Bite Me!

The Twilight series is like a greasy meal after a night of drinking. For some, it is eaten quickly, it hits the spot, and it lingers in the system. For others, it is impossible to choke down and is pushed away quickly. Sadly, like much in life concerning food, I just can’t get enough of it.

I am a fan of vampires. I’ve read my Bram Stoker, Anne Rice, Charlaine Harris, and even Elizabeth Kostova. I am obsessed with Buffy, liked Angel, love True Blood, and won’t watch The Vampire Diaries for love or money.

Let’s get something straight right off the bat – The Twilight vampires are the saddest, most ludicrous bunch of vampires ever. What the hell kind of vampire doesn’t drink blood? Only in the Pacific Northwest would you get a freaking vegetarian vampire. They also get to gallivant around during the day – as long as they aren’t in direct sunlight – at which point they sparkle. Yup. Sparkly vampires. Gag me with a stake. They are immortal, but choose to spend their unending years in high school. I guess they have never heard of homeschooling or college. These vampires even have superpowers, but only the touchy-feely ones.

The story itself isn’t very original. Boy meets girl, boy wants to eat girl, boy and girl fall in love. Edward is particularly intrigued by his inability to read Bella’s mind. Sadly for him, he never realizes it is because nothing much is going on inside of it. As for Bella, she never once thinks it is creepy that a centurgenarian is interested in a teenager. The second book introduced Jacob, a werewolf with a taste for depressed, suicidal brunettes. He and Bella become friends without benefits and the romantic triangle is set that will carry through the rest of the series.

It really is that simple. Oh sure, there are bad vampires, breakups, makeups, bloodshed, tears, and a fourth book that is so stupid and ridiculous that it will one day get its own post. And yet, the Twilight series has become a phenomenon. I could try to explain it, analyze it, and understand it, but I’d rather just enjoy it. It’s goofy fun. And tonight, I’ll be attending a midnight showing of New Moon to continue the saga of the lion falling in love with the lamb and millions of women falling in love with a scruffy Brit with a bathing problem. But I’ll tell you a secret; I’ll be wearing a Team Werewolf t-shirt, because Oz, well, Oz is my homeboy.