A brief word about advertisements

If you are looking for bees, simply scroll down a little bit. 

Anyway.  I've added ads to my blog because one day I want to make money blogging so that I can stay at home and never change out of my sweats or go outside.  When you click on an ad, I do get paid.

However!  Don't just go clicking on them because you like me or, more likely, because you feel sorry for me.  That's called fraud.  Apparently. 

Only click on an ad that interests you, cause that's what they're for.

Here.  I drew this.

Who will win?!

This is why bees are murdering crack dealers. At least, I assume they are. It's inferred.

I have these ridiculous fears, sometimes fears that go all the way back to childhood.  Some of them developed completely randomly, like I wake up one morning and say to myself "today, I am afraid of (insert irrational object/place) for the rest of my life starting now and forever and ever shall I fear this thing forever.  Amen."  I'm always told to conquer my fears.  Yeah.  You wanna know who tried to conquer fear?  Abraham Lincoln.  And he's dead.  (At least I think it was fear he was conquering.  Or maybe the Confederacy....no.  Pretty sure it was fear.)

Traumatizing thing that scares me: Bees.

Bees are the Universe's way of telling me it wants me to die a slow, painful death.  I'm not allergic, so actually I probably wouldn't die if I ever were confronted by bees, but it's the principle of the thing.  I would feel like dying.  I shriek and cry every time I see one.  I hate all bees, including hornets and yellow jackets.  I know they aren't real bees, per se, but they're just as freaking terrifying, so I don't really know why there's a distinction.

And why are they called "bumblebees"?  That sounds adorable.  When I hear the word bumblebee, this is what I picture:

I am adorable because I am a bumblebee.

This is an actual photograph of a real, live bee:

I am a real bee.  I shoot lasers out of my antennae.  I will maul your family with my ability to kill you.

It's dangerous, calling this kind of monstrosity a bumblebee.  It's misleading and will probably cause death.  It's like if I called a grizzly bear a wugglesbear.  It's like saying boogleygator.  Or a great white I just want to love you shark.

When I was a kid, my family went to a park as a fun outing.  I don't remember the details of the day, except for sheer terror.  My brother and I took turns rolling down a hill.  It was very exciting.

Immediately traumatized.  Especially vivid in my memory is the image of several bees implanted in the skin of my waist.  They were out for blood, venom sacs pulsating rhythmically, each pump saying "Hello, I am currently poisoning you, please die now."  I screamed and I cried and I will never recover from the terror of that day.  B-day.  But...not like "Birthday."  I was making a clever reference to D-day.  But with bees.  Except...just the letter...  I swear I'm funny sometimes.

And you know what else?  Besides being absolutely horrifying, bees are liars.  They break their own rules.  I was older when I discovered this.  Now, when I was a kid of about ten, I thought I was so cool that ice was produced in my brain.  Except cooler than that.  Like, if my brain made ice, and the ice was magic and granted you three wishes, and one of those wishes was always one million dollars plus a pet velociraptor all in one wish and you still had two more wishes.  That's how cool I thought I was.

So one day I was entertaining a group of six year old children, telling them how brave and fearless I was.  My mother had tried to calm my fear of bees by telling me that if I didn't move, they wouldn't sting me.  I took that to heart.  I worshiped that rule.  I was safe from the tyranny of bees forever.  No bee could harm me!  This I explained to the wide-eyed children. 

Me: If you just don't move, the bees won't hurt you because they'll think you're a tree or something.  I don't know.  But they won't hurt you.
Kid: Really?  You aren't even scared?
Me: Nope!  I'm very courageous because bees will never get me.
Kid: Whoaaa, tell us all about how awesome you are!
Me: Well, I am so---

At this point, a bee landed directly on my finger.  I had been motioning grandly with my arms in order to emphasize how unbelievably awesome I was.  As the bee descended upon my innocent appendage, I shuddered to a stop.  Even my expression froze in place.  I was a statue, a heroic statue gazing upon the enemy.  I was confident.  I was going to win.  I was about to demonstrate my power. 

I stared at the bee.  It stared at me.  It had tiny little fangs and I'm pretty sure it whispered "I hate you and all that you stand for."  And then it stung me.  Twice.

I screamed and screamed and screamed and cried and cried and cried and had to be physically lifted off the playground, surrounded by a group of traumatized six year olds.

