Why I Don’t Participate in NaNoWriMo

For starters, I just went through the local shopping circular to find daily post ideas. Did you know that laundromat on Main Street offers free Tide on Tuesdays and Thursdays? Holy fuck that’s a good deal.

I tried NaNoWriMo once a long time ago when I was a wee lass filled with big dreams and hope. I lasted two days. I just don’t have the stamina for novel writing. I start strong, but  peter out, kind of like a Rand Paul speech before he lifts full paragraphs from Wikipedia and Ayn Rand’s LiveJournal.

I do have awesome book ideas so maybe you, one of my faithful readers, can take one of my ideas and make something out of it.

1. Fifty Shades of Twilight

Bellana Swansteele is a virginal factory worker in a silver bullet factory. Edwarstian Cullgrey is a wealthy werewolf. Bellana is inexplicably drawn to Edwarstian when he pisses a circle of urine around her.  They become lovers the night Edwarstian humps her leg vigorously, but will their love survive? Edwarstain can’t seem to stay off the furniture and eats the newspaper. Bellana has mousy brown hair, an inner goddess and a super vagina. She knows Edwarstian is dangerous because he sheds and claws up her couch. She believes her super vagina can change him for the better or at least train him to use the litter box. Holy cowshit!

2. The Next Gone Girl

I don’t really have anything more to add to this. I just figured any book that outright said it was the next Gone Girl  in the title would be an instant bestseller. Shit, you could probably make it about that laundromat offering free Tide on Tuesdays and Thursdays. Then have the Tide replaced by Gain to give it a twist.

3. The Bob Ross Code

Symbologist Tom Hanks discovers a murdered body by a velvet clown painting at the Antique Roadshow and thus uncovers a battle between the Scions of Elmo and the Muppets of Grover over the possibility that Snuffleupagus was really the son of Gordon. The velvet painting bears the inscription “happy little trees” which Hanks sees as a clue to solving the puzzle of Snuffleupagus’ paternity.

4. The Fat Games

This distopyian novel is set in the distant United States where obese people are put on display and subject to ridicule by a short, toned, shrieking thing called The Jillian. The Jillian forces the obese subjects to do push-ups on camera and strip down to their skivvies for the weekly weigh-in. She tortures them with platitudes like “Unless you puke, faint or die, keep going.” Will this boring nightmare ever end?

5. Men Are From Sportsland and Women Are From Menstruationland

Men and women are so different–it’s like they’re from other lands or planets even!?! Men like to hunt and rape bears while women like to sew and bathe in chocolate. Men eat batteries. Women drink buckets of orphan tears. Men like to dangle their dingles off bridges while women like to get paid less for the same job. Will these two genders ever see boob to eye?

So get writing….you just have to promise me 50% of the profits.

Speaker 7 is not writing a novel but is writing a post every day as part of the Nano Poblano Team. This may make a good novel idea….or not.

Fifty Shades of Bastardarized Boredom

My prayers have been answered.

Remember when I finished Fifty Sharts of Grey Goop and I declared “Holy twat-twizzler! Will someone please–pretty please with a butt plug on top–write some more words about an abusive douche and an empty space who murmurly sticks things in each other’s holes?”

Well Chrisward and Bellana are back! This time in the incarnation of Bennett Ryan and Chloe Mills. He’s a vampire billionaire media executive with a marbled sparkling body and flashing topaz grey hazel eyes. She’s the pfftt sound that comes from a whoopie cushion expelling actual gas.

And they bang. Their genitals. Into each other.

The book is called Beautiful Bastard.

That is a good title. And by good, I mean beat me in the face with a wire brush.

Two women are to blame for this current celebration of an abusive dickface. Remember how in the Declaration of Sentiments, Lucretia Mott had wanted to write:

Resolved, That woman should become wet and horny from being infantilized and humilated by a gorgeous rumproast man.

And Elizabeth Cady Stanton was all like “Bitch, please. That goes against the very nature of women rights.”

And Lucretia Mott was all like “Just you wait Lizzie. Women are gonna be down with this shit because the world is fucking ending.”

Lucy was right.

So I slogged through the first chapter.

Here’s the thing: My gall bladder has stopped working.

I blame Fifty Fart Nuggets. It turned my entire body into one giant vat of bile, and my little ol’ gall bladder couldn’t take it and has decided to secede from the sinking ship (I know I’m mixing metaphors, but I just fucking read chapter one of Beautiful Bastard).

