Five Twilight Things that Twerrify Me

It's been a rough week in the TwiUniverse. So many different stimuli comin' at me from so many different directions...blah blah blah....BREAK UP SCENE...blah..blah...blah...KISS ME clip....blah blah blah...Jaylorlbait on the SCREAM Awards...and what was nearly my undoing...The Pretty One's Vanity Fair spread. It's like being shoved up against a brick wall and kissed roughly every single day without the follow through.

So, to lighten the mood a bit and take my mind off of the fact that in just 20 days, we will all finally have our well-deserved climax, I've decided to share with you five of the most disturbing, frightening things about the Twilight franchise.

5) Catherine Hardwicke

Need I say more? If you're not convinced, watch your Twilight DvD with the Director's Commentary turned on. Listen carefully during the "Gazebo Scene / Neck Kiss". THAT, my friends, is scary shit.

4) Screaming, Rabid, Twihards

For me, an ear-splitting throng of tween fangirls who a) still wear "days of the week" underwear, b) are labile enough to mention Miley Cyrus in the same breath as Kristen Stewart and, c) are missing an orthodontist appointment to attend the New Moon Mall Tour are truly and absolutely horrifying.

3) Pattinson Panties

You'd be hard pressed to identify a less controversial, less debated piece of Twi-merch. Since the gals at Twitarded revealed their Edwarundies earlier this week, there's been a shitstorm of commentary, ranging from "revolting" and "tactless" to "the most epic undergarments ever made" and "where-the-hell-can-I-get-me-a-pair-uh-them-thur-drawers?" Personally, I find them amusing. I'd love to have a pair but I could never chance wearing them because no way could I resist the ovepowering urge to run my fingers through The Pretty One's hair at every opportunity, therefore making me look like the ultimate Master(bater). I suppose what's so frightening is that for one one-hundredth of one second, I imagined RPatz's face enveloping my girl junk. ***shivers***

2) Truly Tragic Photo Manips

The stars of the Twilight saga movies are without question, the most photographed celebrities on the planet right now. This means that floating in cyberspace are thousands upon thousands of digital images that, in the hands of haphazard amateurs (see #4) who took one 6-week course in Photoshop, relentlessly torture the rest of us with the likes of this:

KStew looks like effin' E.T the Extraterrestrial with that neck. It's just a hundred shades of spine-chilling scary. Please...for the love of all that is sacred...back away from the computer and go back to tweeting your besties with your pink cell phone.

Really? Really? The idea that Edward and Bella would be pacifist, peace-loving tree huggers gives me the serious ba-heebie, ja-heebies. I mean, he yanked a damn tree out of the ground once and he regularly sucks the lifeblood from mountain lions. Are you people reading the same books as the rest of the world?

And then there's this one....so disturbing that I had to have a partial labotomy to prevent it from crossing over to my long-term memory and searing itself into my grey matter for all of eternity.

This is absolutely the apex of the anti-hot. When I first saw it, my chick bits dried up like the Sahara Desert. I mean, these look like the very unsexy carpenter cut jeans and it even looks like he's still wearing socks. EWWWWWW. I just threw up in my mouth a little.

1) Twilight Overdose

There's just TOO much Twilight. Everywhere. Rampant Overexposure. I mean I'm even assaulted at the grocery checkout:

***cough***theseareminebutIamloathetoadmitit***cough***

Then there's fanfiction, a myriad of Twilight fansites and Social Networks, Twilight YouTube channels, more Twilight blogs than you can ever read, Twilight Tweeting, hell....I hear there are even people naming their pets after Twilight characters and...err...uhhhh....

Ummmmm........

Shit.

This is my boxer puppy, Bella.

(Hangs head.)

Double My Pleasure?

I was asked via Twitter today, if I planned to see the Twilight/New Moon "double feature" on opening night 11/20. I had to read and reread that request about ten times before I fully understood it, because frankly, it never occurred to me that Summit Entertainment would be ballsy enough to play the two back-to-back to the very same audience.

Now, I loved liked Twilight. I really did. It was a good* movie...a relatively decent adaptation of a book that I love and have read cover to cover at least half a dozen times. (*disclaimer - minus the meadow scene and the "spider monkey" line - which I just retyped about 20 times because even my fingers refuse to believe that ridiculous drivel made it into the movie).

