Wednesday, March 31, 2010

Of all the vampires in all the books in all the saga, she had to pick THIS one: Bree.

WTF, Stephenie Meyer?!?

Yesterday-or-so [-ish], THIS burst into the Twilight fandom -

Fine - Stephenie Meyer can write whatever she wants... Or publish whatever she wants, regardless of whenever she wrote it... That said, BREE TANNER?! Why?! Of all the story lines you could have chosen to follow, you pick... Bree Who-Even-Knew-She-Had-A-Last-Name-Tanner?! WHYYYYYYY???? This is akin to the insult I feel when when "Lost" spends an entire episode on some random fucking character that they had no right introducing when there are already thirty seven story lines (and even more characters) plus several functioning time-space-continuums and only seven muther-humping episodes left and I want some FREAKING ANSWERS ALREADY!!!

Really - there are a lot of stories in the Twilight Saga that we all are dying to see unfold (or have read countless fanfics about), and I think i can speak for 99.999% of us when I say that I never had the thought "I wish I knew more about that newborn what's-her-name who might have made a good Cullen/vegetarian vampire but we'll never know oh well..." cross my mind. Nope - not once. We want to know more about Alice's story. About Esme. Carlisle. Jasper and the vampire wars. [JJ's note - LEAH!! What the fuck happens to Leah??!!] Hell, I'd even read more of Rosalie's story, and I think that one was pretty well-covered. And did I miss the part in the books where Emmett's back-story was given? Because all I know it that he was totally bear chow when Rosalie found him and then she hauled his Abercrombie-model-attractive almost-corpse 100 miles back to Carlisle to make Edward jealous save her vampy soul mate. And this is as good a time as any to say that the other day I was watching a Discovery Channel show and there was a bear just coming out of hibernation with its cubs and the narrator was saying how it was vulnerable and weak and hadn't eaten in months and all I could think of was "Wow - I guess Stephenie Meyer doesn't watch the Discovery Channel because now Emmett seems like kind of an a-hole for eating just-woken-up grizzly..."

Bear: OMFG I am SO hungry and I had better eat so my cubs can nurse HOLY CRAP WTF IS THAT?!
Emmett: NOM-NOM-NOM!!!

How about the history of the Volturi? Jane? Alec? The Denali clan? Peter and Charlotte? Maybe any one of the nomads who come to bear witness in Breaking Dawn? Seriously, I would take an entire 500-page book devoted to Garrett before I would graciously open my Twilighty arms to the story of Bree. Mostly because I think Garrett is probably totally hot in a Hugh-Jackman-Wolverine kinda way (not entirely my type but certainly a gazillion times more intriguing than an adolescent girl - just sayin').

P.S. I was well into my rant before doing any actual cursory research and discovering that 1) this novella - The Short Second Life of Bree Tanner - will be available at as a free download the first month of its release - June 7th thru July 5th (bring on the server crashes!) because it was too big to add to the Eclipse movie companion and she decided to give it to her fans for free as a gift [did I mention I am a jerk?] and 2) if you DO buy the print copy to add to your collection, Stephenie Meyer will donate $1 to the Red Cross but since none of that really makes any difference to my main gripe with the release of this short story, fuck it, I decided to soldiered on. What can I say - Stephenie Meyer is much nicer than I will ever be (in case there was any doubt in anyone's mind). Now that I read the full details on the novella (and you can read it HERE at Stephenie Meyer's site if you haven't already), I am kind of intrigued. I admit it. I am not sure how this child vampire will have much of a story to tell, and I don't think I will read it prior to seeing Eclipse for the first time (does that count as a potential spoiler? I don't even know any more...), but I'll definitely read it.


Tuesday, March 30, 2010

Hold Up. What REALLY Happens After Breaking Dawn??

Here at Twitarded, I feel like sometimes Snarkier Than You and I play a little game called Good Blogger/Bad Blogger... guess which one I usually end up being??? In that vein, I'm following up her warm & fuzzy feeling-inducing "ode to the joys of young love" post with something I do best: ragging on Breaking Dawn. But we poke because we love... promise.

I know I'm not the only one who often finds themselves laying in bed as their mind whirls willy-nilly over a barrage of random topics in the middle of the night. I'm sure most people lie awake at night worrying about the economy or terrorism or maybe even the state of the schools or something equally important.

I wonder if Robert Pattinson's wang leans to the left or the right...

The things that keep me up at night aren't exactly as... important mundane as the deficit, however. The thoughts that cross my mind tend to be a little more, well, abstract, I guess. I tend to ponder the pros and cons of alien abduction, for example, or what course of action I would take to keep an irate Jackalope from eating my face off. Hey, you never know when you might come to face to face with a big-ass Jackalope --it's good to have a game plan.

I'm totally going to pull the Five Point Exploding Heart maneuver on this fucker...

But mostly I think about Twilight-y stuff.

It is my life now, after all.

And that's why I recently found myself wide awake at three in the morning, staring at the ghastly floral wallpaper in my bedroom which, thanks to Twilight and this blog, I will probably never ever get around to tearing down. And somehow this made me think of Breaking Dawn or, more specifically, what really happened after Breaking Dawn.

