Last night I saw that literary come cinematic phenomenon known as New Moon. After the disaster that was Twilight the movie, and after having attempted to reread both Twilight and New Moon and finding them both silly, I really didn’t expect the movie to be anything less than comical. In fact, I expected to feel some sort of shame sitting in the theater, so much so, that I actually went by myself to the theater, asking Montanna and Sophie to forego the experience. If it was going to be bad, at least I wouldn’t have witnesses who’d have to suffer it with me. Over all, I thought the movie was faithful to the book, almost exactly, actually. There were a few changes, most of them made for the transition from paper to screen, I’d say. I liked what I heard of the soundtrack, though I missed Paramore, who recorded to songs for the Twilight soundtrack. If you look at Stephenie Meyer’s playlists vs. the soundtracks, you can tell that she wasn’t the orchestrator of the soundtracks, which are less mellodramatic and kitschy. (Did I spell that last word correctly? I’m not pulling up dictionary.com, people, sorry.) My greatest criticism with the movie is this: Edward is not hot. I mean, Robert Pattinson isn’t the ugliest guy. He’s not ugly. He’s attractive. I just imagined Edward being, oh, I don’t know, DEVASTATINGLY GORGEOUS. It’s obvious that the girl grew up in Phoenix and Forks. You’d think she would’ve seen more attractive men in Phoenix; evidently, she didn’t. (Is ‘evidently’ a transitional adverb?) You can’t blame her for settling on Edward in Forks (if Edward did indeed look like a pale Robert Pattinson). OH YEAH, until Jacob Black shows up. Sheesh, woman. How could anyone be on Team Edward after seeing him manifest in that Lautner dude? In any case, wouldn’t the guy who plays Stefan in “The Vampire Diaries” make an infinitely better Edward? 
I think so. Women, are you with me?
On the subject of blood, I discovered last night just how much fun trying to get blood out of sheets and off matresses is. Sophie has nosebleeds. At night. Awesome. Hot water works wonders. So does, interestingly enough, shea butter hand soap. Additionally, when the stain reappears in the mattress, applying full strength hydrogen peroxide with a Q-Tip works wonders. Just thought I shared should any of you have occasion to remove large amounts of blood from something you can’t throw in the washer. Gosh, that makes me flashback to the scene in American Psycho where Patrick Bateman yells at the dry cleaner to get out the stains on his sheets, which are in fact blood that he tries to pass off as wine stains. Who spills that much wine in bed? And that makes me think back to Jim Carrey’s character, Carl, in Yes Man, who buys one of those Tempurpedic mattresses in order to put a glass of wine on one side and jump on the other side and see if it doesn’t spill. I’ve never actually recreated that ACTUAL experiment, but I can tell you that from other experiences, it probably does work. (By other experiences, I mean that I’ve actually poured a bucket of mud on a RainX treated windshield and saw it magically whisked away.)
Furthermore on the subject of blood, and probably since I’ve lost all men since I began that hideously long discussion about The Twilight Saga and stain removal, I don’t feel abashed in continuing on what seems to be a female-themed post. Periods. First, there were pads or pad-like things. Strips of animal hide attached to a belt. Absorbent fibers attached some sort of belt or underwear. Then, according to Wikipedia (yeah, why not?), tampons or tampon-like things emerged around 5th Century B.C. Great. Mass tampons were produced in the 1940s and the “digital tampon” (i.e. the tampon inserted with ones digits, erm, digit?) came about in the 1970s. So, the buck stopped there, it seemed. That’s a bunch of crap if you ask me. Tampons suck. I mean, they’re infinitely better than pads which are useful only if you’ve had a baby and are forbidden from using tampons. Still, tampons suck. Then, in 2007, a friend turned me on to InSTEAD (brand name). Oh, yeah. It’s not a pad. It’s not a tampon. It’s fabulous, if not a bit tricky to figure out at first. Women, investigate and liberate, eh? Godspeed.