So Benchrisward is a beautiful man, but has the personality of Newt Gingrich on his period. Chloebellana is his toiling intern who is not physically described. There is a lot of clenching jaws and stomach muscles. There’s wetness monitoring. There are flashing eyes and murmuring bungholes.

Then they boink in the conference room because…spahettios have meatballs, I honestly have no idea.

You can torture yourself here.

I checked on Amazon and it looks like the sequel is coming out in a few months. I’m sure it will be wonderful.

Lucretia Mott would be so proud.

Speaker7 Reviews Breakin’ Dawn 2: Electric Boogaloo

I saw Breaking Dawn 2 last night and it was soooooooooo good.

Full disclosure: I have not seen this movie.

I wore my Team Sparkleballs T-shirt and purchased a giant box of Good & Plenty, which I instantly Twilightized.

I made a few predictions before the movie started:

• actors will look seriously at one another while breathing heavily out of their mouths
• Taylor Lautner will appear shirtless
• Kristen Stewart will eat her hair at some point
• Robert Pattinson will look constipated

And it begins….Bella Swan Cullen, fresh off her breakin’ pop ‘n lock victory where she popped out a kid by breaking every bone in her body, has brown hair.

Edward Cullen also has brown hair. It sticks straight up.

Bella has changed. Her friend Ozone notices when he stops by to give her the heartbreaking news that Miracles, the community center, is going to be bull-dozed by the city and redeveloped.

Bella says she’s still the same down girl who rocked the street crowds back in the day.

Bella wants to save the community center. So does her friend Jacob because he is destined to be with Bella’s young daughter. This is the thing where adult werewolf men “imprint” on baby girls in the manner of a dog “imprinting” on its territory and they’re going to eventual copulate, and that is in no way gross, right?

See Turbo gets it.

Then the movie gets really interesting. The developer is also a vampire and he dresses like Meryl Streep’s character in The French Lieutenant’s Woman. 

So Bella, Edward, Ozone and Turbo get together all their friends to put on a show to raise money to stop the developer.

Now I don’t want to give the ending away, but let’s just say Edward does a mean dolphin, which is surprising since he’s made out of marble.  

All in all, an epic romp filled with inexplicable dance montages and weird running. I give it 3 vampire baseballs*

*this rating system does not exist

Dearest Reader: Speaker7 is attempting to write a post every day in November so she doesn’t have to participate in NaNoWriMo (National Novel Writing Month). If you have any suggestions that don’t involve actually watching anything Twilight-related, please leave them in the comments.

Fifty Shades Freed is Unreadable (pgs. 301-350)

For previous installments, click here. 

Dear E.L. James:

Ugh, this goddamned book.

I’m sorry I didn’t mean to start with a vulgarity, but I just read the worst 50 pages of sentences  you clearly shite directly out of your bottom onto a piece of paper.

This speaks volumes because I read Fifty Shades of Grey  in its entirety and the ice-cream-in-the-vag monstrosity in Fifty Shades Darker. I’ve been slogging my way through Fifty Shades Freed, the shittiest of the trilogy, since the beginning of August. Now my grievance is not that you are a terrible writer–you are–but that you have created the two worst fictional people on the planet.

Ana and Christian Grey are just…ugh. They are just ugh. The only way this book can be saved is if they drown in their own bodily fluids. Does that happen? Please say it does.

I understand this began as fan fiction. You were reading Twilight and masturbating with a  marbly, sparkling snow globe, and basically created sludge from santorum-like source material. Doesn’t excuse all the butt pluggery behavior of your two protagonists.

So I started pages 301-350, and Ana, Christian and their worshippers are at a club, and this is what I read:

And I just fill up with hate. I feel like there should be some type of reciprocity, like you should be forced to read the play I wrote in German in 12th grade or all my city council meeting newspaper articles.

Mia, Christian’s sister, wants to dance and “throw some shapes.” Yeah, that’s not a saying. Maybe in Britain, but not here, and if it is a saying in Britain, this is why America declared independence. Ana wobbles out onto the dance floor because she’s drunk the equivalent of four bottles of wine and weighs 80 pounds. Ana’s surprised she can suddenly dance since she spent the first 20 years of her life in a dog crate reading books.

Ana dumbthinks she can dance because Christian has stuck numerous objects in down there. Never let Ana be a dance teacher.

