The Reason Edward Can't Read Bella's Mind Is Because She Has No Thoughts

On a Monday night, movie theaters are filled with my favorite kind of people: procrastinators who love movies. With the work load Penn gets sadistic pleasure from doling out, I don’t have time to put down the books and hit the Bridge in the middle of the week, let alone on the night I need to compensate for a particularly hedonistic weekend. And yet that is what I did last night: against my better judgment, I decided not to write my papers, do my reading, or study for my tests; instead, I saw Twilight. Will I regret this decision come T-Gives, when instead of seeing all my friends from home I am glued to my computer?

Hellz no.

Here’s the thing about Twilight. It’s hilarious. I spent two hours trying, and failing, to keep the volume of my laughter down, and fighting off muscle spasms caused by said laughter-stifling. I haven’t had such a good laugh since I watched Pierce Brosnan try not to throw up during his musical numbers in Mamma Mia! What with finals coming up, it was much appreciated.

The worst (best?) part of it is that Twilight takes itself really seriously. I mean reeeeeally seriously. Who can blame it, with gazillions of pre-pubescent girls literally begging vampire hottie (I’ve been told...personally, the cold-to-the-touch, befanged thing doesn’t really appeal) Robert Pattinson to bite them? And how could Twilight’s ego not get over-inflated, when deluded fans the world over are hailing it the next Harry Potter (to which I say: dream on. HP 4eva)? But reality check, Twilight: you’re not as hot as you think you are.

First of all, Edward, the aforementioned vampire heartthrob, does not understand how to avert his eyes. He looks up, sees pretty girl (apparently...I don’t really get that one either) Bella, gasps loudly, looks down jerkily, gasps again, looks up, and the cycle repeats for around 45 painful seconds. Really Edward? Is an imitation of an awkward teen in an after-school special really the best you can do?  Bella (Kristen Stewart) isn’t any better: she has actually elevated the act of inexplicable heavy breathing to an art form. Plus, she wants to drive to Russia from London. Good luck with that, K! (PS, England is an island. That’s why Letterman was laughing at you).

I'm also flummoxed by the idea that two people who are both utterly bereft of personality can be so intensely drawn to each other. It’s unrealistic. Girls who can’t express a coherent thought and guys who talk like they’re still living in 1918 do not have passionate romances. Forget the whole vampire thing: it’s the absurd central relationship that calls for the real suspension of disbelief. And yet is this so-called sexual tension (another Twilight myth I’m totally sure was started by the CIA in an attempt to get unsuspecting citizens to shell out 10 bucks) that has caused premature surges in the estrogen levels of America’s tweens. Oh, tweens. You have so much to learn about fictional romances. Just wait till you meet The Way We Were. Then you’ll know what’s what.

I used to be pissed that Twilight was taking over the free world, but now I couldn’t be happier. There’s nothing I love more than smugly judging pop culture crazes; Twilight is, to steal a line from the movie, my own personal brand of (pretentious) heroin.

Yes, that’s actually a line from the movie. Feel free to LOL. I know I did.