I want to break your face...

Now, this might have been covered in the actual book and there is always a possibility that I somehow overlooked this since I was pretty much consumed by an indignant rage the entire time I was reading it but seriously... what the fuck happens afterward?

Here's my basic summary of Breaking Dawn - Bella and Edward get married -- she and Jacob whine. She gets knocked up -- Edward and Jacob whine. She has the baby, dies, becomes a vampire and Jacob imprints on the stupid kid -- Bella whines. Then the Volturi start whining and show up with all this over-the-top Liberace-esque fanfare and there is the most useless non-fight EVER and everyone kind of stands around whining at each other. Then it's over and everything is all sparkly-this and lovey-dovey-that and poor Leah is left to whine all by her lonesome.

Yay! Life is so peachy keen, sparkly and perfect I don't even care I'm wearing this douchy get-up...

But here's the thing--they stay in Forks.

I do remember Charlie getting a little whiny himself at one point in this book when he thinks that Bella and the Cullens are going to take that freaky kid Nessie away from him so they kind of agree to stay.

There are some glaring issues with this--I'm going to skip the most obvious one, which is they don't age. What, are they going to pretend to be the younger siblings of the Cullens and re-enroll in high school? I know people are, in general, astonishingly stupid and oblivious but even the biggest space cadet will see right through that one.

No, no, no! Jasper, Alice, Emmett, Rosalie and Edward were our grandparents. We're Clasper, Falice, Gemmett, Bitchface and Edwort... sheesh.

But here are a few other "problems" I came up with while lying there, listening with a good deal of envy (and a bit of repressed rage) as ML snored blissfully next to me.

Isn’t everyone going to notice that Bella is suddenly all femme fatale and sparkly and shit? I mean, one minute she's all mousy, clumsy, and plain and then she marries Edward, disappears for a few months, and then reappears all drop dead gorgeous, agile as a ninja and, well, sparkly. I suppose they could blame it on love or a really good shag but I don't care who or what Edward is: no sex is THAT good. And I hardly think that they can attribute the sparkly-ness to motherhood either.

Or are they going to just lurk around in their fancy shmancy house until Renesmee grows up enough to knock boots with Jake?

You know what? I'm not even going there. All I know is if I was Jake or Renesmee and my old man could read my thoughts I'd be thinking la-la-la-la-la-la all the time or I'd move the fuck out of there. Especially when they start doing that thing that I don't want to think about. Could you imagine if Jacob stops by for a visit and he's thinking about the cock-rockin' night he had with Nessie the night before? While Edward is standing there?

Jacob - "Hey Bella, hey Edward, what's up? Nessie's at school so I just thought I'd stop by." Man, she was AWESOME last night. I can't believe she wanted to lick my--

Edward - [Runs over, rips Jake's head off and eats it]

Bye, bye Jacob.

Speaking of Jacob, if the vamps stick around town then that means that Jake and his wolf buddies will still change into wolves. While I'm sure they can keep the whole holy-shit-I-just-EXPLODED-into-a-giant-wolf-the-size-of-a-horse thing a secret for a little while, eventually they'll get careless and slip up. I mean, Sam might be a total goody-two-shoes but I can totally imagine Paul getting drunk at some local dive bar, turning into a wolf and ripping someone to shreds because the guy asked for a bar napkin or something.

Step AWAY from the bar nuts, mother fucker!!!

But holy shit would that be an awesome party trick. The wolf-changing part, not the mutilating innocent bystanders part. Not that Jacob would need it since he's in love with a baby, even if she's growing up all super duper fast.

Which brings me to my next question - Renesmee's rapid aging. How is Charlie going to explain that one over the water cooler? I mean, I know little girls are getting their periods earlier and earlier but what the hell is he going to tell people when his granddaughter decides to get married at, like, seven years old. Oh hai, creepy.

Any caption I could possibly put here would be so fucking wrong I even offended myself.

I know, I know. It's a saga about vampires--if I can suspend reality when it comes to the main characters of the story, why don't I just shut up and let it go, right?

I could, I suppose. But then what on earth would I think about when I'm wide awake in the middle of the night?

P.S. I know there is some spastic-tainted vomitsqueezer out there who is going to think that I am legitimately concerned about these... scenarios. If that's you, email me. I have a bridge in Brooklyn I need to get off my hands.

Monday, March 29, 2010

I Love You, Twilight Meadow.

No need to explain why I love THIS movie scene...

Last week when I was asked by Poptart what my favorite scene in the Twilight book or movie is, I answered that it was the "reveal" scene in the movie. I am a HUGE sucker for that whole "Say it. Out loud." thing. Every time I watch the movie (which is frequently - I'll admit it), I find myself rewinding that scene and watching it a second time. Or maybe a third. In slow motion. Because I am a dork like that (or possibly unbalanced... wtf is wrong with all of us???). Anyway, I was pretty comfortable with my answer until I came across "the meadow" chapters in the book recently. It's been a little while since I have read this part, but I have gotten into the habit of lulling myself off to sleep by reading a few pages of Twilight. It's familiar territory and helps me to relax (my brain doesn't really have an "off" switch). Or maybe it's just part of my efforts--in vain thus far--to have very Twilighty dreams. I'll never tell.

