Her voice rang out and I instantly cringed. I was checking the mail this morning and I thought I would be safe.
I was wrong.
She rushed over to me clad in a t-shirt that said TEAM EDWARD in red letters. Rob Pattinson’s face stared back up at me from her stomach.
Yes.
It was the local crazed Twilight lady.
I had been trying to avoid her all week because I knew she’d want to talk all about how New Moon was opening.
A few weeks ago she even tried to give me a Twilight sweet tart with the word dazzle on it.
“No thanks,” I had said politely.
“But it says dazzle!” she squealed as though that made all the difference.
I sometimes wonder if she’s all there. I mean, she’s in her thirties and she still walks around wearing Twilight characters on her clothes. And okay, I guess there is nothing really wrong with this. She’s not hurting anyone, right? It just doesn’t make sense to me is all.
“Guess what?” she shouted and did a little bounce.
I blinked as I pulled out my mail.
“Hello?” she said, waving a hand around my face.
I shook my head. “Sorry. I’m a bit distracted. It’s hard to carry on a conversation when Rob Pattinson is staring up at me from your chest.”
She laughed. “Silly! This isn’t Rob Pattinson. It’s Edward!”
See?
Not. All. There.
“Guess what?” she tried again.
“What,” I said blandly hoping that she’d get the hint that I was not interested. (I think this is my main problem with the rude Twilight Crazies. They seem to think that because THEY enjoy Twilight that everyone else must too. I have a lot of friends who would consider themselves to be a Twilight Crazy but they don’t shove it in my face because they’re respectful.)
“I saw New Moon! It was fantastic! I have to tell someone all about it!” Rude Twilight Crazy gushed.
I sighed. “I’m not interested.”
“It was a beautiful movie and oh my Gosh, that Jacob is incredibly hot. The Volturi are frightening and…..”
She prattled on and on. Was she deaf? What part of NOT INTERESTED did she not comprehend?
I wish that I could just turn and walk away when people talk about things that I don’t care about. But I’m too polite. So I stood there and listened to her entire spiel about Bella and Jacob and “oh my God, I’m still wondering if Rob and Kristen are actually dating. They were spotted holding hands on the tarmac, you know.”
When she was done, she looked at me expectantly.
“What? Is my shirt bugging you again?” she asked jokingly when I didn’t say a word.
“A little,” I admitted. I can’t take Rob seriously as Edward.
This icon sort of sums up how I feel:
(Here's another one for good measure:
I did not make these by the way.)
“You’re going to be bitten by the Twilight bug someday!” she sing-songed at me.
I flipped through my mail. Yay, the newest Parenting when the Gymboree coupon inside came.
“I doubt it. As I’ve told you before, I enjoyed the books—” I began.
“That’s where the obsession starts!” she said with a sharp nod.
“And I moved on,” I added firmly. “These days I’m reading books about human beings, you see.” I gave her a thin smile. “Well, I should get home.”
“I’m going to see New Moon again tonight!” Twilight Crazy shouted at my back. “Are you going to see it?”
“When the hoopla has died down. I don’t want to be in the theater with the teenagers screaming over Edward,” I shouted back.
“The shouting makes it fun! You should have heard me last night!” she yelled.
See?
I tell you.
Not. All. There.
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