She feels hands on her and thinks it’s Christian so she grinds her butt into his groin. Nope, not Christian, just some random meathead. Ana screams and slaps him. The guy backs off and then Christian punches him after the fact. Unfortunately he is not arrested for assault.

Ana dumb wonders why she did it, and we get this chestnut:

Christian’s still mad, but he does some sensual dancing. They do everything, but peen-stick on the dance floor and Christian makes the loving declaration “No one touches what’s mine.”

Awesome.

E.L., you do realize that owning people is not considered cool? Like if any man ever said that to me, I would first laugh because obviously he had to be joking, and then I would leave because…gross.

Ana’s drunk. They leave. He takes off her make-up. They “joke” about watching her pee and I die. She’s mesmerized by his pajama bottoms.

He’s not going to bury himself in her tonight but he orders her to sleep. “‘When I come back to bed, I’ll expect you to be asleep.’ It’s a threat, a command. . . it’s Christian.” Jesus christ. Hate. Hate right now searing in my brain.

He buries himself in her later when they go through a rape fantasy sex game. Really, the worst 50 pages. Afterwards, Christian says something totally normal. “You confound me.” No one talks like this, E.L., no one. It doesn’t make him sound poetic or smart, it makes him sound like you’re a terrible writer.

At breakfast, Ana surreptitiously watches Christian walk outside with the help. He picks up a bamboo stick and swipes it. Oh…she farts out of her brain. Is this anything? Is he going to cane her or are we just wasting my goddamned time? I’m expecting the latter because you write as if you are recording the day to day events of dildos.

Ah wonderful! The motherfracking email exchange! And it’s like we’re actually at work with Ana. We get to experience her assistant coming in. Should we go over your schedule? Yes, cancel my 10:30…oh excuse me the phone is ringing. Hello? Oh hi Roach. Yes I’ll come up to your office in 20 minutes. She farts into a chair. You realize you can condense all this into: Ana goes to work. It doesn’t need to be seven pages.

Then more emails and at first I was really confused–oh excuse me, confounded— because they’re talking about events that I haven’t read about and then I realize this is how you’re showing the passage of time, and it’s just not necessary. No one gives a shit about any of this. He emails about some good time with vaginal balls at some Dipshit Association dinner, and other sexual innuendo that makes me believe you, E.L., do not understand innuendo. Pointless.

Then we get a visit from Leila the ex-sub who tried to kill Ana, and Ana’s like “What’s up dawg?” And Ana’s all confused that Christian has a list of people forbidden to see her. Really? I’m not. I’m just surprised Ana’s not stuck in some cage in his basement. The Leila visit is uninspired, and Ana has immature jealous thoughts through the whole thing and compares herself to Leila, and E.L., I’m sorry your world is so small. Lovely women exist in the world. I’m sorry you can’t see that.

Christian’s all angerball. He angrily murmurs and strokes his face with his slim-jim fingers, and pfftt. And you try to pass it off as him just wanting Ana safe. No, E.L., he’s an abusive prick.

Ugh.

Just ugh to it all.

With searing hatred,

Speaker7

P.S. Why is this book so mutherfracking long? I know it’s neat when you learn how to cut and paste, but that doesn’t mean you should cut and paste huge chunks of paragraphs and try to pass it off as something new. If I have to read one more time how Ana is spent after a bout of boring peen-sticking, I’m going to fly to England and hit you in the head with a sack of vaginal balls.

50 Pages of Meh (pgs. 1-50)

Holy cow!

I just read the first 50 pages of 50 Shades of Grey and I’m blushing furiously. Crap! Get it together Speaker7 my subconscious sneers at me like a frothing jackal hopped up on bath salts. I slap it brutally and continue with this sentence.

There. I feel better getting that out.

Now I know a lot of people have read this book–more than 25 I think–and have spanked themselves with a lint brush while doing so (my friend, not me), but maybe you, dear reader, have not had the nonpleasure of immersing yourself in the lives of Anastasia Steele and Christian Grey.

This is why I’m here so you don’t have to suffer. It’s really, really poorly written, almost as if it was translated from Chinese into English by a 13-year-old girl who does not understand Chinese or English. There is an 85% chance I will not pick up the book again unless I’m ordered to by the sock puppet I’ve labeled “Sock Monkey Christian-Edward-Jacob”.

