Twilight

Sometimes when I drink beer, I think of the Twilight novels.

True story: my fiancée reads the Twilight books. She brings some down with her to Atlanta, my place of birth. One of my Atlanta friends, the only girl, expresses interest in reading them. So my fiancée lets her borrow them. I return three months later, and all of my friends (most of them males in their late twenties) have not only read these books, but become passionately in love with them.

They argue loudly over who’s better for Bella (the main character): Edward (the vampire) or Jacob (the werewolf). These arguments become very emotional and passionate, as friends’ past drug addictions and other emotional experiences are brought up as evidence in each side trying to prove their point. Some even go to conventions and brag about how much various cast members from the movies touch them.

After all this, I decided to read the books. The first three, as I expected, were terrible. But the fourth one was AMAZING.

Let me tell you something; Stephanie Meyer is one fucked up bitch! House destroying sex, superhuman infant romance, gory dismemberment of animals, immolation, and cannibalistic caesarian sections are just some of the rewards for reading 1500+ pages of teenage girl whining.

So here’s my suggestion; read the fourth book. If you can’t tell what’s going on, read some summaries or something. It’s pretty amazing. Mormons are screwy.

– David

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