Please Promise Me You Won't Do Anything Reckless

Uh, ok Edward. Anything else you want me to promise you? How about a million dollars, or my womb.

Yeah, I just quoted the Twilight movie up there, and no I don't feel good about it. The radio station here that I listen to because I want to have a deep, meaningful relationship with everyone on staff (even the King of Mexico) plays or talks about or mentions how to win tickets to New Moon EVERY FIVE G.D. SECONDS! I've had to hear how sad Bella is she can't be with her Vampire lover so much I'm almost tempted to listen to Ryan Seacrest. Almost.

But after last night I realized all that force-feeding me Twilight was actually kind of working because not only have I been dreaming my sister is all moody and emo and friends with shift-changers, but I was home alone last night and wandered into the bathroom with my (third) glass of wine and the dog. We poked around in Becky's cupboard looking for some nail polish because we decided it would be a good idea to paint her (the poodle's) toenails pink as a fun surprise! I didn't find any nail polish, but we did find her biore pore strip things - you know, those things you stick on your face to rip off the top layer of your skin so you look refreshed and/or like you just washed your face in an acid bath and couldn't find the emergency shower.

Anyway, I put one on me and then one on the dog (she needed it) and we wandered down the hall to Becky's room so Crystal could get cozy on a pile of Becky's sweatshirts that I set down for her because I couldn't find a blanket, and so I could scan Becky's books for my signed copy of Me Talk Pretty One Day (That I can't find and that I can't think about not finding because it was the best inscription EVER and I stood in line for an hour to get him to sign it and then when I got up there I couldn't think of anything to say except ". . . hi" and then I started crying. Ok, I didn't cry, but I may as well have. He had to coax me through talking to him like he was my therapist and I was about to meet my real dad.), but I didn't find it. Instead what I found was the entire Twilight series and I said aloud to the bookshelf "Please promise me you won't do anything reckless" in my best man-vampire impression.

And I picked it up.

And I started reading it.

WHY? WHY AM I DOING THIS TO MYSELF! Every page makes me feel dirty and weird inside (not in that way Gabi), but it's so hard to stop because . . . I don't even know why. The only explanation is that the book has some sort of hypnotizing powers instilled in it at the printers, or at the very least, crack-cocaine is seeping out from the spine in regulated intervals. I read 20 pages before I realized what I was doing and put the book back on the shelf and walked away. And I swear Crystal was shaking her head at me in disappointment as I made my way back to the loving arms of 30 Rock.

"But I can picture Robert Pattinson as Edward now!" I said in my defense. To the dog. Who was not in the room at the time.

"Not that I even like Robert Pattinson," I continued. Because I don't even like him. I just didn't have a good excuse at. all. Not. At. All.

I better come up with something good though, because if I start reading when I go home I'm gonna have to explain myself to Crystal and that's not easy to do. Not with those judging eyes of hers.