Bring it.

Jan. 6th, 2010 04:28 pm
perpetual_motion: hang yourself please (bring it)
A few weeks ago, [ profile] alecya_giovanni told me I needed to finish reading Twilight so that I could properly eviscerate it for her amusement. Lat night, I texted her that I was throwing in the towel due to a lack of giving a shit.

I picked up the book a minute ago to read the beginning of the next chapter to double-check my interest (I have a terrible time giving up on books), and I have discovered this:

"I brought the jacket for you. I didn't want you to get sick or something." His voice was guarded. I noticed that he wore no jacket himself, just a light gray knit V-neck shirt with long sleeves. Again, the fabric clung to his perfectly muscled chest. It was a colossal tribute to his face that it kept my eyes away from his body.

That shirt has more description than Edward's face.

It is, as the kids say, on.
perpetual_motion: hang yourself please (made of win)
I had a fantastic dinner tonight, including a glass of wine and a sloe gin fizz [absolutely glorious if you can find a bar that makes one.] So, I'm gonna try to get through "Twilight", chapter 9. Booster and Beetle up in my icon are preemptively laughing at my snark. Hope the rest of you feel the same at the end of this.

If you need to have a reminder, here's the second part of my chapter 8 snark. Short version: It was more important for Bella to calm down Edward from his murderous rage than for Edward to make sure that Bella was okay after almost getting violently attacked by four dudes.

Oh, and Bella's not in shock because she's good at repressing things.

The drinking game thus far:

Grammar fuckery? Drink.
Rule five violation? Drink.
Charlie-bashing? Drink.
Small-town bashing? Drink.
Specialist Snowflake spotting? Drink.
Someone acts like a stalker? Drink.
Interactions between Edward and Bella make you think of the Cycle of Violence (CoV)? Drink.

Chapter 9 is titled "Theory", and given that Bella's already decided [based on no actual logical evidence] that Edward is a vampire, and that she's cool with Edward reading people's minds to stalk her, this should be fun.

And away we go! [With a few pieces of snark from The Husband.] )

And thus ends chapter 9. My buzz has worn off. Perhaps I should read through and play my own drinking game.
perpetual_motion: hang yourself please (picturing you naked)
I was tracking back through my tags today, and I ended up re-reading all my "Twilight" snarkery. And, having been four months removed from the eye-gouging, alcoholism-causing terribleness of it all, I'm kinda tempted to start at chapter 9 and see if I can get to the end.

[Poll #1415195]
perpetual_motion: hang yourself please (FLEEEEEE)
Because I'm much more succinct than when I try to write out all my issues and what you should be reading instead.

Video under cut )

So, in short, FLEEEEEE.
perpetual_motion: hang yourself please (Default)
When we last left off, I was hoping to be put out of my misery because Meyer thought that after Bella was nearly assaulted by four men, her main concern should be CALMING DOWN EDWARD.

In case you missed it:

So, we’ll pick up from that LOVELY conversation wherein it was MORE IMPORTANT for Edward to be calm than for BELLA TO BE CALM. You know, right after BELLA WAS NEARLY ASSAUTLED.


Yakko, ladies and gentlemen!

All right, let’s see if we can find the end of this.

I doubt it.

Jack is pretty. I will hold onto that. )
perpetual_motion: hang yourself please (and a gun)
See icon for how this is gonna go.

I want to start tonight by letting you lot know that I found a copy of “Twilight” in actual book form. And, “dust moats” is, in fact, spelled “dust moats” in the COMPLETELY LEGITIMATE COPY OF THE BOOK.

When you think about it, though, it’s a good thing. That dust has every right to defend itself, and if it wants to do it with moats, then so be it. Perhaps the dust “motes” will show up and act as cavalry if the feared Dustbuster invasion ever actually happens.

And, yes, I am incredibly proud of that joke.

Moving on.

Last we left our completely inept heroes, my face looked something like this:

I love Photo Booth )

And The Husband [who has only listened to what excerpts I read him] had a look on his face like this:

But that's...that's WEIRD )

Being a stalwart sort, I’m ready to start Chapter 8. Chapter 8 is titled, “Port Angeles”, and I’m betting we’ll get a great deal of incredibly purple description about the dresses the girls try on. I’ll not put too fine a point on it: any description we get of dresses or Port Angeles or the drive there will still be MORE DESCRIPTION THAN WE HAVE OF EDWARD.

Any takers on that bet? )


That’s it for the night. I’m typing in a way where I fear for my keyboard. And, not being a complete douche, I CARE THAT MY KEYBOARD IS OKAY.
perpetual_motion: hang yourself please (FLEEEEEE)
I threw in the hat last night because my definition of "logic" and Bella's definition of "logic" are very, very different. In short: I own a dictionary and have a working brain. I do not feel the same can be said of Bella.

