"Officer, there's a nutter in the park!" "Oh, it's a low-power vampire. They're no bother this time of year."

So, against my better judgment, I finally fucking read Twilight. It took me almost a year. Not because it was deep, or had tiny print, or contained anything even remotely intellectually stimulating, but because it was excruciating. Dear. God. In. Heaven. 500 pages of an awkward, irritating girl fawning over some asshole boy's body. This didn't deserve to be a novel; this should have been a note passed in study hall: "OMG, Edward is soooo hot!!!" The End. It's the sort of writing that would have given Mark Twain a stroke.

When she's not busy swooning, Bella takes every opportunity she can to remind us that she's so socially and physically awkward that she can't carry on a conversation or take three steps without falling over. Combine that with her complete lack of any instincts for self-preservation and it's nothing short of a complete miracle that she's survived even this long. Case in point: Edward is going to take Bella home to meet his glampire vampire family, and Bella is nervous because ZOMG, SHE DOESN'T KNOW WHAT TO WEAR! THIS IS THE MOST LOGICAL THING TO BE WORRIED ABOUT IN THIS SITUATION!

"It was hard to decide what to wear. I doubted there were any etiquette books detailing how to dress when your vampire sweetheart takes you home to meet his vampire family." (Ch. 15)

You know why? BECAUSE HE'S A FUCKING VAMPIRE! He doesn't take you home to meet his family. He takes you home to kill you by draining all the blood from your body. You should wear a steel turtleneck soaked in garlic. That is, assuming that Eerie Hymen Pest hasn't changed the mythology so that garlic just gives them the power to bounce off shit or something.

On that topic: (skip to about 3:15 for the most relevant bit)


You know what's the worst part of Twilight? He sparkles. HE FUCKING SPARKLES! Even though I knew about it before I read it, I couldn't handle it when this happened. Suspension of disbelief = OVER. I literally threw the book across the room and went to pour myself a drink.

But then, the other night, I saw this on TV and it made me feel a little bit better: Anne Rice and Craig Ferguson making fun of some unnamed glampire story. Any resemblance to other stories is, I'm sure, entirely coincidental (starts at 2:00ish):


Dear Stephenie Meyer, or possibly someone else, because we totally can't tell who they're talking about: When arguably the most successful vampire writer in history is making fun of you, you're probably not doing it right.

I promise that this is the last time I'll bitch write about Twilight, probably. You should really check out Reasoning With Vampires, though. Dana is hilarious, and gives us the sort of commentary on the series that Mark Twain might if he were still alive today. And way more crass. And proficient at image editing.

In other news, I'm two books into The Hunger Games. It's refreshing to read something, well, good. </plugs>