Mama's got a brand new Den!

Yeah, I know....I know. I've been gone. Absent. Unaccounted for. MIA. AWOL.

Where have I been, you ask? It's a simple call of nature my bloggy friends. It's animal instinct, no sense in fighting it.

I am a Cougar.

It's winter.

I hate fucking winter.

What do warm blooded, forest dwelling, Twilight-obsessed mammals DO in the winter?

We Twibernate.

For the last two weeks, I've been curled up on my futon wrapped in my Edward blankie,

Wearing my new hoodie:

reading Fanfics & Twiporn and scanning the interwebz, poised to pounce on any teeny, tiny amount of Twilight related info, including but not limited to Robsten's holiday plans, New Moon box office news, Eclipse info, Justin Chon's second cousin's Korean birthday party...hell, at this point I'm scraping the bottom of the Twi-Coke bag people! This post New Moon drought has left a painful, aching void in my life and I'm desperate to fill it.

As a sort of therapy, I banished my son to a vacant basement bedroom and turned his former room into my new den. Whenever I start to feel withdrawls, I retire to my little slice of heaven on earth and listen to my scores & soundtracks on repeat:

or I watch my collection of Rob & Kristen's "other movies":

or I recruit some poor sap to play one of my Twilight games, play with my Cullen Car Collection, and in moments of total desperation, I read my magazines and Twilight books, AGAIN.

I'm even debating adding a mini-fridge for my wine and the new beer hubby bought me to try:

Hell, last night, the withdrawls were so bad, I just sat there all Bellatonic as the words "January", "February", and "March" encircled my head! You think I'm fucking kidding, right?

SO. NOT. KIDDING.

I need a distraction people, and NO, I don't want to eat pizza in my garage and rebuild two-wheeled death machines with a stacked 17-year-old.*

All I know is that this Twi-drought had better end soon, or I may resort to diving off my roof into the damn snow drifts in the hope that my brain will freeze and be cryopreserved until Spring, or at least until the Twi-crack flows freely once again.

Find me on Twitter, because Mama needs some help.

*I would however, consider ANY activity in my garage or elsewhere that includes a certain 23-year-old with facial scruff, unruly hair and delightfully nommable happy trail.