still madly in love, I called for a taxi, dragged his worthless ass into the car, and we sped off towards "our" home. He finally regained consciousness after the cabdriver helped me dump him on his front steps.
He managed to squeak out, "Darling, please stop kicking me there. I'm awake now."

Pleased my "helping" had done the trick, I picked up my cellphone and proceeded with wedding plans at once. In the mean time, Lucard's sad excuses for zombies had collected his tattered body and hauled it indoors, depositing on the kitchen table where it would be well out of the way. When he could walk again he made his way to the Great Hall, where servants, caterers, decorators, and flowererers were already well on task, all the while I was directing and demanding away.

"Alexander!" I squealed with glee as I rushed to his arms. Stopping me before I could full-body tackle him, he instead gently kissed my forehead.

"It looks lovely my dear. When is this blessed event to occur?"

"Two hours. You're going to stop limping by then, aren't you? It isn't sexy at all."

"I'll certainly do my best, my love. Who's coming?"

"Well, everyone I've ever met for my side, including my mother who hates Europeans. I had a bit more difficult time with yours though. However, someone named Gustav something-or-other helped me a great deal. He was just hanging around outside your place, so I assumed he must be a good friend of yours. He's your Best Man, by the way."

"Uh..."

"He was so pleased to be asked, too Alexander! He got very excited and ran home and returned with his whole adorable family, along with bags and bags of what he said would make the "perfect wedding gift for you." Wasn't that sweet?"

"Uh, Anna...."

"He also told me to make sure to invite your good friends, Nosferatu, Dr. Cross, and your coworker, Klaus."

"DAMMIT!"

"Don't swear in front of the priest, Alexander. Oh, and speaking of which, the priest here had a few more priests come by and exorcise the place. They said it was just riddled with evil things."

"AHHHHHHHHGGGGGG!!!!"

"Oh, for heaven's sake Alexander, you needn't be so melodramatic about everything. And take that silly stake away from your chest, you're not getting out of this wedding that easily. Besides, you could put someone's eye out with that. Now give it to me. Alexander, give me the stake. Give it to me. Now. GIVE IT TO ME!"

*POOF*

"Well darn.... OK then everyone, party's over. Get out."

And so ended my destiny with my love, my dream, my hottest-ever creature of the night. I shall never forget him for as long as another man never walks in front of m--oh hey there....

"Hey Klaus! Over here!!"

THE END.

Would You Like Some Whine With That Cheese?

I finally bit the bullet and started reading Twilight. Why? Because my firend, Stephanie, (Dora Cake Stephanie, not Twilight Stephenie, just to clarify) had a gun to my head. She's a jerk like that.

Anyway, here are my impressions 400-odd pages in. It's a good, quick read and entertains as promised. Oh, and for all those who have yet to read it and don't appreciate spoilers, I would stop reading at this point. For those who gave up because it was cheesy, not scary enough, just not their style, or who found themselves not reading it and not reading anything else because they wanted to finish it first, by all means continue to read here because I'll make all of your wildest wishes of spoilers come true.

Back to my impressions. Going into this I knew it would be cheesy on some level. I've heard nothing but about this book. That's cool, I'm fine with that as long as I'm forewarned. I was not disappointed in either regard. I really didn't mind terribly as it didn't seem too over the top and what was there was to be expected in a book with teenaged girls as its primary audience. I'd heard that one of readers' biggest complaints is Meyer's over indulgence in adjectives, particularly with regard to Edward's appearance. I found that to be right on the mark. First, how many times can you say a guy is perfectly gorgeous? Second, how many times is it really necessary to point that out in one book? In every other sentence seems a tad superfluous in my mind. He's a vampire, he hasn't suddenly turned fugly between the last time he was gorgeous to ten minutes after that. If he's suddenly ugly, by all means let us know, but until then we'll just assume that nothing has changed in that category. And third (you're welcome, you nerds), "gorgeous" and "perfect" and "inexplicably godlike" are all very subjective. Is it just possible that Edward is only perfectly beautiful and Adonis-like to everyone who's seen him SO FAR? Yeah, that's what I thought.

I appreciated that the romance was fairly slow in building. Romances that take off like a rocket are unreasonable and unrealistic. Plus, it builds the sexual tension needed in a good romance plot. By the time it really got over the top, I merely smiled and chuckled rather than puked on the book. So again, good on her for delivering the goods as well as could be expected.

What I did not appreciate, which is the point in the story I am in the middle of reading, is the sudden and painful onset of stupidity of our heroine, Bella. James, the tracker, has just kidnapped her mother, threatened to devour her if Bella doesn't ditch the protection of the Cullen Clan and come to him alone so he can kill her too, and she agrees to do it. She agreed to leave the safety and assistance of five good vampires who would risk undeath (ha! I kill me) and limb to protect her and her relatives from any harm to be a martyr. This is like a plot straight out of a bad 80s horror film. Does she not think James will still murder her mother even after she willingly gives herself over to him? Why didn't she immediately turn around and tell the two jerks who were there protecting her, and the three more who were on their way at top speed to be there with her, that James had her mom and possibly wasn't there anything they, with their combined centuries of experience, knowledge, and superhuman intelligence and abilities, could do to rectify the situation? That is what a normal, thinking person would do. But not this brain surgeon! No sir. Gotta get herself AND her mother killed, but not before writing a tearful letter of regret to her one and only love, begging him to forgive her for suddenly becoming retarded. Yeah. That's gonna happen. I hope they all take turns slapping the crap out of her (which might crush her skull, if Edward is to be believed, and she would totally have that coming).

By the by, I don't trust Rosalie for obvious reasons, which are not aided by the fact that this is a terribly predictable book. She either dimes Bella out or they wind up totally BFF! by the end of the novel. But more than her, I don't trust Alice. Wasn't it Alice who said it would be perfectly safe for Bella to join the game and practically insisted she come? Didn't she also insist on babysitting Bella once The Drama started? And isn't she just a little too anxious to be buddies with Bella? And is she not also the mystery woman with no memory of her past or who made her? Yeah, that's what I thought. If she doesn't turn in this book, mark my words she'll be the villian by book #15.

Final note. I cannot fathom dating something you simply cannot resist eating. I can only equate his predicament to my falling in love with a Duncan Donuts-brand Boston Kream donut. Even if my true love could actually carry on a meaningful conversation with me, which would be creepy at best, I don't think I could love him more outside my stomach than in. His chocolatey scent would overwhelm me and I would have to end his pitiful life. So Huge Props to Edward for keeping his true love in tact! That is, long enough for her to get herself et up by some other fool. We'll see how that turns out for her.