And frankly, when the big screen is constantly inhabited by the blinding prettiness of RPatz

or KLutz,

they could be monologuing from the damn Webster's Dictionary and I couldn't have cared less.

But, alas...Twilight is a "hot dog" movie.

Hot dogs can be very good. Add a little ketchup, some thinly sliced red onion, toast the bun with butter and you've got yourself a tasty little treat. You can probably eat more than one per meal, too. (Which explains why, on multiple occasions, I have watched it twice in one sitting.)

Now...New Moon?

Summit has been teasingly naughty enough to post various scenes and trailers all over the internet - including a seriously badass looking Paul-to-Wolf transformation yesterday, and just today, part of the fight scene in the Volturi chambers that literally had me stuttering, trembling and losing bladder control. From what little I have already seen, it's apparent that New Moon is going to be a big, fat, juicy Filet Mignon. Please God...let it be big and fat. And juicy. Please...juicy.

So...in response to the "Double Feature" question, my answer is unequivocally, HELL TO THE NO.

I can already tell that watching the two back-to-back will magnify the painfully apparent flaws in Twilight, and damn it...I just wanna enjoy my hot dog without guilt or shame, even if I do fast forward every time Edward throws Bella onto his back for that ridiculous trip "up the mountain, out of the cloud bank".

I like hot dogs.

I LOVE steaks.

But the two should never occupy the same plate.

EVER, you say?

No, not at all. (Cute sideways smile - an ode to Edward's bedroom scene.)

It's just not fair to the hot dog.

An EPIC F.M.L.

Just had to share with my fellow "mature" Twihards.....

So I'm sittin' at my desk this afternoon in my cushy corner office just typin' away and doing really important, indispensable work. Because I am basically irreplaceable like that. (Yeah, I had my Facebook, FFFW, and FanFiction.net minimized...you wanna make something of it?!?)

A clueless co-worker of mine who thinks Twilight is a sin against God sauntered in and asked me to take some pics off of her digital camera. She's leanin' over my shoulder makin' idle, mindless chit-chat, when she spies my PC wallpaper, which is this:

And then she says to me, 100% SERIOUSLY...."Are those your kids?"

I did not respond for a full 39.276 seconds. I think drool started to drip from my mouth because it was hanging open in sheer disbelief.

FFFF. MMMM. LLLLL.

HARDCORE FML.

I just said "yes, yes they are."

To which she responded..."Nice lookin boy!"

Good Lord.

Yeah, he's my Edward

I am one lucky, lucky girl.

I'm talkin' hit-the-Mega-Millions-Jackpot-of-life-partners for the last 22.5 years lucky.

Yeah, yeah....you think you're lucky too, right?

So your spouse picks up his dirty underwear once in a while and mows the lawn. Heck, he took you to an expensive restaurant and endured a chick flick for your anniversary. He even held your hair out of the way once or twice when you had morning sickness.

Sure. You're lucky.

But not as lucky as I am.

And here's why:

Last year, my daughter and I threw an EPIC Twilight DvD Release Party.


Hubby was fully aware that our house would be invaded by Twihards, that we would likely be heavily under the influence of our

"Isle Esme Punch"

for most of the evening and swooning over other men. Still, he took one for the team and waited on us hand and foot all night, bringing drinks and cleaning up our

mushroom ravioli dinner

while we played TwiTrivia and descended into Twilight induced stupors.

And then he held my hair out of the way for me.

And that's just the tip of the Twiceberg.

I came home from work once to find this:


on my dresser.

If you don't know what it is, do us all a favor and go back to Twischool.

Did I mention that when he bought it, it was pine green and he painstakingly taped off the tires, windows, tiny little lights, etc. and painted it yellow for me?

The man is an angel I tell you. Sent to me straight from heaven.

And that's not all.

He didn't bat a single eyelash when I told him that I booked myself and my daughter on the Twilight Fans Cruise, to the tune of $3000. Instead, he shrugged and said "Can I come along?" to which I kissed him madly, said "HELL YES" and then informed my daughter that she had better find a friend on the cruise because daddy and I would be requiring privacy in our stateroom quite often.

You want more? Can you handle more?

Okay, you asked for it.

When I came home from a jewelry party wearing this custom made bracelet:


He held my wrist up to examine it and said, "Babe...we need to get you a wolf charm." I wanted to spread him on a cracker and eat him.

One day, he came home from buying work shoes for himself with a present for me. It was not a dozen roses, or a box of chocolates, or even pair of cubic zirconia earrings. It was this:


Enough said.

