Thursday, January 15, 2009
Twitard With a Vengence!
Hello, my name is Snarkier Than You, and I am a Twilight addict. As is the case with many an addiction, it all started innocently enough... Unless you are a complete recluse living off the grid in a vowel state somewhere, it would have been impossible to be unaware of the frenzy surrounding the movie adaptation of the book. I'll admit that I am a johnny-come-lately to this whole scene, but when I read a huge magazine feature on the film and the fans, I was intrigued. After doing a bit of trolling on the internet and discovering holy crap there are a gazillion teenage girls out there going absolutely ape-shit over this, I'll admit my curiosity was piqued. And then along came the catalyst: Jenny Jerkface emailed me to ask if I was aware of all the brouhaha. And I admitted to being maybe a tad interested and perhaps in slight danger of getting sucked in. She bought the first book, ostensibly for the purpose of figuring out how she could dumb things down enough in her own writing to pen something that would also sell 10 million copies, and because it's no fun to obsess alone, she insisted I read it, too (enabler!!).
In less than a week, I had devoured every last hokey, stereotypical word in those books. All 2,379 pages of them. I didn't read anything else, I left phone calls and emails unanswered, I was barely functional at work (if you call reading "Midnight Sun" online functional, then I was plenty functional), contemplated the potential merits and pitfalls of reading while driving, and essentially ignored anything non-Twilight-related.
I was absolutely mortified by how much I enjoyed the entire series (even the second time...). Finding out I was in good company and that there were a million other people out there with the same dirty little secret was heartening, though. Even the dude who wrote "Freakonomics" was unable to resist and made the astute observation that the series is the literary equivalent of a candy bar--and we're not talking fine Swiss chocolate here. Sometimes you don't want 80% organic cacao with crystallized ginger and saffron essence. Sometimes you just want a Twix.
To help quantify the insanity and for the sake of full disclosure, I am 40. Not house-frau/bedroom-community-living/minivan-driving/breeder-type 40, but still 4-0. I have a fantastic husband who has done an admirable job of humoring me during this difficult time and keeping his sideways glances to a minimum, and I am ok with the fact that the odds are against his being able to make me an immortal. But I haven't had such giddy, age-inappropriate, Tiger-Beat-worthy/crush-like feeling since "My So-Called Life" first aired and Jordan Catalano brooded his bad-boy way into my heart (and I was reminded how cool high school should have been but wasn't). It may not be possible for me to cover my locker with Twilight-related detritus, but I'm actively channeling my inner hormone-addled teen and riding this high for as long as it lasts (how long does it take to make three movies? a few years? about that long, then).
[Countdown widget courtesy of the nice folks at His Golden Eyes.]
Does all of this make me certifiably nuts? Absolutely! But it's been relatively harmless (I am ok with the resulting quantum leap I took on the dorkometer as well as the ensuing loss of an IQ point or two) and endlessly entertaining. Jenny and I are all but peeing ourselves every time we're being completely ridiculous and watching bad fan-made youtube clips and spoofs. So WHAT if her coworkers think she is insane because she is laughing herself to near asphyxiation on a daily basis? YOU try watching "Dimlight" in silence - it's just not possible. Or when we're trying to muffle our hysterics during scenes of the movie that are supposed to be serious (yes, that strange choking noise you heard throughout the "sparkle" scene was probably us...), donning "Team Edward" wristbands that we will never wear outside of our own company, or pondering the question of exactly how vile the Twilight-inspired perfume is likely to smell (and whether we're eventually going to shell out $48 to find out). I would be absolutely appalled by the legions of women going berserk over Twilight were it not for the fact that I am - unequivocally and without apology - one of them. Maybe someday I will seek professional help for this problem (and maybe--ahem--a few others), admit that I have lost control, turn myself over to a higher power, yadda-yadda-yadda, but for now? TWILIGHTTWILIGHTTWILIGHTSCREEEEEEEEEEEE!!!