Entry #5

As I sit here, my father passes with a authoritative aura, squaring his shoulders, attempting to be intimidating. failing = dismally. "It's 12:15, I think it's time you go to bed." If you read this, Dad, I love you. But Blog comes first, sleep comes last.

It's been a few days. Not that I've forgotten about this, no, but because I am lacking activity right now. I'm sure all of you reading this (and by all, I mean Ashley) are not interested in my pajama-clad, tea-drinking, madusa-haired lifestyle as of these past few days. Not everyone can pull off the 'just-rolled-out-of-bed-and-I-don't-care-what-the-haters-think-of-me' hairstyle. I don't get it.

Now, I know if you're a female and aware of the fads of today, the picture above sends a certain excitement through your entire girly body. Oh yes, the famous Edward Cullen. sigh. I figure I should admit to my flaws. Come clean, if you will. I. Am. A. Crazy. Fangirl.

I never thought it possible, for less than a year ago, fangirls made me chuckle, shaking my head in pity. Oh, those poor, lonely girls. Nothing better to do than stalk their obsessions through the interwebs, installing webcams into unsuspecting celebrities' glove boxes. Feeding their addiction on blogs and by purchasing used tissues off of ebay.

I have entered the bizarre dimension of fan-dom. Terrifying, but beautiful.

Now, if you're reading this and telling yourself "oh how original, another girl addicted to that book with the apple", do not jump to conclusions. If you you assume that's the only thing I am addicted to, you are wrong. I thought I had done a good job of avoiding temptation. I barely watched television, nicely avoiding shows such as Lost, or Grey's Anatomy. I read classics, if any book at all. But this summer changed it all.

My cousin suggested one evening that we watch some show called One Tree Hill. "Just one disc," she urged when I explained my uneasiness with starting a new TV series. Oh, where's the harm in the first disc of the first season? Big mistake. I now own all seasons, and my Monday nights are always booked at 9 pm. If I have plans, they always end with enough time for me to make it home in time to get comfortable in front of the boob-tube.

Then it happened. Twilight was everywhere. Vampires, you say? Not my cup of tea, if you catch my drift. Apparently, however, it is literally impossible to converse with any female in school if you do not know the meanings behind words like "Edward Cullen", "Bella Swan", "Lion and the Lamb", or "Sexy Vampire". I decided, for my own social purposes (because as humans, we crave even a tiny bit of society), that it was necessary for me to read this so-called "Twilight".

Roughly 2 or so weeks later, I had finished the entire series. I fully admit to being obsessed, as I simply cannot get enough of it. I prowl fansites, dream about British hunks by the name of Robert Pattinson, and even now, I am blogging about it. Look how far I have stooped.

Don't judge me, I guarentee you, if you have not already, one day you will experience the horrific feeling of fanaticism. It's a guilty pleasure, we all have them. I just openly admit to it. Well, in my blog I do. With my all of one reader (love you, Ashley). So I guess it's not quite openly admitting. But if you have read my blog, you deserve to know!

Now, I must take my father's loving advice, and get some sleep. If it helps you sleep, I will try and hide my obsession for all things twilight in here. Once I'm in Ireland, I should have more exciting things to talk about. Like Irish men and sexy accents. oh baby.