In fact, just yesterday, my angel was sitting on the couch and I was in my chair. We were just chatting about our pre-gaming plans for the night of the New Moon Midnight Premiere when he looked at the bookshelf behind me, squinting and wrinkling his nose.



So, having been properly baited, I said, "What is it honey?" To which he replies, "Hmmm. Your Twilight books. They're out of order."

Yes, my man knows the order of the books, because he has read them cover to cover twice.

He gets up from the couch and approaches the bookshelf, and does this.


"There, that's better." he says.

We almost didn't make it to the bedroom.

And then this morning I'm at the sink cleaning up after breakfast when he approaches me from behind, all smelling good from the shower which in and of itself is enough, if you know what I mean. But then, I feel him pull my hair away from my neck and his warm breath on the back of my ear. And then, he says this:

"Hold very still."

(A heavenly pause during which I literally cannot move.)

"Don't move," he whispered in my ear.

And I bet you can probably guess what happened after that.

Like I said, I'm a lucky, lucky girl.

Are you lucky too? If so...tell me about it. Because hubs reads my blog and although he does pretty well on his own, new ideas are always welcome!

Premature EJakeulation

Okay....it's honesty time.

Who among you has the C.O. Jones to admit that you find Taylor Lautner just a tiny bit attractive, despite being old enough to be his mother?

Well not me. Not now. Not ever.

In fact, I find the kid downright repulsive. Skinny. Revolting. Not the least bit endearing or cute. I mean, somebody obviously beat this boy senseless with the ugly stick, right?

Evidence? You want evidence? Okay...I've got evidence.



Ummmm....eeerrr....well, maybe that's not the best example.

But trust me, Taylor is repugnant....ahem...in a "Mama's playin' opposite-day" kinda way.

The kid is just hideous and frankly, I just don't see what all the fuss is about.



I mean...what self-respecting grown woman would admit that she gets just a tiny bit breathless everytime she sees little Mr. Sharkboy shirtless?

It's sick. That's what it is. You should all be ashamed of yourselves.

It's just all kinds of registered sex-offender wrong.

At least until the kid is legal.

Which is in exactly:



Until then, I just keep repeating "Jailbait....jailbait...jailbait" to myself.

And I'd advise you all to do the same.

Moving along....

See below for video evidence that I'm just not right in the head.



And I'm including all three of my actual blog followers in my contest - if you leave me the most creative comment, I'll send you the prize. Contest ends whenever I feel like it. Void where prohibited. See inside my head for details. Wait...on second thought....bad idea.

Crap. They're on to me.

"I've never wanted a movie....so much...in my life."

I swore, I would not, under any circumstances, until the very deepest recesses of hell froze over...go to the midnight premiere of New Moon. I am far too in love with the Saga to share it with the following people, who I am 100% positive will ruin my virgin New Moon experience:

• The three drunk thirty-somethings who will show up in the middle of the previews with fake bite-marks that the one with the muffin top drew on their necks with eyeliner pencil while they ate sushi, drank Cosmos and sent sexy texts to their doctor husbands

• The "cool mom" who dresses like a college co-ed in her pink Victoria's Secret sweats that will allow her 8-year-old (and her 8-year-old's BFF) to sit right in front of me and bounce up and down...giggling through the entire movie while they debate aloud whether RPatz is cuter than Zac Effron and then wonder aloud how jealous their friend Kylie will be at school tomorrow

• The horde of a dozen or more brace-faced tweenagers wearing their "Team Edward" t-shirts from Hot Topic with hi-top Converse and mini-skirts that were previously hidden in their coat sleeves, but they changed into them in the theater bathroom after their moms dropped them off

• The two skinny goth chics who show up with their gay male friend and proceed to whine and criticize through the entire movie that Stephenie Meyer's "vampire mythology" is SO WRONG and TrueBlood is so much more accurate and they're only here because of "Chad's" sick man crush on Taylor Lautner, blah...blah...blah. (PS - I like "Chad" - it's the girls I want to bi*&@ slap.)

I am serious as a cardiac arrest when I tell you that I considered approaching my local theater owner to see if they'd be willing to reserve one theater for 25+ viewers only...and then I remembered that the drunk thirty-somethings would still be able to annoy the crap out of me.

