As Twitarded approaches our second anniversary [!!!!!!], I have taken to doing a bit of reminiscing lately... Sometimes I have to be reminded what it was like to start this wild ride - to read Twilight for the first time, watch the movie for the first time, to see RPatts and do a double-take and say "Well helloooooo there sparkly vampire. Why yes I want to go to there please!" and to discover blogs and fanfic and the whole online world that Twilight has spawned...
As a testament to how far our ability to keep up with blog email (and most other things) has fallen, I should admit that the following email was sent to us back in October.
But there was all sorts of shit hitting all sorts of fans in that last fateful quarter of 2010, so I have granted myself amnesty and am slooooowly going back through all the stuff I missed during that time. All I can say is finding stuff like this buried amongst all of those hugely important emails about how to enlarge my penis and where I need to send my $10,000 certified check to the King of Namibia so that I can claim my $100,000,000 lottery prize makes it all worthwhile...
Take it away, Twi-Twat Rot!
Alright. That’s. Enough.
Days, weeks, months, hours have passed and until now I felt shameful for what I had become.
But once I left a comment for the first time STOP! Okay, well under several different names from several different locations, so perhaps more like my “sixth” comment, I started to realize that I was slowly coming out of the closet.
I have started to email you hexes too many times to even count. Or maybe perhaps I’m too fucked up in the head most nights after a long ass day I can’t simply count at all.
Whatever my problem is with this (and trust me there are many others) I am fucking feeling all Carpe Diem and shit after reading the blog post from last night and seeing Texas Katherine’s email again. I remember reading this before but that was back in my creeper days and this of course could NEVER have happened during those times. Me. Taking. My balls. Out of the jar and emailing you for good this time. Hell, it took me months to realize I had an addiction to Twilight at all let alone to Twitarded.
Normally my balls are proudly displayed atop my shoulders for the world to see but for some reason this whole Twi-Universe has them spending a lot of time in & out of the jar.
Well Carpe Fucking Diem!
First off. I don’t know if I hate Stephenie Meyer or if I want to hump her leg for a few hours for unleashing this madness on us all.
Secondly. I, like so many, led a simple life really (after 30+ years) before RPattz had to portray Edward Cullen and make me purchase more panties this year alone than all my adult years combined.
Seriously. He makes me want to hit that harder than Ike hit Tina.
I have no doubt that I would leave my husband or risk my marriage for a one night fuck with that man. I would have to squeegee my vag for a week if he even uttered two words to me.
Thirdly, Twitarded. Thank you for making me piss my pants in laughter, cry with you and allow me to be with those of my kind. And on a deeper note I would swear we were all friends in a former life or at least one of you is my long lost twin.
Aww, I am not alone. I am not the only middle-aged whore that feeds on 24 year old men. I love you all.
(more on my love for you later)
Fourthly. (Hmm…is that a word? Oh well, Carpe Diem bitches!) Are you fucking kidding me Myg? I want to dry (and wet) hump you for Osa Bella.
SHIT! There goes another pair of panties…
I can’t get enough of your story. It taunts me. I love it. If it were real I would screw it. But how do I make myself stop reading and thinking about it? This story did not help decrease my RPattz obsession one bit. Still, with that being said, you are ACES Myg!
The points made above are what to expect with the rest of my long winded confession. Here’s my story:
Fucking Twilight. I could NOT believe my friend going off about that “kid” crap. Which anyone that knows me knows that I am still a kid in too many ways. So who’s the joke on?!
But Twilight? Really? I don’t give a shit that I like Harry Potter. It’s not even the same thing…
My friend was all ape shit about the books, movies, CD’s, blah blah blah. I ignored her ramblings for the most part. I didn’t pay much attention to the phenom at all. I thought it was for kids and it wouldn’t hold my interest since I figured it was rated G. Plus I had only ever read one book cover to cover in my entire life.
I still don’t know what happened to change the course of the universe but one day I decided to watch Twilight on cable. I missed the first 20 minutes and I normally would never watch a movie I had never seen if that much time had elapsed. But I got a real good look at the Precious and I was undone. I stayed locked up in my bedroom totally faking illness and ignoring my husband and kids. Whatever. Don’t judge me. I was busy riding the Twi-Whore Express full steam ahead.
I had to call my friend and ask her to bring me the book. Before I was halfway through it I told her to just pony up the rest of the series. I couldn’t stop!
I blew through the series in a little over a week and also managed to watch Twilight about 20 times and the kiss scene at least 100 times. I masturbated a lot to that scene.
I was consumed. I had to buy magazines on Ebay, all the books for myself, trading cards in hopes of landing a nice Rob card to place in my
vaginapocket and download more pics to my computer than should be allowed. Let’s not even forget that I actually started treating my husband like the whore that I was when we had first met.
Why did I wait SO long to get into this shit? I wasted valuable time (but saved on panties). I still can’t believe the level of obsession this all is. Probably why I try not to care.
I got in deeper. I went to Twi-Con L.A. alone (husband doesn’t know that), started spending way too much money, only slept about four hours a day because there was more reading to do. And fuck-my-biscuits that whole Midnight Sun. That bitch was/is killing me. I wore adult diapers for a week after reading that the first time.
But for reasons not entirely sure to me, all this Twi-Fecta started to change me. I lost weight, started to try and look human at work, bought tighter clothes, found the old me and a mess of other orgasmic fun. I put out more for my husband and don’t always picture that I’m taking it in the ass from Rob anymore. Well, maybe I do that too much but my hubby benefits! That makes it ok, right?
Mmmm. Robert Pattinson. I would do very naughty things to him. He drives me crazy. I seriously think it has to be unhealthy the amount of time that I think about and "stare" at pictures of him.
I’m not even positive how I found Twitarded. But the moment I read one post I was hooked. You are like my drug dealers and I am your crack whore. You ladies nail it on the head every time. I want to take you ladies and make a sandwich with all of you. No wait. We could be sticky buns. Throw some RPattz in there and…**sigh**
Thank you for messing with my head and other body parts but more importantly keeping things funny as hell.
Osa Bella. Umm. Where do I begin? I think the story is so well written. I can’t even read some of the chapters without stopping to get myself off because reading the story makes me dizzy and tingly in all the right places. Oh how I wish that this could be a movie and Rob agree to star in it. Fuck us all. Orgies would break out in the theaters and Pee Wee Herman would be in the back spewing all over us.
Now that same friend of mine that somehow tranced me into the Twi-Side is now coming up to me begging me to give her more chapters to read because her girly parts are all blazing. I’ve been cock teasing her and only printing out so many chapters at a time for her.
I am so Dom.
Thank you Myg. You have the mind of a genius. Please join the sticky bun.
I could go on but I’m sure you ladies have some Robert Pattinson circle jerk fiesta planned that I’m keeping you from. Especially now that I read tonight’s blog post. Excuse me, I have to go find my rabbit.
Twi-Twat Rot, thanks for making my day! And for being patient! And for making me snortle my much-needed and deserved "I Survived Another Monday!" celebratory cocktail out my nose. Totally worth it. Plus I know where to get a refill.