Say it. You watch this dvd too much.

Anyway, I stand by my choice of fave movie scene, but I have to say that the meadow chapters are my most-loved book passages. Those pages, for me, really capture the essence of why I fell head-over-heels for the whole saga in the first place. It's easy to knock Stephenie Meyer's writing, and I'll admit that we have raked her 'style' over the coals once or twice here at Twitarded. I think most of us here willing to admit that it is not great literature. There was a recent series of posts over at the NPR entertainment blog Monkey See critiquing Twilight. And I get it (the blog posts are actually pretty funny in some parts, so if you can stand someone making fun of our beloved books - and I know most of you can - check it out). They say that Edward and Bella's relationship lacks substance. That it's all fire and no heat. But I beg to differ.

Rereading this part of the novel just brings me back to that amazing rush of first love. And let's face it: teenage love wasn't always based on much more than emotion. It's also so much 'purer' and exciting (with much less baggage) than adult relationships. Jenny Jerkface wrote about an article that summed up the "young love" appeal of Twilight a few months back - you can read it here. Falling in love as a teenager is different - rightfully so - from the complexity of adult relationships. In the meadow, they get to spend time alone, and while it's not particularly racy, there is something very pure and innocent yet sensual about the way they touch each other, exploring each other's faces. This passage in particular captures the feeling -

I caressed his cheek, delicately stroked his his eyelid, the purple shadow in the hollow under his eye. I traces the shape of his perfect nose, and then, so carefully, his flawless lips. His lips parted under my hand, and I could feel his cool breath on my fingertips. I wanted to lean in, to inhale the scent of him.

I remember doing just that, at that age (ok, maybe the "cool breath" part would be a little off, but close enough). Running your fingertips over the planes of someone's cheek, caressing their eyelids, gently touching their lips. I used to doodle the profile of my then-boyfriend's face when I was bored in class, because I was fascinated by his features. It was an exhilarating part of being in love at that age, when you were just getting the first delicious tastes of the object of your desire. When Edward runs his lips along her jawline, slowly, from one ear to another, I say there is plenty of heat, thank you very much.

So do we mercilessly poke fun at the series sometimes? You betcha. But are we certain that we love these books in a semi-unhealthy way and that we wouldn't change that for the world. Except maybe a world filled with Cullens and the cool, delicious breath of vampires.

Write it. Write it down.
Your favorite passage. In the comments.

Sunday, March 28, 2010

Someone's Got a Case of the Sundays. And Mondays...

I'll come right out and say it - Sundays suck. Sunday is simply the last day before Monday, which is the day most of us have to start work. Again.

Now, I was supposed to spend this fine fucking-freezing-cold-what-the-fuck-why-is-it-STILL-cold day schlepping around doing yard work but I felt I really needed to maintain my position as laziest homeowner ever and told ML I had the shits so I could hide in the bathroom and surf the web for a while. Because if I had to choose between picking up sticks in the backyard and looking at pictures of RPattz... um, yeah. No brainer.

Sticks and stones can break my bones... but I still totally want to hump him...

Anyhoo, because Sundays tend to depress me, I decided I really needed a good fucking laugh so I went to an old stand-by that, no matter how many times I see it, still makes me hork shit out of my nose. I kinda assume that I'm not the only one who feels this way so I figured the nice thing to do was share.

I'm talking Rifftrax, baby. I can't thank Moi from Twigasm enough for introducing me to the Twilight Rifftrax because it kills me every time. Oh, and by the way - my neighbors fucking hate you because apparently you can hear me laughing and snorting next door.

Haven't seen the Twilight Rifftrax clip yet? What the fuck is wrong with you? Welp, here it is.

If I was that clever I'd be a millionaire. I'm jealous, I admit it.

Anyway, I figured since there was a Twilight Rifftrax there must be a New Moon one as well and... I'm a fucking genius.

Rifftrax, New Moon style.

Okay, I have to admit it - I totally laughed so hard I farted. I really need to stop eating so much beans...

Happy Sunday lllllaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaadies!!!

Friday, March 26, 2010

Doing My Part To Maintain Our Reputation...

I'm not talking about the "you Twitarded chicks are a bunch of dirty hoes" reputation - not this time! Nope, it's the "holy shit don't you people ever do anything on time?!" rep - although I may excuse Latchkey Wife from inclusion here since apparently she's organized and stuff and does things on time (when it doesn't involve me or Jenny Jerkface, anyway).

So it might be a tad belated, but I wanted to give a HUUUUGE shout-out to Poptarrt over at Lick My Poptart... She's been doing an entire week of "Illuminating Twilight" - asking some of her fave blogger buds to wax poetic (or not so poetic, in my case) on their most beloved components of the Twilight Saga and beyond!

OK I early? Late? What day is it? Have I entered that "other" Twilight Zone???

...and she kicked things off with in interview with yours truly (check it out HERE)! Yes, she saw first-hand what terrible procrastinators we are here and had to all but threaten to hop on a plane to come kick my ass if I didn't follow through and finish what I started weeks earlier (sorry Poptarrt!).

Next, Mrs. P from TwiBite chimed in on New Moon...