So, I made a plan. I was going to medicate myself with several bottles of Moscato, stay under the covers in bed listening to the New Moon soundtrack and reading Fan Fiction the entire weekend.

Then, (since I fortuitously scheduled my last week of vacation for the week after the premiere) on Monday, I would move into the theater for the remainder of the week, kinda like Tom Hanks in "The Terminal". You know...washing up in the theatre bathroom, making a complete meal from popcorn, Butterfingers and Ju-Ju Bees and catching naps in that mysterious area under the movie screens where the curtains would provide a perfect camoflauge.

It was a genius plan, really.

And then, these images surfaced and swiftly took control of all the executive functions of my brain:

Damn you Edward and your signature "hand in the hair" kiss that weakens my knees and clouds my ability to be rational.

Are you serious Charlie? Come on! You sit on her bed to console her in lieu of an awkward offer of pepper spray? Well aint this just craptastic. I'm falling. HARD.

What's that sound? Yep...that's what I thought. It's my resolve crumbling like a wrought iron headboard in Edward's fist. I can almost smell "Chad's" Abercrombie cologne now.

And then, the final nail in my coffin...

Chris Weitz, you are the devil incarnate. You just had to highlight the happy trail, didn't you? Well screw you and your manipulative, cinematic genius that results in a raging fire in the loins of millions of women.

I'm just sayin'.

Needless to say, off to Fandango.com I went, in a picgasm induced trance, where I bought 4 midnight premiere tickets and then ducked underneath my computer desk where I sucked my thumb and rifled through my purse searching for my therapist's phone number.

So, I guess I'll see you all at 12:01 a.m. on 11/20. And then again at various showtimes from 11/21 until either the theatrical run expires or the DvD is released...which for the sake of my mental health cannot be more than 30 days apart. I have a doctor's note.

Please Scummit.

Please.

It's the least you can do for making me feel like your puppet.

Tempting, Tasty Twilight

I've said it before, and I stand by my assertion that Catherine Hardwicke made some monumental mistakes in the adaptation of the Twilight book to the big screen...the most notable being the awkward and unsatisfying meadow scene that robbed us of the intimacy Stephenie wrote about in her book.

Even typing about it almost a year later, I can feel the void...the desperate longing clawing at my insides. It's the same empty feeling I get when I realize the pimply-faced kid at Mickey D's forgot the extra tartar sauce on my Filet O' Fish. At times like these, I clutch my dog-eared paperback to my chest and re-read the meadow chapter so that I can have my "satisfaction".

Or...I look at this photo.

There...that's better.

That having been said, Catherine's casting was nothing short of genius. Every single cast member brings a unique brand of beauty to the movie, and there's something for everyone. The Cullen boys are the perfect example. Each one has their own flavor, and heck if there aren't days when I just want a smorgasbord. Hitch me up to the buffet girls...Mama's hungry and here's what's on the menu!

Jackson....Jaxson....Jax. Ladies...Jackson is my appetizer. His creamy, flawless complexion and riveting eyes just really whet a girl's whistle if you know what I mean.

Peter is a fresh, healthy, tossed salad slathered in rich, delicious dressing. So many textures, sinfully yummy and yet so good for you. Feel free to eat all the salad you want with none of the guilt!

How could Kellan be anything but a thick, juicy, delectable piece of man-steak? I mean seriously...don'tcha just wanna carve that up, sink your teeth into it and feel it melt in your mouth? Just hearing his name uttered causes me to salivate like a Pavlovian dog.

And then there's the mouthwatering, luscious dessert that is Robert. Sweet and sinful...and you know you shouldn't have it, but it's just too alluring and irresistable to pass up. So you eat it; indulging yourself as your eyes roll back in your head at the sheer ecstasy when the ambrosia bathes your tongue and tastebuds in culinary rapture.

Thank you, Chef Hardwick, your menu was impeccable. The ambience was tolerable and the service could have been better. But the meal was mind-blowingly scrumptous.

What's your pleasure? Are you a salad lover? A snacker that could make an entire meal from the appetizer? A meat & taters kinda gal? Or are you one of those who skips the meal and goes straight for the dessert cart? Me? I'm an equal opportunity glutton and I want a ten course meal.

Next up? I'm critiquing the food at Chez Weitz. I've heard its much more upscale. My plan is to slip the Maitre'd a $20 for a table by the fire and cleanse my palate between courses with a nice glass of Alex Meraz...ahem....sorry.....Shiraz.