Having now gotten

this look off my face )

I feel I'm ready to finish the eye-gouging, sense-losing experience that is Chapter 7. However, if you're new to the game, allow me to present to you my personal feelings thus far:

That's a 10-minute clip, but highly entertaining. I might be extremely biased, but I do make reading recommendations.

Tonight's beverage is a 12-ounce bottle of Mountain Dew. Because I just finished my hot tea, and it's not late enough for booze yet.

Wherein I start to lose my shit and post stuff from youtube as distraction. )

And thus ends chapter seven. Hope the intermissions were entertaining.
perpetual_motion: hang yourself please (damned sentient typewriter)
Tonight's icon is being used because I imagine someone saying it, with great anger, towards Stephanie Meyer during the writing of this literary wasteland. I'd certainly have a few words for her if I were her computer.

Tonight's drink is, again, hot tea. Because it's fuckin' cold here, and flannel pajamas only do so much. Also, it's 11:22 PM here, so we may not get all the way through chapter 7. It all depends on the amount of ire I'm in the mood to spew.

Chapter Seven is titled, "Nightmares", and I'll let you make your own joke.

Wherein Bella thinks vampires are a logical option. No, really. )

Okay, I'm done for the night. The sheer amount of idiocy Bella is spewing in this chapter makes my head hurt. Her definition of "logic" and mine are very, very different. Probably because I know how a dictionary works.
perpetual_motion: hang yourself please (chair leg of truth!)
Tonight's distractions from the awful comes from my own journal. I've written a piece of Guy/Kyle [Green Lantern Corps], and I created a Jack McCoy fanmix. So, if you'd like to cleanse your palate afterwards, you can start there.

Tonight's drink is a cup of hot tea in a purple mug emblazoned with "drama queen":

mmm...tea )

Chapter Six is entitled "Scary Stories", and I can only imagine what those could be. The tale of fear of boys showing a healthy interest in you? The horrible possibility of living with a father who loves you? The dreaded growth of a personality?

What is beyond the veil?

Let's do this )

Hmmm...more literary criticism and goofy pictures than full-on rage. This is good. This makes it fun, in that, "Oh, look, a horrific house fire with clowns" sort of way.

And now that we're at roughly the 1/3rd point, a very important question:

[Poll #1349978]
perpetual_motion: hang yourself please (kick your ass)
I'm gonna level with you all: If I finish this chapter feeling more worn-out than trainwreck-amused, this will probably be it. There's only so much one snarky bitch can take, and if chapter 5 continues in its spiral of pure and complete idiocy, I may not continue on.

That being said, if you'd like to remember were we last left off, we were here.

Tonight's drink of choice is a 1 ounce shot of Bailey's Irish Cream. I like to sip it slowly, and it felt like a proper choice for these "festivities". And, also, so no one fears for my liver, let it be known that I'm not actually throwing back booze every time I recap. Given the amount I suggest others drink while reading the recap, I thought it would be best to make that clear.

If you don't read the whole thing, at least watch the clip I posted. )

The book still blows goats, but we're back to trainwreck-amused, so chapter six may get a go-round. Maybe.
perpetual_motion: hang yourself please (and a gun)
I imagine Spider Jerusalem, if he ever met Stephanie Meyer [and was, in fact, a real person], would set the bowel disruptor to "prolapse" and go about his day. Wish I had a bowel disruptor.

Chapter 5 is titled, "Blood Type". I need a drink. And I'm not kidding.

::goes off to make a drink::

Okay, I've got a Cosmo the size of my head. Let's do this.

"Thank you for joining us, Miss Swan," Mr. Mason said in a disparaging tone.

I love you, Mr. Mason. Marry me.

Bet it goes downhill from here )

Okay, that's it for tonight. I just...jesus h., the shit Meyer's spewing is actually getting WORSE. And even more psychologically unhealthy. Think about that.

Yeah, I'm ending this one on a downer. I didn't mean to, but there are times when shit falls like it does for a reason. And this reason? Is because this shit is fucked up.
perpetual_motion: hang yourself please (TWS!)
Consider the icon a gift. When you're about to gouge out your eyes, just stare at the glorious, glorious sight of Michael Cutter and his Tight White Shirt.

The month that followed the accident was uneasy, tense, and, at first, embarrassing.

"Uneasy"? "Tense"? Paging the Department of Redundancy Department. Yo! Meyer! RULE FIVE

How many more rules will be horribly assaulted? )

On a related note, I know a woman in her late twenties who has said she likes "Twilight" because the first person narrative means she can picture herself as the main character. It's not only girls and young women who are being convinced that the cycle of violence is a perfectly fine type of relationship; it's also women who have a history of making bad relationship decisions getting those decisions reinforced.
perpetual_motion: hang yourself please (I need milk)
Yeah, more Twilight. It's a train wreck, and I can't stop watching the cars pile up.