Jeanette (Robmusement) and Tina (Tina's Been Rob'd) who collaborate on Memoirs of a Robmance covered Eclipse...

and Stoney G. Pumpkin from TwiSoup dished her thoughts on Breaking Dawn...

...and there's still more to come! Stay tuned for Stan from Twi-sted Edrella to tackle the huuuuuge world of Twilight fanfic (can't wait!). Poptart did an awesome job putting this all together (despite my best attempts to thwart her) - thanks for including Twitarded!

And speaking of awesome blogs posts, I also wanted to direct your attention to an awesome review of "The Runaways" that our bloggy (and RL!) friend TJ wrote - it's an uh-maze-uh-balls piece where she really digs into the history of the band, its members, the music and look of the time, and everything else you can possibly imagine. Well done, TJ! This review is everything I wish I knew enough to post about the movie, but didn't. Go check it out (in all of it's spoiler glory) at chronicles of a fat girl named miss t.j. - you'll be glad you did!

P.S. If there is anything remarkably wonky in this post, I'm sorry. Really. But I am taking massive amounts of painkillers to deal with a fucked up dental issue that seems to be eluding diagnosis. What is the medical term for "holy effing shit it feels like someone is ripping a molar out of my mouth!!!"?? Because I have that. But that's just the kind of month I have been having. Not to end on a whine, but I will be REALLY happy to see March in my rear-view mirror - if it could go wrong this month, it did, and I think I am in multiples of threes as far as counting bad things goes. Which is why I have been absent all week! And I haven't been away from the blog for this in a freaking YEAR!! It's enough already! Hellooooooo, April! Wooot! April is almost May which is almost June which means that Eclipse is just around the corner. Bring it on, David Slade!

Thursday, March 25, 2010

Ain't Nothing Like The Real Thing, Baby!

As the resident Twitarded 'waxpert' (a title just recently bestowed upon me by Snarkier Than You), I wanted to do a little follow up to the waxy post from this past Sunday. Today, both Madame Tussaud's locations in New York and London revealed the Robert Pattinson wax figure to hoards of screaming fans. I couldn't be there because I'm far away, and I'm starting to question Jenny Jerkface's commitment to this blog because she couldn't even be bothered to get off her lazy ass and head on over to Time's Square this morning for a looksy. Work is for pussies, Jenny.

Ta-daaaaaaa! Come to mama! Oh right, you're not real and you can't walk so wait there, I'm on my way!

Um, hands off 'the precious' bitches. Don't make me come down there and open up a can of big ol' whoopass on you sluts.

I think the finished product is great. I love what they've done with his hair and the outfit is perfect... the fucking white v-neck t-shirt makes me a bit sweaty. But something just isn't right and my inability to figure it out is really starting to piss me off. So I spent an absurd amount of time this morning pouring over pictures of Waxy Pattz and comparing them to some of my favorite smirky Rob photos to try and figure out what's off.

Is it just me, or does smirky Rob look like he's up to no good? And by no good, I mean he's thinking about doing dirty things to me.

I came to the conclusion, after hours of research... it's definitely his mouth. There's just something amiss with that amazing mouth. I even went so far as taking screen caps from the ET video and compared them side by side with the real thing. (As you can tell, not much work was getting done today in my world.) Is it his lips? Is it the space between his nose and upper lip? Is it the laugh lines? Fucked if I know. Can you figure it out? For chrissakes ladies, we spend enough time staring at his mouth, we should be able to figure this out.

And also I think he eyebrows need to be a little darker. And personally, I would have liked a thicker beard. And maybe a little bulge in his britches. And maybe not the pointy shoes. And why did they need to hide the finger porn? I know, I'm a picky whore, but who cares.

Watch out O Waxy One, I'm coming for you!

Don't worry, none of the flaws in the waxy RPattz will keep me from fondling the shit out of him and determining for myself if they made him anatomically correct. I've already got some of my photo shoot poses planned. One of just us in a loving embrace that I can show off to my family. One of me kneeling in front of him (checking to make sure his zipper is working, of course!) One of me cupping his waxy balls. One of me dry humping his leg. I'm pretty sure by the time I'm finished with him, Madame Tussaud's will have pinned a lifetime ban on my whorey ass. It will be totally worth it though... now if I can just convince Mr. Latchkey that a trip into the City is a good idea, I can set my evil plan in motion.

Wednesday, March 24, 2010

Back to the Daily Twi-Bump n' Grind

Now that my liver has begrudgingly forgiven me for the amount of damage I inflicted on it and its friends, it's time to shake off the last vestiges of my awesome adventure and get back to the daily nonsense, trials and twi-bulations.

The worst thing about taking a few days off is just how far behind you are when you get back. While I was out chasing down bands, meeting new friends and getting a really awkward sunburn, my life continued to spin without me at home.

And, frankly, it's kind of depressing. There were 287 possibly unfriendly emails waiting for me when I went into work yesterday along with oodles of paperwork to sift through. I was really tempted to just take a big poop on my desk and walk out but I have a mortgage to pay so shitting on stuff probably isn't very "adult-y" (or "I want to remain employed-y", for that matter).

Oh yeah? Go suck a dick.

