So Jenny Jerkface is on her way to Colorado at this very moment, ditching me again and leaving me to my own devices... Seriously, she's like my wife or something but without the sex and I miss her when she's gone. Oh, and maybe I need to get out more, because while I [heart] "staycations" and rarely wander too far from home, it's starting to feel like maybe I should go someplace, too... In her defense, JJ had amazingly good intentions of setting me up with numerous blog-ready rants to entertain you with in her absence, but while I didn't call her on it until she was completely stressed, frantically throwing stuff into a suitcase and desperately searching for her missing glass of wine (2-to-1 odds it turns up in the luggage), I suspected it wasn't gonna happen. And that it was OK. Because when you are trying to leave town for a long weekend, move, buy a house [yes, that process is ongoing because nothing is as simple as it should be], handle an ill-timed work crisis or three, AND be Twitarded, something's gotta give!
So I was sitting here, despondent, trying to convince Mr. Snarky that the time had come for him to don his blogger hat and write something incredibly witty and wondering wtf I was going to do when suddenly salvation arrived in the form of one of our own, Twitarded bff and bloggy reader "NeedsIntervention." She is also one of the winners of the "100-ish Ways Twilight Has Changed My Life" contest! Winners were selected randomly, but I still love her entry and use it frequently - she wrote "In place of 'please?' at the end of his requests, my 8-year-old son asks me, "Pretty please--with Robert Pattinson on top?'" - classic!
Apparently, thing have take a turn for the slightly-less-cute and somewhat-more-manipulative worse, according to NeedsIntervention... I'll let her explain, because frankly, her eloquent and hysterical email had me in tears (amongst other things):
Dear JJ and STY,I go to your blog everyday to be "home" with "the others." I'm a grown, middle-aged woman with two college degrees, two children, and a husband, and I can't seem to shake this obsession. Why?! Argh! And to have my own son accuse (torment?) me, the way Molly Ringwald accuses Andrew McCarthy in Pretty in Pink, "You're ashamed of me, aren't you?! Say it! You're ashamed of me! Just say it!". Even if he leaves me a "gift" and tells me that now I can look at my Edward Cullen vampire every night. [More on that in a sec...]
I’m hoping that my sharing of how I’ve been bullied lately might open the door for other Twitards to come forward to comfort one another; perhaps a therapy group might be the solution.
There are repercussions for being a Twitard: Family members can hurt the ones they love. (This is a two-part confession.)
I once was the mother of that 8-year-old boy who asked, "Pretty please--with Robert Pattinson on top?" --And the winner of a very cute embroidered Twitarded T-shirt, which by the way is fab, so thanks to Deb/Red Bella and all her talent and hard work! I have your blog emblem faces on the front and "Twitarded" embroidered on the back. She added silver thread throughout so that I can "sparkle" when I'm in the sun. I'd send you a picture of myself in it, but I'd die mortified that there is living proof of my Twitardedness. I’m deep in the closet still. I plan to wear it to watch New Moon though.
I am now a mother of a used-to-be sweet 8-year-old boy.
First, I bring this suffering upon myself by not having the self-control to suppress (oppress?) my tween-like glee over all things Rob/Twilight. This summer, however, my son has ruthlessly tormented me about my obsession. I've had to put my foot down and threaten him if he so much breathes the words "my mom," "Robert Pattinson," “Edward Cullen,” or “Twilight” in any order of arrangement together out in public . . .
But at home, it's another story. It's like I'm being blackmailed. I am being blackmailed! He makes up lyrics about Twilight and sings them tauntingly to me as I walk past him; he asks me when I plan to wear my Twitarded t-shirt out—“Are you ashamed? Are you? Well, are you!?”, he draws my face over a Time Magazine cover that has a wedding cake and tells me that the "couple" on the cake is me and Rob, he rolls his eyes and sighs with exasperation when he sees me reading one of those very, very thick black books—“Again?!?”
One night in particular, after putting my two kids to bed, I walk into my bedroom and see something small and black on the ceiling. What is it? I get closer and realize that my precious son has equated his mom’s craziness for a book and movie about vampires with a love . . . for . . . bats. Behold, my son had drawn, cut out, and taped a black bat, bloody fangs and all, to my ceiling directly above my side of the bed. In his own innocence, he equated vampire Edward Cullen with a blood-sucking bat and had left me a bedtime present. (Oh. My. Son. Loves. Me.)
But wait! There’s more.
My husband must be in cahoots with my son. One day I came home from work and opened my laptop (to read my favorite Rob/Twilight blogs) and a HUGE close-up of Rob’s face greets me. (I could count his eyelashes; it was that large and that hi-def.) After I gasp and then coyly smile back at Rob, I get angry. *growl* Had my husband gone through my Rob pictures folder on my laptop?! How dare he go rifling through my personal stuff, those are my folders, my pictures . . . my husband walks in right then and asks innocently, "Did you see the present I left you? It took me forever on Google images to find a large enough picture to fit your screen." Oh.
Again, this week, I come home and find that my husband’s “gift” on my desktop has changed. This time, it's a snarling Edward Cullen with a bubble that says, "I'm not good enough for you, NeedsIntervention." Oooh. That. does. it. I'm so pissy now. My husband walks in the room all smug and proud of his new "gift" that he left me: "Did you like my new gift?" he asks hopefully, "I searched the web for 'Edward Cullen' quotes. I'm not sure when he says it to Bella, but I thought it was perfect for you." (Oh. My. Husband. Loves. Me.)
Yesterday, I replaced my husband’s latest desktop gift with a massive picture of Grizzly-Adams Rob. I came home and asked my husband if he used my laptop. His response: “Yes, and I had no idea that Rob had such piercing eyes.”
I'm never ashamed when I read your blog. Surely, others are being tormented by their loved ones for their wacky obsession for Rob and Twilight. I suffer in silence and alone.Maybe you can have another contest: "Top 100: How Family Members/Friends Have Tormented Me About My Love for Twilight/Rob."? Did I tell you that I overheard my 4-year-old daughter tell her pretend friend, "My mom's email is 'Robert Pattinson dot com'." WTF? How does she even know what a "dot com" is?!I seriously need an intervention right now--especially since my husband just walked into the room (why is this a recurring motif in my life these days?) and said, "Hey, Colin Firth called today, and he says he misses you. You didn't even know it was his birthday today, did you? *tisk* Nothing good can come of this."
I've left the bat on my ceiling since June. It makes me smile: it's my Edward bat who watches over me.
I very nearly peed myself when I read this. OK, fine, there may have been some pee involved and my "holy crap this day sucked" super-sized cocktail may have been laid to waste by spewage (sorry, laptop screen!). But NeedsIntervention asks a question that I think needs to be asked... How has YOUR family responded to your Twilight obsession??? Better? Worse?! And if you are not out of the closet even with your nearest and dearest, how do you hide your obsession (because that's gotta take some serious effort!)???
Tell us all about it in the comments!
Tell us all about it in the comments!