This post comes at a time when I am struggling with some terrible inner admittances. What? I like Beyonce now? And unicorns? And sitting in my bed reading Glamour? WTF, self? And okay, to be fair, for some reason Glamour randomly started coming to me last month out of nowhere and I have paid them zero dollars, but it keeps coming, and Diane Lane looked so cute on the cover that I had to read the article, and here I am. In guilty pleasure-land. I like some really, really, really terrible things.
Regardless, it is with much trepidation that I admit here, before you, that I started reading Twilight (p.s. I initially spelled that TWIGLIGHT!!). I am so not proud of this. It’s the trashiest, most terrible piece of “literature” I have ever read. The vampires sparkle. Sparkle. Like diamonds. WTF. I like all things vampires, which is good and fine (I think??) but I have sunk to an all-time low and embarrassing territory here. That said: I seriously cannot stop reading it. I advise you to walk swiftly away from this book. It will suck you in and ruin you and steal your soul and more importantly, all of your “omg the semester ends in 3 weeks” motivation. Don’t do it.
In a more uplifting and promising note, I’m also re-reading Margaret Atwood’s Moral Disorder, which is so good it’s scary and not even a little bit fair. The format of this is unusual for Margaret (I think I can call her that, maybe, because I’m her #1 fan), but she does it outstandingly and I so highly recommend it. Margaret, I love you. You give me hope, Margaret, that maybe I’m not a 14 year old dolt trapped in a 23 year old’s body!!
Next week: I talk about the Babysitter’s Club and how much I hated Dawn-the-dippy-vegetarian-from-Cali-with-divorced-parents but loved Stacey-the-fashionable-blonde-from-NYC!!!-who-had-diabetes. J/K.