The house isn't in much better shape than my liver - dirty dishes are piled precariously all over the place, clothes and bags seem haphazardly flung about and I'm seriously considering doing the "inside out" with my panties because I really need to do laundry THAT bad. Also, I'm 99% positive I'm growing tools of biological warfare in both the refrigerator and Gizmo's litter box. Fuck it, I'm even eating Ramen noodles for dinner. I haven't done that shit since I was a ridiculously poor college stoner student. (The fact that I'm more horrified by eating Ramen noodles than I am about wearing dirty underwear inside out speaks volumes but I'd rather not analyze it...)

Needless to say, it's time I get back into growed-up mode and get my priorities straightened out so I can at least tackle the important stuff.

Like Twilight fan fiction, for example.

I admit it - there were more than a few moments while I was reveling at SXSW that I wondered, "did Master of the Universe update?" or "what's going on with Bella and her hockey whore?" Seriously, I have no idea how many panty-combusting sexual exploits were posted while I was gone and I really need to know this, which is why I'm sitting in a filthy house, wearing inside-out-underwear and trying to speed read through about ten fan fiction stories. This is more difficult than it sounds, especially when you're dry humping a computer chair.

It was bad enough that I have my own lengthy list of twi-smut to plow through but the other day I stumbled across a new fic over at The Perv Pack's Smut Shack (fuck me, do I love that name) and, well, they had me at "Snarlward".

Uuhuhuhuhhhhuhhhhhhhh... "melting panties" is the understatement of the year...

Breaking Trinity gets right to the nitty-gritty-down-n-dirty and simply doesn't fuck around, though there certainly seems to be a lot of fucking. Edward is possessive and aggressive - there's always something so hot about these bad-ass Edwards that makes my lady bits go all-a-tingle. And this particular character is like RPattz meets Edward meets Billy Idol - all I can think about is that fuck-hawt sneer he used to do. Yum.

Sue me. I think this guy is pretty fucking hot. Plus he does that lip thing so you know he's good with his mouth...

I know most of you ladies probably have lists far sluttier than mine but I definitely suggest you tack this one on. It's worth it. If you're looking for lots of smexy-times, a Darkward and a good dose of angst, this is the story for you.

Just don't forget to put the tarp down when you read it. Trust me on that one...

Tuesday, March 23, 2010

A Boy and His Beanie

I will admit, when I first fell unconditionally and irrevocably in love with Robert Pattinson, I was not a big fan of the black beanie. I'm not sure if it's because the evil beanie covered up that mop of unruly hair I love so much, or if I just thought it was incredibly stupid looking. I don't know. Things have happened over the past year plus that we've been in love, and well, I've accepted the beanie. I may even love it too.

As I've gone back in time to try and figure out exactly how my hatred for the beanie first began, I came across a couple of photos that will help me explain. While revisiting said photos, I realized that it wasn't the beanie I hated. There were other aspects of these photos that bothered me so much, I was taking it out on the beanie. My apologies to the beanie. I was wrong.

Exhibit #1: The brown puffy leather coat.

I need this fucking thing to meet it's death now. I hate the coat so much, I want to burn it in pile of smelly dog shit. It appears that by pairing the beanie with that monstrosity, the beanie got a bad rap.

Exhibit #2: The pits.

I've never been a fan of this picture. First of all, dude, extra deodorant if you're going to wear a light colored shirt. So that gets me to thinking... if he forgot his deodorant, maybe he forgot to wash his hair too and that dirty beanie is covering up some dirty, greasy hair. Ick.

But as time went by, I forgave RPattz for his shortcomings. I no longer give a rat's ass if he never bathes in his entire life. This does not change the fact that he could possibly be the most attractive human being on earth. And if earth's hottest inhabitant would like to wear a black beanie, I will accept it and love it. And I may even wash it for him if he asks real nice.

Exhibit #3: That fucking heavenly V Man shoot.

Fuck me, I love the beanie. This photo renders me speechless. My tongue stops working. Ok, that's a lie. It will work for things involving the precious and certain of his parts, it just stops working for forming complete sentences.

Exhibit #4: Beanie + Stoli Shirt = Wet Panties

If there's one thing I love in this crazy world, it's old, ratty, worn t-shirts. I have t-shirts that are 20 years old so I can appreciate wanting to hold onto an awesome t-shirt no matter how many holes it has. As much as I'd like to tear this t-shirt off him with my teeth, I will respect the Stoli shirt and fondle handle it with care.

Exhibit #5: Lip bitey in the beanie = win.

Does he do this on purpose? Does he see a camera and think to himself "I'm going to bite my lip in this photo - it drives the ladies mad!" I doubt it. He has no idea that all these sexy little quirky things he does totally deplete the world's panty supply.

Exhibit #6: Jaaaaaaaaaw pooooooooorn.

What? He's wearing a beanie in this picture? Sorry, I didn't notice. Too busy slowly licking that jaw. Aaaaaaand great, my computer screen is all slimed up and hmm, that didn't taste good at all.

Exhibit #7: The piece de resistance!

