Bitten

Last year, my nose was well and truly buried in the Twilight saga. If you haven't read it, don't unless you've cancelled all your plans for the impending week. It is addictive! I stupidly went to see the first film on it's opening night; oh. my. god. If I thought I was any kind of crazed fan, I was severely mistaken. I could deal with the most unhinged of the audience being dressed in Twilight appropriate gear for the event (and I used the term appropriate lightly; I don't think it's appropriate to go out in public in full on TEAM EDWARD outfits, but once the lights dim in the cinema, I suppose it's permissible). What I couldn't deal with was the screaming; screaming when Edward was about to come on screen, hysteria when there were Edward close ups, and just general delirium throughout the showing. This year, some sense has been knocked into me, and I plan to go at a much more modest time on Tuesday. I shall report back, but suspect I will be somewhat late to review the film. The box office records have gone through the roof, and it sounds as if the world and his wife have already witnessed some vampire frolics.