Spoiling the Sparkly

Or, "How My Pure Hatred of All Things 'Twilight' Is Ruining My Personal Relationships"

"Twilight" is, of course, old news now. It's on DVD. There's a spot-on analysis of the movie in Bitch magazine. The fans of the book series who are still speaking to me have read those novels twice each.

Yet, no matter how old it gets, I still manage to rumble with people about both the books and the movies.

These are the facts:

1. "Twilight" makes being a damsel-in-distress sexy again. Being a stalker apparently works, too.
2. I subscribe to the belief that a girl in a vampire story ought to know where the holy water at.
3. I miss "Buffy" so very much.
4. Shut up, "Twilight."

Now, this evening's "Twilight" showdown had nothing to do with feminism and the social implications of the popularity of the books and the movie. No, this time the argument was about storytelling and spoilers.

I admit I spilled the beans about the last scene to a friend who had never seen the movie before. I said [SPOILER ALERT!], "Yeah, they go to the prom, and she's like, 'Oh, make me like you,' and he's like, 'No,' and she's like, 'Yes,' and he's like, 'No,' and she's like, 'You'll totally make me like you because that's what I want,' and he's like, 'No,' and she's like, 'Totally.'"

This did not strike me as terribly spoiler-tastic. I didn't even mention the part where our heroine [SPOILER ALERT!] gives birth to a litter of kittens. However, my friend was angry I would spoil the story with the revelation that the two leads make it to the prom.

I will also admit that it was naughty, at best, for me to reveal that much. However, I argued that a movie like that can only lead to the prom. After all, it's a teen romance told from the perspective a girl who's in love with a vampire who [SPOILER ALERT!] sparkles. Pretty dresses and slow dances are inevitable.

In fact, I would continue to argue--and I did--that you can tell where most movies are going from the first 10 minutes of images and dialogue. There are no new stories, really, only potentially innovative ways of telling them. You know some folks are going to die when you watch the creepy visuals at the beginning of a slasher movie. You know some folks are going to die and those deaths won't be amusing when you hear the reverent strings at the beginning of a political figure's biopic. And so I didn't think it would be spoiling the narrative flow of "Twilight" too much if I made fun of that conversation at the prom. I mean, I didn't even disclose the fact that [SPOILER ALERT!] Edward Cullen robs a bank wearing a Nixon mask.

None of that matters, though. The fact remains that "Twilight" is not only destroying any hopes I had for a substantial new wave of feminism for the 2000s, but it's also transforming me into a monster to my loved ones. I just can't make myself be a good, non-spoiler-y, Byronic-hero-appreciating person whenever someone mentions this... phenomenon. And how do I even begin to ask for help with this kind of problem?

Oh--and shut up, "Twilight."

Ask Stephanie's Cat When He's Balancing On Top of the Door

Stephanie's cat has been avoiding the advice game for nearly a year now. However, the approach of spring has reminded him of two pertinent issues:

1) the potential for love to blossom like so many allergy-inducing flowers and

2) taxes.

Dear Asta: Why does tax season have to be so difficult? I can't keep all these forms and charts straight! Which tax service do you recommend to untangle this mess?--Fed Up with Fed. Taxes

I can jump. I can jump up and high. I can jump on your bookshelf, and then I can jump on your door. Look at me on top of your door. Look. I can keep my balance. I purr when you look at me. Do not move the door. I can hold on if you move the door, but I cannot purr. I can pretend I can take a nap up here. Do not move the door. Do not stop looking at me.

Dear Asta: Why don't men return calls when they say they will? And what's with the slow fade--you know, that thing they do when they act like they're really interested in you then disappear? I'm so tired of this kind of disappointment. Is dating really this hopeless?--And Don't You Dare Suggest I Read He's Just Not That Into You

When I am on the door, I am brave and strong. I look at you from high above the carpet (which I like to scratch and sniff). I purr. You smell familiar, and I purr some more from up here. If I wobble, you will try to catch me. But I can keep my balance. I purr. I can jump down from here, and then I can jump back up again. You smell familiar, even from up here. Reach up and pet me. Look.

The Year Without Wal-Mart: Day 77

We've known this terrible news for a while now.

I understand that most of the world has moved on to digital images that can be snapped and replicated like so many viruses. Still, I complained about the high price of Polaroid film at Target. How dare anyone charge me nearly $20 for 10 potential photos? I believe the old-timers would call that "highway robbery."

Imagine the complaining I did when those square boxes of film completely disappeared from the Target shelves.