If you missed this little clip from the Eclipse preview on the New Moon DVD, enjoy it now (if you're anti-spoiler, I honestly don't think this will give anything away.) For some strange reason, the combination of black beanie, funny corset-like harness, shorts and black socks makes me want to lick every inch of his freshly-sweaty-from-running body!

So, there you have it. It seems that my feelings for the beanie have been on an evolutionary roller coaster. I was lost, but now I'm found. I have seen the light, and that light is a sexy black beanie. I would sell a kidney to feel that thing between my thighs. Even with all the proof I've displayed above of the beanie boners bonuses, I still think it would look best on top of a pile of his clothes on the floor next to my bed.

Do you have strong feelings for the beanie? Do you love it or hate it?

Monday, March 22, 2010

Jenny Jerkface Does SXSW - We Came. We Listened. We Drank...

Me and the mini waiting for a band to play...

I'm baaaack and boy did I miss Twiland!

Yesterday around 4:45 in the morning, I found myself standing blearily in line at the Austin Airport, questionably sober, my hands and arms spotted with stamps in various stages of fading as I clutched a bloodied boarding pass and wondered vaguely if my reeking perfume of Whiskey eau de Tobacco y Haven't-Showered-in-Days would raise any alarms with the nice security folks. There is something about being in an airport that early in the morning, running on the fumes of cheap beer, whiskey and absolutely no sleep, that reminds me of going to prison (not that I have gone, thank you very much). Or maybe I was more than a little concerned that might be my next stop.

Somehow, I managed to pass through security without a hiccup and, as I bent down to put my shoes back on, something fell out of my bra. It was the plastic tip to the hookah I had been smoking hours before while I was still partying downtown in Austin. I felt a brief moment of chagrined horror before it was whisked away by a stronger feeling of immense, debauchery-fueled, smug pride.

Edward, the hookah and my whiskey. See those little yellow things? Yeah, that was what fell out of my bra at the airport. I'm one classy bitch.

I was "trainwreck" personified, which meant that my excursion to SXSW was, in my whiskey-hazed opinion, a downright mother fucking success.


Unlike last year, I was a little more prepared this year and spent hours working on a detailed spreadsheet of all the bands I wanted to see [note from STY: you are really fucking up your train-wreck cred here, spreadsheet girl], which I promptly left in the hotel room, alongside Mini-Edward, the first day. I'm such a good girl scout. Let's put it this way - SXSW is insane. There were twelve hundred acts playing over 4 days and something like 100,000 people descend into the madness over the course of the 10-day festival. It makes Woodstock look like a fucking tea party (and not THAT tea party).

A street band and yes, you can see plaid guy's pubes. The back view was even more... interesting...

Not only is there literally live music on every street corner, roof top, bar, auditorium, field and parking lot, the beer is often free and the whiskey extremely cheap. This is both a good and bad thing. It's good because I still have a few bucks left in my bank account but it's bad because I don't tend to make stellar, responsible decisions when I've been drinking for 16 hours straight. And I'm pretty sure my liver punched me in the kidney Friday morning when I cracked open a Lone Star around 10: 30 am (SXSW is essentially the rock-n-roll equivalent of an early morning fishing trip; normal rules of socially acceptable drinking are temporarily suspended).

To make the long and short of it (whatever that means) I definitely pulled a few... bold moves, courtesy of Whiskey and Beer.

Breakfast, lunch and dinner of SXSW champions... and the lead cause of my bad decision making.

Before I launch into my Tale of Music and Twitards, let me give those of you who are thinking of venturing to Austin next year a few pieces of advice:

1) Book your hotel. Now. The hotel we were staying at was apparently located in an alternate universe of Austin and the only people who knew how to get there were Santa Claus and Scotty from Star Trek -- but he required that beam-me-up-Scotty-thingie, which is probably more expensive and harder to find then a cab in Austin, which is saying a lot because there are only 5 cabs in Austin. Be prepared to wait a looooooong time or find a hotel and ask the door guy. Or you could do what I did the last night, which was jumping out in front of a moving cab and demanding he take me back to the hotel because "I'm from New York" and then telling him repeatedly that I would know if he tried to rip us off (see: alternate universe hotel. Also, I'm an asshole).

In all honesty, this little stunt is actually Shoewhoreninja's fault. She had been telling me a story earlier about how she hailed a cab in a similar manner (or we were talking about hailing a cab in New York) and was successful so I figured I'd try it too. I almost killed myself but the bitch was right - that shizz works. Totally doing it again next year.

2) Pack layers. Weatherman says it's gonna be 80 degrees? Chances are he's a lying piece of shit. Seriously. When we were out and about on Friday, Austin was located about 30 miles from the sun, resulting in one of the most ridiculously shaped sunburns I've ever had - one breast and my armpits. Don't ask. Anyhoo, when we woke up Saturday, apparently Austin had relocated to the Arctic tundra because it was fucking f-r-e-e-z-i-n-g. Like, there was a blizzard in Dallas kind of cold.

3) Don't expect to see a lot of bands the first few times you go to SXSW. I know this sounds bizarre, since it is a music festival, but it's really very true. Ask Texas Katherine. She was awesome enough to meet up with me and my non-Twi friend, Rock Star (because let's face it - we were both partying like one) and let me drag her from place to place. More often than not we just kind of wandered around but I did break her cherry by getting her to see The Bronx with me.