So hold onto your riding crop and clench down on your ball gag because now: Speaker7 Wearily Proudly Presents a Cliff Notes Version of 50 Shades of Grey with Pivotal Scenes Reenacted by Hugo, the man of 1,000 faces, and Goofy, the recently named blue bunny. 

Crap, thinks Bella Ana Steele with her brain-like brain, as she navigates a grill brush through the mop of hair she calls a hair mop. I need to study for finals and write essays and curl up on a couch and read British literature, but crap-on-a-stick! I have to go interview a non-interviewed-lots tycoon because my strawberry-blonded tenacious, gamine, demanding, intense, confident, beautiful, assured, runny-eyed, flu-ridden roommate is besieged by flu-ridden germs which have given her the flu. Ana knows dick about this dude and is incapable of typing his name into a Google search engine so she’s, like, crap prepared.

Ana stumbles into her car. She’s very uncoordinated due to her exposure to fetal alcohol syndrome. Driving ensues. She arrives at a glass building that is all white, all steel, all cold, all clinical and all blonde-haired-staff like. Elevator’s fast. Some waiting and inner monologue, e.g. Crap! Holy Cow! Fart Blossom, and our two protagonists meet. . . well Ana takes a face plant into Christian Grey’s office:

Although Christian’s 10 feet away, he is able to pick her up with his freakishly long fingers and shocks her with the electromagnetic field surrounding his body.

Sparks fly literally:

Christian appears to suffer from Tourette’s. He cannot stop his mouth from quirking up and curling down. He tilts his head and arches his eyebrows incessantly. He rubs his kebab-skewer-like fingers across his lips in the style of cartoon characters who are demonstrating another cartoon character’s craziness.

Ana questioningly questions him:

At times, Ana cannot keep her schizophrenia at bay. The voice in her head makes her think certain things then reprimands her for thinking them. She slaps herself in the face while Christian looks on impassively, curling a lip, arching an eyebrow, then extending a finger to press an elevator button 60-feet away. He wants her to stay, but she’s like, crap. So she leaves. Double crap.

Ana works at the hardware store. Then goes home. Then works at the hardware store again where she is besiegedly besieged by do-it-yourselfers. During a lull, Ana feels a steel-grey gaze and looks up and locks her eyeballs into a steel-grey gaze that is coming from the steel-grey eyeballs of steely eyed Christian Grey.

He smirkily buys stuff. They talk huskily, breathily and mutterly about cable ties, masking tape and rope.

Ana’s face is as red as a stop sign recently repainted even more red, like, think really, really red, like, so bright you would think “Wow, that’s definitely not green!” She gets Christian to agree to a photoshoot for her roommate’s article. Craptastic! her subconscious sings.

Glamour shots.

Christian invites Ana out for coffee. It his opportunity to turn the tables on Ana and ask her questions. “What would you like to drink?” he murmurs, eyebrows arched in a mysterious manner. He then admits to finding her mysterious. On the walk back, Ana almost gets run over by cyclist.

Christian saves her at the last possible second. How did he move so fast? she thinks, could he be a vampire?!? “Holy cow crap,” she breathes into his marbled long-fingered arms. I want to chew on his mushy mouth, she breathily thinks. Kiss me, crapdammit!

And that’s as far as I’ve got. I don’t know, maybe they might meet up again?

I need to go lie down now.

I Just Bought Breast Enlargement Drops

I wish people could know more about me.

I wish there was some way, I could show everyone my very essence. I know I can status update and tell people I used a fork correctly for once on Facebook. I know I can tweet and tell people I blew my nose into a colander on Twitter. And while both things are incredibly fascinating in the way it’s fascinating to read someone was delivered a virtual fortune cookie on Facebook and LOL!!!!!, I feel like all of you are missing out because you are not privy to all the minutiae that makes up a Speaker7-like existence. And in a way, I feel like I miss out on many things that I do because I’m too busy watching TV to notice. Like once I ate a carrot dipped in humus and it tasted okay, but I didn’t really think too much about it, and what did the world lose by that? (Answer: everything)

But holy sh*t! I guess there is a way to share my very essence because now I can share what I buy on Amazon.com with my millions of Facebook and Twitter followers. This is like Christmas, Drinking Straw Day and Mormon Pioneer Day all wrapped together in a smushed package taped together by Mormons using drinking straws.

