Top Ten Signs that You are Too Big of a Twilight Fan

So, I'm a Twilight fan. I'll admit this. However, I feel that being a fan means being labeled as a fanatic (which there are several out there) and I do not believe I am one of "those" kind of girls.

Therefore, it is important that we define what is crossing the line. Here's a helpful guide.

10. You own/speak to a life sized cardboard cutout of a Twilight character.

9. You can quote whole passages by memory, and you insist on being costumed while you do so.

8. Any spoof of Twilight/New Moon is extremely offensive to you and causes you to write angry letters to obscure independent film makers.

7. You have ever compared Stephanie Meyer to the likes of Tolkien, C.S. Lewis, Charles Dickens, or J.J. Abrams.

6. You went to the movies more than one and are over 35 years old.

5. You've created your own Twilight Role Playing Game.

4. You only date Robert Pattinson look-a-likes (pale, stick insects with bird's nest hair)

3. You quiz your kids nightly about Twilight book and movie trivia.

2. You write Twilight fan fiction (what if Edward dated Victoria?!)

1. You find gospel analogies within the pages of the Twilight saga.

By the way, if you want one of the greatest laughs of your life, watch Twilight with rifftrax

along with it.

My Favorite Valentine's Memory

In the past, Valentine's Day has been a bit of a bitter day for me, usually filled with an unhealthy dose of sarcasm. I'm proud to report that this year I felt this strange sense of contentment. Perhaps it was because I was surrounded by great gal pals (it's very easy to think of oneself as a strong, single woman when hanging around several strong, single women).
Though there were some fantastic events that helped as well.
First, Saturday afternoon my friends (Mallory, Julianne, Jenni, Christina, and Megan) and I went to see "Young Victoria" (which is a great love story, by the way). Afterwards we went to one of my favorite restaurants, Gloria's Little Italy. The sad thing was that Gloria's had replaced their regular menu with an exclusive Valentine's Day menu. The only option was to get a 5 course meal for $30. Not my style. We just got dessert, and this dashing, young violin player came over to us (there were only three other guests at the time). He asked if we had any requests, to which I promptly replied, "I Will Survive" (in a very tongue-in-cheek manner). Go figure, he actually played it for me. I had to hum the beginning for him, but he did the rest. Isn't that so cool?! He let us make a few more requests, but put his foot down when "Single Ladies" was mentioned. I left him a tip when we were done.
Yesterday, my friend McKay brought me several valentines. He is extremely gifted when it comes to using a computer, and has a tradition of creating valentines that incorporate his face into pop culture images. I've decided to post a few of my favorites. Anyway, catching up with him made my day, and the valentines were just icing on the cake.
I hope that everyone had a great Valentine's Day, whether it was spent with someone you love or on your own.

Dear Diary,

So, I've been sitting here for the last half hour, puttzing around on the computer and feeling very frustrated that I don't have a place to express myself completely. I mean, sure, there's Facebook (but about 30 of my former students are my "friends" on there). There's also Twitter (but my friends on there mostly all know each other, so there's no such thing as private venting). And then there's this blog (which who knows who in this world might be checking out at any time?!)
Moral of the story is that there are all these venues, and still no way to get out frustrations.
Then I realized, that's what diaries and journals are for.
That might sound completely ridiculous to you, because you probably write in your journal three times a day and even have a special room in your house for all your old journals. Such is not my case. I have a journal. It sits right next to my bed, a good holder for my tv and dvd remotes.
The extra sad thing about my journal is that I usually only write in it when something awful happens to me or someone I love. My nieces and nephews will glance through them after I die and think my life was crazy tragic, or something. Which is not the case, if you were wondering.
I just thinks it's interesting that as a culture, we have all this access to technology that is supposed to bring us closer together, and yet I feel much more isolated sitting here at my computer.
Don't get me wrong, this isn't a "woe is me" sort of post. It's mostly a "reflecting on life's situations" kind of post. Texting has replaced phone conversations with loved ones (which allow you to actually hear someone's voice) while instant messaging has replaced our need to have face to face communication with our friends. I won't lie, Facebook helps me keep "in touch" with several friends who I don't normally hear from. I would just rather get together more often.
Anyway, enough said. Venting over. Well, at least as much as I can do on here. Now, where did I put my pen?

I'm Not Josie Grossie Anymore!

Or maybe I am, just a little. . . still.
When I first saw the movie "Never Been Kissed" and the character of Josie Gellar in high school, I thought I was looking at a recording from my middle school years. I was Josie Grossie back then,with my hair hanging in clumps and my bangs covering my right eye.
I'm willing to admit this because I feel like I've come a long way since then.
At least I did until just recently. You see, I went to a masquerade ball this last weekend. It was a lot of fun last year (I blogged about it then) and I decided I wanted to find an amazing gown for this year's ball. I ordered it online to be custom built to my measurements. And I wanted it dark green.
When the dress arrived, it was not even close to dark green. In fact, this odd green/red combination was a bit hideous to me at first. Also, I had asked for cap sleeves, and got puffy ones instead. When I put it on, the first thing I thought was "Oh no, this is Josie Gellar's dress." I then had to look it up on the internet to make sure I was thinking about her dress correctly.
I was.

The ball was a ton of fun, mostly thanks to Andy who was such a gentleman despite my lack of ballroom dancing finesse. My friend, Ruth, had been taking pictures during the ball, and she showed me them afterwards when we all went to eat at IHOP.
From the angles she took the photos from (usually the front), I was horrified because I thought I looked like I was wearing an 80's prom dress.
Luckily, when I got back home and looked at my pictures of the evening, I was consoled. Though I still see similarities.














Moral of the story? Masquerades are fun and it's nice to grow up. At least a little.