The Bronx. I also had a Man Man sighting at this show and almost lost my shit. And my panties.

And speaking of the lovely, albeit potentially crazy, Texas Katherine... there was more than just a bunch of bands I was looking forward to seeing this year at SXSW.

I met some Twitards.

Edward, TK's hand and GarnetGirl waiting for Frightened Rabbit to play. Not shown - Rock Star, me and a shit ton of empty beer cups.

It was a lot of fun to meet so many awesome (and possibly insane) ladies these past few days. It's great to be able to put a face and name to the peeps I converse with on an almost daily basis.

The first few folks I met were Team 6 Pack and Shoewhoreninja. I didn't really get too much of a chance to hang with Team 6 Pack, mainly because I had to help the band get to their next set that was oh-mah-god-right-fucking-now and those lucky bitches were taking off to Dallas to see Band of Skulls and Black Rebel Motorcycle Club but I was really excited to meet up.

Me, Team 6 Pack and Shoewhoreninja...

Next on the list was the perpetual trouble maker/skittles enabler/possible serial killer with a sharp wit - Texas fucking Katherine. Those of you who follow us on Twitter have seen the epic insults she can sling at... well, pretty much anyone but definitely likes to get her digs at Latchkey Wife (not that I can blame her).

Texas Katherine and Shoewhoreninja gettin' their drink on...

I love meeting people that I correspond with online because it's always really interesting. TK is this sweet looking adorable slip of a thing -- you would never expect to hear the shit she says come out of her mouth. Likewise, Shoewhore always had an easy grin, an adorable accent, was really nice... and dropped the F-Bomb constantly. It was hysterical. I spent the most time with these two ladies (and we all know I'm using that term loosely) and really had a great time.

As much as I make fun of TK I have to give her a lot of credit. She was a super good sport about, ahem, my basic bossiness of what bands I wanted to see and is definitely a laid back individual and not the potential serial killer I thought she might turn out to be. Either that or I just didn't give her an opportunity to cut off my feet and send them home to Snarkier Than You.

I also got to spend some time with Jennamaemiller, who is a good friend of Lorabell from TwiCrackAddict. She came to not one, but three Roadside Graves show... including this one.

Lucky for her (okay, not really, poor thing) she joined us for what was probably the only real meal I ate the entire time I was in Austin. I had pictures of this but unfortunately the memory card on my camera must have gotten into my stash of whiskey and blacked out because I lost about half of my pictures from the trip. We exchanged numbers so we could meet up later but I bailed on the Bobby Long show in order to watch my favorite group ever, Man Man, only to get a text later that jennamaemiller was indeed apparently sitting near... KStew.

I didn't get to see Man Man because the crowd was fucking insane. I chose poorly. Rule #4 of SXSW - no regrets.

Me, Rock Star and her BF - showing no regrets.

The next day, aka "WTFWIISMFCIA?!" [what the fuck why is is so mother fucking cold in Austin?!") we actually had the rare opportunity to sleep for more than four hours before heading back into the city to inflict some more abuse our senses and internal organs.

I wanted to sleep in a little because this was my big meet-the-Twitards-day and I wanted to look all purty and shit but, thanks to the freakish weather, that didn't happen. What did happen, however, was that I mooned a whole lotta people in Austin because not only was it cold as a witch's tit (what does that mean, exactly?) but it was fucking insanely windy. I even sent ML a text lamenting my clothing choice and the fact that I repeatedly pulling a Marlyn Monroe but much less sexily. His response? "Hope you're wearing nice underwear."

It was like this but not remotely sexy. Or done on purpose.

I love that man sometimes.

Anyhoo, because of the shitty weather, instead of making a dazzling first impression on my first meet-up with a bunch of wonderful Twitards, I arrived Saturday night dressed in my nightie, a few sweaters and a pair of jeans because everything else I packed was a fucking sundress. Awesome.

But it didn't really matter because we still had a lot of fun. We all went to a place called Red Fez, which was fucking loud and someone tried to bump n' grind me, which was really confusing but we had our own little raised dais like the goddesses we were, so it was all good.

Shoewhoreninja, me, DancinBaroness and ShanaBanana1
[note from STY: do I get to make fun of you because you put on everything you packed and THIS was still the best boob-coverage you could muster??]

Kimberlytm chilling with sparkly Mini-Edward... kinda jealous, I have to admit.

The first folks I met there were Shanabanana1, kimberlytm and DancinBaroness who were busy doing shots of Tequila while we were waiting for our table, which made me feel a little better because, honestly, I was kinda nervous about meeting peeps and was afraid my social-tardedness was going to rear its ugly head (I'm thinking it did but that's another story). Once we settled in, our various Minis were summarily introduced while we chatted happily away.

Eventually, a few more ladies showed up, apparently having bribed a waitress with gahd-knows-what to get a ride into Austin. This may or may not be true but that's the recollection I have so I'm sticking with it. Even though it was getting kinda late, I am so glad I stuck around because I got to meet two of the funniest ladies I have ever had the pleasure of calling bitches. In a good way, natch. Those two ladies who hitched are Laxplays (aka a million other names) and agirlinthesouth.