I jumped up to look outside, and then groaned in horror.

Dead body? House on fire? Two people acting like they’re sane? Not even close:

A fine layer of snow covered the yard, dusted the top of my truck, and whitened the road. But that wasn't the worst part. All the rain from yesterday had frozen solid — coating the needles on the trees in fantastic, gorgeous patterns, and making the driveway a deadly ice slick.


As uselessly as she handles everything else )

Thank you. Thank you. Tip your waitresses.
perpetual_motion: hang yourself please (i really fucking do)
 I got to the end of Chapter 2 on "Twilight".  Someone send me a prize.  A vodka prize.



perpetual_motion: hang yourself please (FLEEEEEE)
These are direct quotes from Twilight:

It was better because it wasn't raining yet

It was better because it wasn't raining yet.

This is a book set in the past tense. How could a past event still have a chance of happening? Does she have a TARDIS hidden somewhere?

though the clouds were dense and opaque

Oh, they're not the only dense thing in this "story". And why do we need to know that the clouds were dense and opaque? I would think the basic human knowledge of dense things usually not being see-through would lead everyone to the right conclusion. I mean, if you could see through the clouds they wouldn't be clouds, right?

Mike came to sit by me in English, and walked me to my next class, with Chess Club Eric glaring at him all the while; that was nattering.

Because Bella's complete self-absorption brings all the boys to the yard. And damn right, she's better than you. Damn right, she's better than you.

I present the following quotes as a full block to set up my next snark:

And it was worse because Edward Cullen wasn't in school at all.

All morning I was dreading lunch, fearing his bizarre glares.

I was terribly uncomfortable, waiting nervously for the moment he would arrive. I hoped that he would simply ignore me when he came, and prove my suspicions false.

He didn't come, and as time passed I grew more and more tense.

I was relieved that I had the desk to myself, that Edward was absent. I told myself that repeatedly. But I couldn't get rid of the nagging suspicion that I was the reason he wasn't there. It was ridiculous, and egotistical, to think that I could affect anyone that strongly. It was impossible. And yet I couldn't stop worrying that it was true.

So, let me see if I get this: Bella's happy that Edward's not there. Except that she wants to see him. Except that he'll glare at her. Except that she's glad he's not there. Except that she misses him.

I'm sorry, I can't hear you over the COMPLETELY UNHEALTHY RELATIONSHIP THIS IS SETTING UP. This reads like the goddamned cycle of violence. She's happy he's not there because he SCARES HER, but she also misses him because OMG HE SEEMS SPECIAL.


And lets not forget these gems:

Mike, who was taking on the qualities of a golden retriever, walked faithfully by my side to class [...] He lingered by my desk till the bell rang. Then he smiled at me wistfully and went to sit by a girl with braces and a bad perm. It looked like I was going to have to do something about Mike, and it wouldn't be easy. In a town like this, where everyone lived on top of everyone else, diplomacy was essential. I had never been enormously tactful; I had no practice dealing with overly friendly boys.


How did anyone make it past the first couple chapters of this clap? I don't think I'll even finish the second chapter, I'm spending so much time wanting to claw out my eyes. Before, I could understand this as escapist to a point, but now all I can wonder is HOW?

If you're on my flist, and you've read through them, and you like them to any extent, explain it to me. I mean it. I want to understand how millions of people bought into this.

And so we're clear on the rules: Any net-speaking, whiny bullshit will be promptly ignored. You're not worth my time if you're not going to use all the letters in the alphabet to make your point.
perpetual_motion: hang yourself please (i really fucking do)
I would like to mail Stephanie Meyer an entire case of Elements of Style by Strunk and White.

Barring that, I would like to hire a skywriter to spell out rules 5 and 6 in ten-foot high letters over Meyer's house:

5. Use definite, specific, concrete language.
6. Omit needless words.

And why does she need to see rules 5 and 6? How about this:

It was a faded red color

Oh, thank goodness she specified that a truck was a faded red color. I was worried there'd been an outbreak of faded red penguins. Or monkeys. Or flowers.

And then I would explain to her that Bella Swan is a twat. For proof, I would point out that Ms. Swan apparently fancies herself so damned important that, when overhearing Edward asking to be moved to a different Bio class, she immediately assumes it has everything to do with her. Because, when she sat next to him and kept looking at him, he was tense.

Or maybe he can smell crazy, you self-absorbed bint.

And, yes, I'm aware that I changed direction in terms of my ire, but as Meyer can't seem to decide if Bella is telling her story in the past or the present--and got her book published anyway--the direction of my ire is really the lesser of the problems.


perpetual_motion: hang yourself please (Default)

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