I love vampires. I always have. My mental exercise is to determine what physical things I would need to change in myself before being turned. Hair cut and colored. Check. Legs shaved. Check. After all, your vampire self forever stays like your physical living being was at the time of death.
A few years ago I wasn’t surprised that my daughter read all of the books in the Twilight series. Like mother, like daughter. She enjoyed Twilight, the book, but didn’t want to see the movie. We eventually rented it.
New Moon, on the other had, was a must see. After all, it had Jacob in it. My daughter loves Jacob, and would argue with me about who was hotter, Jacob or Edward. (She told me I couldn’t vote for Bella.) I didn’t read any of the books. Not enough sex or violence for my vampire tastes.
Jacob the werewolf
A few days ago we went and saw New Moon. I felt like it was a two hour therapy session, and I was the therapist who just wanted to slap Bella and then go pee. I think I was the only one. And when Jacob took off his shirt, every woman, teen, and tween in the audience audibly sighed. And then all the men, and me, laughed. And it occurred to me that there were just as many “older” women lusting after Jacob as there were teenagers.
So rise and shout, the cougars were out. A great homage to the series’ author Stephenie Meyer, a graduate of Brigham Young University. Cougars for Jacob. Rarr.
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