What a wonderful and glorious time we live in! Before, we would just buy a bunch of crap and let it pile up until the rat swarms arrived and ate us whole. But now! Glory be to somebody, everyone can know what crap everyone buys. This was a discovery I recently came upon when I had to buy some crap to show people how much I love them. Thank god, that’s over because now I don’t have to talk to them again for a full year.

So here I lay it all bare for you. This is my holiday gift, and it’s a doozy because by knowing all there is to know about me means you know more about me.

This is me, in a snapshot of Amazon.com purchases. Let there be peace on earth.

It will soon be safe to come within 50 feet of me.

I bought this for my daughter. My daughter's name is ... um...Daughter...yes that's her name.

The smell will never go away. Even if you try soaking yourself in tomato juice, the stench never dissipates.

An absolute necessity.

And the money will come rolling in. Seriously I need it to pay my Amazon bill.

There are no words.

I wear this when looking at my Twilight ball.

Newt Gingrich is single, right?

The last time I knew, he was in Donald Trump's ass.

I like to shave when watching Where in the World is Matt Lauer.

The local unemployment offices need to start looking at this as an option.

RIP Dear Leader

What a glorious time we live in.

And finally my tangible gift to you.

But Speaker7, you’ve been so generous! How can you possibly give us something else?

Just shut up.

blog disclaimer: this post may cause this ailment. Reader beware.

________ Sexy Adult Costume

My excitement over purchasing items from the LTD Commodities Christmas Catalog almost led me to forgetting about Halloween.

Can you really blame me?

Look at this:

insert “you might be a redneck” joke

If it’s too small to read all the jokes have to deal with making a play on the word “crack” while showing a redneck’s ass crack. I do not understand this. If you can explain the joke to me, please do so in the comments area. Thank you so much.

And this:

Made 100 percent out of sparkly marble

**I believe you are purchasing towels, rugs or blankets with the actors’ likeness not the actual actors themselves.**

But thank Great Pumpkin for email. I mainly get emails from WordPress, but sometimes I get something special like offers to purchase white spray paint for my teeth (did you know that oxygen molecules work their way through dentinal tubules?? Science!!) or to buy Halloween costumes.

I am all about Halloween except when I forget about it due to excitement over Christmas catalogs, but that has only happened once.

I am all about sexy costumes…excuse me…seXXXyyyyyyyyejglk costumes. I really like to tart it up for Halloween, but have run out of ideas and really don’t want to go back to an old standby when I pretend to be a child for trick or treating. I’ve been a seXxy, sassy Oedipus Rex complete with Burger King crown and tears of blood from the gouging of my eyes. I’ve been a seXXtifed Vincent Van Gogh with a supersexxxxxxyyyy bloodied bandaged around my ear. I’ve been a too-hot-too-handle Lybian terrorist (this was for the 9th grade Halloween dance. Odd that I didn’t have a boyfriend until college) with a fake beard. So as you can see I’m all about sexiness sells sexshells by the seashore.

So how am I’m going to whore it up this year? I don’t want to do something blah like sexxy truck driver or sexXxy zombie Dick Cheney. I have a child now. I want to set a good example. Luckily I did not automatically trash an email from Buycostumes.com or else I would have lost out on some truly sexily fantastic ideas. Such as this:

KISS Catman Sexy Adult Costume

What is sexxxier than Peter Criss? Maybe Gene Simmons, which they also have as a KISS Demon Sexy Adult Costume. This feline is ready to rock all night long and party every day. I wish I could take credit for that sentence, but it’s from the Buycostume website.

And this:

The Silence of the Lambs Sexy Adult Costume

I remember when Hannibal Lector was eating that guy’s face, I was thinking “That is some sexy cannibalism right there.” Apparently this outfit is an officially licensed Silence of the Lambs (SOTL) product. I wonder what else is out there? Possibly a SOTL® lotion that it can rub on its skin and put inside a SOTL® basket?

If chainsaw-wielding psychopaths are more your thing, they do also offer Miss Leatherface Sexy Adult Costume.

Or this:

Sloth Sinner Sexy Adult Costume

When I think of attaching the sexy label to one of the seven sins, sloth is always first on the list…well maybe it ties with gluttony (unfortunately there is no Gluttony Sinner Sexy Adult Costume). Lazy is the new sexy.

And lastly this:

The Sushi’s On Me Sexy Adult Costume

I really have nothing better to offer so I will let Buycostumes speak for itself:

“Miso sexy! Presentation is everything, right? I guess if that’s how you roll! Costume includes a nude-colored bodysuit with attached leaves and faux sushi. Heads will turn (and mouths may water) when they see this impressive spread.”