When you're done imagining that, deal with the near-horror of my discovery that Wal-Mart carries Polaroid film. And they haven't slapped a hefty price on those boxes of uncaptured memories. It's all there--a land of old-school-photo plenty. Yes, I could order Polaroid film in bulk on the Interwebs, but that would get expensive. Also, I have an unhealthy distrust of online sellers. And did I mention the Wal-Mart is right there?

So, do I tie myself to the mast and resist the siren call of Wal-Mart's low, low prices? Or do I give in--just this once--so I can hold on to a beloved tradition for a moment longer? What would Andre 3000 do?

Nerd Holiday #1: The Ides of March

On "Xena: Warrior Princess" Julius Caesar (Karl Urban) crucifies our heroine twice--three times if you count that time he urges the Fates to change his destiny and creates an alternate universe. (And I definitely count that time.)

Karl Urban's hotness made me wonder about the actual Julius Caesar. Turns out the real Caesar was 56 years old--and not a well-muscled, Karl-Urban-esque 28 years old--when all those senators ganged up on him. It also turns out he and Cleopatra could have been guests on "Maurius Povichius" in order to prove the paternity of Ptolemy Caesar, who would have been emperor of Rome if Julius Caesar had claimed him.

According to Greg Woolf's Et Tu, Brute?, Caesar's assassination reveals a great deal about culture and the transfer of power in the Roman empire. Caesar's death is not extraordinary, but it resonates because it marks the beginning of the end of the Roman empire-- a world characterized by rulers' constant struggle for both relevance and survival (which ultimately became synonymous).

To commemorate the life of a man whose death was extraordinary enough to garner the attention of Shakespeare, Rob Tapert, and Sam Raimi, I say let's celebrate the Ides of March. While you may find it tempting to celebrate the Ides of March by eliminating the "dictator for life" in your part of the empire, it may be more fun (and legal) to pretend your patterned sheets are "togas of manhood" while watching all those "Xena" reruns starring Karl Urban as Caesar (not Cupid).

Happy Ides of March! And watch your back...

Who Watches the Watchmen? (Or, The Ypsilanti Horror 2: Lights Out)

Well, I tried to watch "Watchmen."

Imagine. The Comedian has been murdered, and the police have no idea who committed the crime. Rorschash's face is creepy as he investigates the matter. The Doomsday Clock is creeping ever closer to midnight, and third-term President Nixon is fully prepared to annihilate the Soviet Union. Dr. Manhattan's penis glows blue--even on Mars. And Miss Jupiter, daughter of the Silk Spectre, is also the daughter of--

The screen goes blank. There is no hum of movie screening machinery, and the dimmest version of the theater lights come up. Some of the audience members leave only to return with the news that the rest of the theater has gone dark. "Maybe we should just wait here," someone said. Fifteen minutes pass without a word from the theater staff. Thunder rumbles overhead, and we strain to listen to the aggressive patter of rain against the roof.

Finally, a staff member emerges from the darkness to say, "You can wait here, even though we don't know when the power will be back. Or you can wait in line at customer service." The line in front of that counter winds all around the darkened concession stands.

And so we run. We venture into the storm and slowly follow the dark streets. An empty police car blocked the entrance to the theater. The grocery stores, the gas stations, the restaurants--none of the lights areon. Lightning zips across the sky.

Then the power comes back. We are already back at the apartment by then, and there will be no more going out in that storm.

Now, in the sobering light of day, I wonder how "Watchmen" ends. Does that Doomsday Clock strike 12? Will Dr. Manhattan abandon us? How does Miss Jupiter wear that costume without getting a yeast infection? And why aren't any of The Comedian's jokes funny ha-ha?

New Orleans vs. Chicago - Part 4

Well, sure, you could call a trip to the World War II museum educational... if you're a warmonger. I am no warmonger, so I visited the Art Institute, where I observed centuries worth of human innovation and creativity.

In February, admission to the Art Institute is free, so my sister and I took our time exploring rich oil paintings from the Northern Renaissance and smooth bronze statues from the ancient world. Along the way, we ran into several burgeoning artists copying great paintings. And their work wasn't so bad.

Also, the lion statues outside reminded me of "Ghostbusters."



And French pastries don't hold a candle to the sweet top buns in Chinatown.

New Orleans vs. Chicago - Part 3

All I have to say to you Sam is, and what? Sure you could spend your time time-traveling yourself naked into the Newberry Library, but what a cold cold way to learn.

In New Orleans, you can find a better way. You can slip down to the World War II museum and wander around the exhibits about D-Day. You can see the planes and motorcycles they used, actually look at the contents of a soldier's invasion pack and see the Pacific theatre played out on an interactive map. And if you're like me, you can top it off with some delicious French pastries. That's right. There's history and yummy chocolate tarts.

So there.