The bitch giving me the devil horns is agirlinthesouth, Laxplays and TexasKatherine. Everyone is a damn comedian.

Not only is Laxplays a piece of work (I love a woman who says something offensive in like the first five seconds of meeting) she also got me a present. I have no other words but fuuuuuuuck yeah.

She got me a signed Bobby Long photograph. It is my first personalized signed autograph EVER.

That says "JJ you're so sexy and I want to lick your ears and toes, even if you haven't showered and smell like whiskey and dirty underwear. Love, Bobby Long".

Unfortunately, we had literally only hung out for about a half hour before RockStar and I had to jet back to the hotel and pack - our flight was leaving in a few short hours. I was really disappointed that I didn't get to spend as much time as I wanted to with all the crazy ladies but I'm thinking Fooooorks will make up for that. I'm also 99.999% positive that I have neglected to include someone into this post and for that I'm truly sorry. I'd like to blame the 300 beers, countless shots of whiskey, 3 meals that consisted of actual food (and not alcohol) and about 13 hours of sleep I got over the course of 4 days. Regardless, I do apologize.

Speaking of the hotel,when we arrived back there late Saturday night there was a bachelor party across the hall and we decided to give them the remaining box o' wine we had, since we had a flight to catch in a few hours and still had the whiskey coursing through our veins. The room was full of these hulking, gigantic buffoon-ish-but-dangerous looking drunk dudes so I kind of held the box out across the threshold of their hotel room, because getting raped wasn't on my to-do list that night. One of these terminators (who, incidentally, had a very alarming scar across his nose) started heckling me and called me Velma and tried to pet my hair. At first I laughed but then my stupid cohort, Whiskey, whispered that I was being a pussy so I told scary guy I was going to kick his ass and I meant it. Then I fled before he could try to reenact the "squeal-like-a-pig-boy" scene from Deliverance. Thank you, whiskey, for that sage advice. You dumb cock.

All in all, it was an excellent adventure. I drank, I laughed (a lot), I saw amazing bands and met even more amazing people. Thank you to everyone who came out together - I was so fucking stoked to meet you all.

Oh, and for all you locals - if you see my liver can you tell it I want it to come home? I think it's still pub-crawling down 6th Street. I'll even pay for express delivery because I kind of want it back... it is very important to me, after all...

Sunday, March 21, 2010

I Want To Kiss Those Waxy Lips Right Off!

You may find this weird, but I'm a huge fan of Madame Tussaud's Wax Museum. I spent a month in London a loooong time ago when I was 20 (wow, a really long time ago) and the Wax Museum was one of my favorite stops (right after Stonehenge which was just fucking nuts!). I spent a good part of the day wandering through the various areas of that freaking museum just amazed at how realistic this shit is. I especially loved the Chamber of Horrors but I think you already knew I was a bit demented.

Sorry, I have a thing for capital punishment.

And if I couldn't get enough of the waxy folks, I also hit the Rock Circus, another part of Madame Tussaud's featuring rock stars only. The cool thing about this place is that you put on headphones and as you walk around, the music changes to whoever you happen to be ogling at that moment. It's designed in a ramp style so you walk upwards until you reach the top where Robert Plant stands singing Stairway To Heaven. Very cool (especially for us Zeppelin fans!).

If I were a teenager in the 70's, I totally would have been a Zeppelin groupie.

More recently, I hit the Madame Tussaud's in NYC. I'm a little older, a little bolder, and of course my girlfriend and I had to get all silly and shit and have our pictures taken with a hundred different characters. It was fun to go back and look at some of the photos - and imagine my surprise when I found this one. Guess my obsession with vampires started a while ago. Although he is definitely not a VILF for sure! Yeesh, I think he wants to suck my blooooood!

I definitely don't need to see this vampire naked.

Why am I telling you the history of my wax fetish? Well... I just read that Robert Pattinson is currently being made into a wax figure that will show up in both the London and New York museums on March 25. The story (found here) says the press release "sounds suspiciously like a cover for Robsessed Tussaud employees to indulge themselves studying hundreds of photos and poring through hours of video to ensure that they capture RPattz's trademark sultry expression." Hmmm... I think I'd offer to do that for free. Come to think of it, I DO do that for free!

Dude, reinforce those lips... they're going to take a licking!

God, I really hope they get this right! From the initial photo, I'm loving the smirk. I'm totally thinking this is going to warrant a field trip to NYC because fuck me, this might be the closest I ever get to getting my picture taken with him... Or kissing him... Or dry humping the fuck out of his leg. I have a feeling that poor waxy Rob is going to get sexually abused like nobody's business. They may have to rope him off or keep him behind glass to keep all us sluts from kissing his shiny red wax lips right off. Or from stripping him naked to find out if he's anatomically correct (and hopefully well-endowed.) I know I'm going to try and sneak in for a lick or two. Depending on how intoxicated I am, maybe I'll even try and drag him into a closet and have my way with him.

Level with me whores... will you be making a Madame Tussaud's pilgrimage anytime soon? If so, what are your plans for our waxy precious? Or am I the only pathetic sicko who's excited to see if they make him sparkle?