Twilight is one of the stupidest franchises in the history of ever. I hate everything about it. Everything. I tried to get into it, I really did. Love the whole Vampire thing. “True Blood” is one of my favorite shows, I rarely miss an episode. The first “Underworld” movie is one of those that I could sit through over and over again. So when I heard about “Twilight” I thought I’d give it a shot. Yes, I knew it had been written for teenagers, but I had read and loved the entire “Harry Potter” series and loved every single word.
Here’s the problem with Twilight: it’s written from the point of view of a whiny teenager who just mopes around. Nothing happens in the first part of the book. Nothing. A friend of mine had read it and loved it and I kept asking her, “when does it start getting good.” She should have said, “never” because that would have been the right answer. As soon as I got to the part where his skin is glittering in sunlight when they’re in a meadow, I shut the book and though, “Fuck this, I’m out.”
Fuck you, Stephenie Meyer, you write drivel. Also, your name is spelled wrong.
My inner teenager died a little with that whole Twilight thing. It cried, and then committed suicide for having been exposed to it. The last thing I ever expected was to give another shot to stuff intended for a much young audience. Yeah, yeah, I know I have an unnatural fascination with Big Time Rush (I blame my nephew). And it’s not like I’m buying concert tickets and putting posters of Logan Henderson on my wall.
You can imagine my delight when a friend of mine recommended The Hunger Games, and I took her advice. Obsessed. Totally obsessed. Yes, it’s totally like a teenage version of The Running Man, but who the hell cares. Peeta Mellark is in it and I heart him. You can bet your sweet ass I’m going to buy myself a mockingjay pin and I’ll see the movies when they hit the theaters.
You can also bet your ass that I’m totally team Peeta and I think Josh Hutcherson is a tiny dreamboat.
Yours, Mrs. Peeta Mellark.