Okay Liz, you were so right to deny me your books. Fine. FINE.

If you’re wondering why I’m bleary-eyed and exhausted, that would be Stephenie Meyer’s fault. I have just discovered The Twilight Saga, and if you know what I’m talking about, you’re probably a teenaged girl. It’s a series of books about a girl who falls in love with a vampire and if you’re saying, “Wait a minute, Ali, that was a show and it was called Buffy the Vampire Slayer,” just hang on and hear me out. It’s not Buffy, but it’s sorta like Buffy which is maybe why I’m caught in its irresistible web. So caught, in fact, that I’ve been staying up till 2AM to read, which is where the exhaustion comes in.

These are the books that Liz thought about lending to me and then realized she just could not be parted from, so “sorry about that but get your own, baby.” And yes, she was absolutely correct to hoard them, yeah, yeah, whatever.

Now, I find that I do have some problems with this “love” story. Namely, that the hero of the piece is in a constant struggle not to chow down on the heroine of the piece. He’s a vampire, so basically when he looks at her he sees a big, old juicy Delmonico. And he’s ravenous. Now, maybe I have no romantic spark in me, but I just don’t go for love stories in which the guy has to constantly fight his own overwhelming urge to murder the girl. That’s not cool. That’s something that gets broadcast on the Lifetime channel. Were I in this situation, I’d point over his shoulder and say, “Is that the Red Cross Bloodmobile over there?” and then whoosh! my butt would be halfway to the nearest garlic field.

So I suppose it’s a testament to the author’s ability to weave a suspense story when I still can’t put the books down despite the fact that much of what the heroine says makes me shriek, “Oh, for pity’s sake!” right out loud, and most of what the hero says and does is creepy. Creepy like that scene in Silence of the Lambs that I refuse to watch where Hannibal Lecter escapes from the cage. Creepy like a Kiefer Sutherland movie marathon. Creepy like that look that Vincent D’Onofrio gives in Full Metal Jacket just before he shoots R. Lee Ermey. Also, the books are giving me nightmares, and yet still I cannot stop reading. Blast you, Stephenie Meyer!

Ahem. Now if you’ll excuse me, I have to go start the second book. There are some secondary characters that have the potential to be completely awesome, and I really do hope they turn out to be. And if these books sound intriguing to you, and you think you’d like to borrow them, well, sorry about that but get your own, baby.