Very, very tasteful. Classy, too.

I’m so..excuse me… Miso buying all of these.

A Fish Wrapped in Newspaper… Just for You

This month, Mr. Speaker7 and I will celebrate our wedding anniversary. Eight years….eight, long, long, long, long, long, long, long, long years. From what I understand, on the first anniversary, one bestows a gift of paper. The second, a rock followed by scissors on the third and so on and so on until the eighth, which is a fish wrapped in newspaper (reference: Martha Stewart Weddings). But I decided that my eighth anniversary gift will be a gift to you readers. Clearly I have a good handle on marriage because a) I’m still married and b) I’m not divorced.

Just look at this picture of wedded bliss:

The high-fiving of hands is the #5 sign of wedded bliss.

I want you all to learn from my success so one day, you too can write a blog post heralding your successful marriage to my husband.  Here are eight tips for having a successful marriage:

1. Don’t marry someone who sucks. Many people make this classic rookie mistake (reference: Bridezillas). You date someone for awhile, you hate him/her and then you get this idea that you will hate him/her less if you legally bind yourself to him/her for all eternity.

2. Strive for honesty. I say strive because we all have to lie to our spouses at some time. Do you think my saddlebags make me unattractive? Nope, in fact I’d like them bigger. Is my blog funny? Yes, yes it is. You didn’t laugh when I forced you to read my latest entry. I was laughing on the inside. What does that mean? Your saddlebags look really good today.

3. Don’t be that person who says your marriage works because you’re always right and then titter because that’s so original. Have you ever taken a good gander at the people who believe they are never wrong? It’s “people” like Nancy Grace, Dr. Phil and George W. Bush. Yeah, those people are the worst.

4. Please, oh please, for the love of christ, do not put your marital woes as your status update on Facebook. There is a good chance that your spouse is a Facebook friend or if not (why isn’t your spouse your Facebook friend? that’s wrong, man) has mutual friends, and will not enjoy reading “I want to divorce _____ so much right now” and seeing that you changed your relationship status to single. And then your mutual friends and family see this and begin to comment worryingly under your update, and now it’s really hard to explain that you’re mad because your spouse ate all of the Klondike bars and you were really looking forward to one after a long day at the fishhook factory. So since that makes you look petty, you end up filing for divorce, which was truly something you would not do for Klondike bar, but in this case you did.

5. Oh my god, do I really have to say this?..do not, I repeat, do not take a picture of your genitals and send it to someone you met on the Internet. Now men, I’m going to address you now because I don’t know of many stories about women getting into a serious pickle for photographing their vaginas (yes Oprah, I’m using the word vagina. I am empowered). There is no woman alive who wants to see that. No woman. If some special Internet friend is asking to see that, s/he (always he) is likely working for Perverted Justice. On a sidenote, isn’t that just about the worst name in the world. Are they saying the only justice they dish out is perverted? They should call it what it is…a total sham.

6. Make sure your sentences have verbs. I stole this from Dr. Phil’s “A Good Marriage” advice column. I wasn’t aware that people really had a problem with this, but I’m putting it just in case you leaving notes for your spouse that read like this: I with your best friend. I home late. I you.

7. Don’t fall in love with Edward Cullen/Jacob Werewolf (I’m too lazy to look up his last name) from the Twilight series. Don’t lament that your spouse’s eyes aren’t topaz or that his arms aren’t made of marble or that he doesn’t sparkle in sunlight or that he doesn’t imprint on fetuses (I’m not getting into this part, if you want to know what it means look it up online) or doesn’t eat live chickens or doesn’t write the most boring books of all time….Don’t be these people.

8. Do not take advice from people who claim they have the key to a successful marriage. They always have no idea what they’re talking about.

This Post Will Be Unpopular

People seem to really like Twilight.

Like this person:

There are teams, I guess part of the vampire baseball league, that people sign up for, there are Twilight conventions, there is this:

I am adding my own contribution to the the Twilibrary; a condensed Cliff Notes of all four books that I wrote after reading them in 2008. It’s a bit incomplete because I stopped summarizing about 334 pages into the third book.  Before you read it, I should say that I’m really not a fan of the books. Here’s the thing though, buddy. This is America. Love it or leave it pal or what I mean, is America is full of melting pots and salads bowls of differing opinions.  And if someone doesn’t agree with you then you call them a Communist or liberal pukeball or Volturi-lover (I’m imagining that is an insult).

Book 1: Twilight

Hi I’m Bella. I moved to Forks, WA, because my mom is obsessed with her new minor league hubby and since I’m so mature (a characteristic that will continue to be refuted by the next 2,500 pages of my insipid thoughts), I decided to hightail to my dad’s house. I’m clumsy and plain. Every boy in Forks loves me. Oh look there’s a hot guy with topaz eyes and really really white skin. His name is Edward and he has three equally pale-looking siblings. He’s hot, hot, hot!  Whoa, he like totally hates me, wtf? Oh now he saves me from being hit by a van. How did he move so fast? Oh, he’s a vampire. Who’s hot. He loves me because my blood is the sweetest blood he’s ever smelled (um yuck? I mean *sigh*) Oh here comes a plot…kind of…(on page 856) vampire baseball game..these other outta town vamps want to play, and one named James smells me and now must spend his life tracking me down. I flee with Edward’s “brother” Jasper and “sister” Alice, but then James calls and says he has my mom, so I leave defenseless because hmm. . . And now I’m being beaten to death and bitten, but Edward shows up at the last minute and sucks the vampire venom from my hand. We go to the prom. I want to be a vampire. That is my entire thought process on it well except for thoughts that I hope I’m pretty. Did I mention Edward was hot?

Book 2: New Moon

Edward, who is really, really good-looking,  is leaving me because Jasper wanted to kill me when I got a paper cut. This seems plausible. I become nothing.  I do some awesome things like ride a motorcycle, walk in dangerous neighborhoods where I’m almost gang-raped, and cliff dive because I can hallucinate Edward’s voice telling me to cut this shit out. This is the greatest love story ever with the exception of Sid and Nancy and OJ and Nicole. Oh and then I lob onto this friend of the family named Jacob who turns out to be a werewolf and he’s totally in love with me, because who isn’t? Did I mention I’m plain and clumsy. Werewolves hate vampires and there’s a treaty and zzzzzzzzzzz….  I cliff dive alone and then as I’m drowning, I see Edward and decide this is an awesome time to die, but then Jacob rescues me because otherwise the series would end. Alice can see into the future, but can’t see werewolves because necessary plot point and then she comes to Forks to comfort my dad. She finds out the Edward thinks I’m dead so he’s going to Italy to meet up with the royal vampire family the Volturi to request his death..and zzzzzzzzzzz……Vampires sparkle (seriously?) in the sunlight so he’s gonna step out into the public square at noon and force the Volturi to kill him. I save him and blah blah and now the Volturi want me to be vampire because I know too much…and Edward loves me so now I can live again because remember girls: You are nothing without a man even if his body is at room temperature and he does drink blood.  Yea for me!

Book 3: Eclipse

Edward’s hot, hot, hot. I’m plain. I want to be a vampire!!! Ed said he’d turn me only if I marry him first. OMG!!! I can’t marry him..that’s totally f***ed up, but what isn’t is the idea of ending my human life and spending eternity with him, that’s an easy decision like paper or plastic. Jacob wants me bad!!! But Edward wants to keep me from him so he removes my car battery and has Alice hold me hostage when he’s out hunting animals, and no one anywhere thinks that’s insane. Feminism is vanquished. I want to be a vampire!!! Uh-oh, a newborn vamp is killing people in Seattle. I totally want Edward’s marbled body. . .oh Jacob kisses me! What will I look like when I’m a vampire….

(editor’s note: the rest of this may or may not have happened)

I looked up into the grayish sky. The color reminded me of marble, which then made me think of Edward’s marbled arms holding and cradling me like a baby. He does that sometime because we have this weird father-daughter, abusive boyfriend-humiliated girlfriend kind of relationship. I was knocked out of my reverie by a shining white light in the sky.

“Edward, what’s that?” I asked him, marveling at his beautiful mouth and eyes and hair and ears and nose and teeth and eyelashes. I then tripped over a peddle and Edward caught me in his cold, marbled arms.

“I’m not sure. I like how you smell,” he said.

Just then Alice and the rest of the family came running into the clearing.

“It’s a nuclear bomb!” Alice screamed.

There was a terrible explosion and everyone died.

Book 4: Breaking dawn

……. (go watch Buffy)