"WHYYYY!!??  WHY DID IT STING ME?!  WHY, I HELD STILL AND I DIDN'T MOVE *GURGLE GASP SOB* AND YOU SAID IF I DIDN'T MOVE IT WOULDN'T GET ME!!"

Bees aren't supposed to sting you if you hold still.  It's part of the bee code.  Everyone knows that "if you leave it alone, it will leave you alone" because "it's more afraid of you than you are of it." 

I just don't know what to believe anymore.

I haven't been stung by a bee since that incident, but I'm pretty sure my mind has dramatized the memory of pain to the point that if I ever were to get stung, I would go into shock and die, because that's exactly the kind of thing I associate with bees.  Shock and DEATH.

Hi. Please ignore me. I am a meaningless post.

V472VAXWHMUF

With this code, I will become famous and RUL TEH INTERNETZZ@!

I've considered giving a peace offering to the Universe. Does that show weakness? Or is it my survival instinct?

My birthday was last Monday, and I had come home from my new dorm to sleep over on Sunday.  The plan was to return to school on Monday for the first day of class.  Which sounds like a pretty good plan until you consider the fact that I'm an idiot and was all "hey, you know what sounds like a good idea?  An accelerated Portuguese class at eight o' clock in the morning.  WOW GOOD IDEA."  So I'm all ready to leave my house at a ridiculously early hour, so as to make it to school with time to get ready for class and such.

As it turns out, there's this boy Doug who is somehow related to my mom's boyfriend in some obscure way.  He goes to the same school as me, so I'm set to give him a ride back since it's on the way.  Poor, poor Doug.  (He's not dead.  I didn't kill him.  Almost, but not quite.) 

I drive out in the wee hours of the morning, I'm all jabbering about how it's my birthday and OHEMGEEEE I'm 18 now, can you believe it DOUG?!  Also, Doug, do you KNOW how OLD I AM?!?!  GUESS, DOUG!  Just guess.

And he's being all politely interested as we zoom...right past the freeway entrance.  No fear!  I shall simply flip an innocuous u-turn up yonder!  It shall be a frolic!  A breeze!  Perhaps we shall laugh airily whilst our hair billows in the completely harmless wind which happens to be accompanied by rain and booming thunder!  Tra la la!

Ten seconds later, my beautiful car is totaled and Doug's all "AAAAAAAAAAAHHHH!" except he was too polite to do that so mostly inside his head he screamed "AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAHHH!" but what he said was "Um...it's not so bad."  What a guy.

Two policemen and an interesting phone call to my mother later, Doug and I are on our way to school again, but this time in my mother's car.  We dropped Doug off at his apartment, then I started to feel kind of odd.  And not odd in the normal way that I usually feel odd.  More like in a "Hmmm, I physically feel crappier than normal" kind of a way.  Neck, why won't you move properly?  Eyes, focus!  Balance, you seem to be even more absent than usual.  Methinks something is slightly off.  I expressed this concern to my mother, who promptly started driving in the opposite direction of my dorm room, and soon we ended up at a hospital.

We walked into the emergency room, and I was kind of disappointed because no one rushed up to me and started yelling "STAT!" like they do in movies.  I assume it's because I wasn't bleeding.  Except maybe in my brain.  But you can really see brain-blood right away, so the doctors were probably like:

Doctor 1: Hey, Richard, an emergency patient!  Hurry, get your STAT! ready!
Doctor 2: EVERYONE, PREPARE TO STAT!  Where is she bleeding?!
Doctor 1: Um well...oh I guess she isn't bleeding.  Maybe she's delivering girl scout cookies.
Doctor 2:  Oh!  I love thin mints.  Alright, false alarm, everyone.  Save your STAT!  No, Teresa, I said SAVE IT!  [Camera pans out the window to a scenic sunset] We don't need it...not today...not right now.  But there's always the threat of tomorrow.  [Theme music plays, credits roll, and they don't even show my visit to the E.R.  Those JERKS.]

(Doctors totally say STAT! right?  I feel like you can't say the word STAT! without caps and an exclamation point.  It would be a misspelling.)

Anyway, I very anticlimactically entered the Emergency Room and this lady took me to a room and pointed at a poster of a bunch of faces with expressions on a scale of happy to sad, which was supposed to indicate my level of pain.  She told me to tell her which face was most like my pain, and I was kind of confused because she could see my face better than I could, and if she wanted me to tell her which face matched, she could at least have given me a mirror or something.

So finally I get into my "room" and they made me lay on a hospital bed which was much less cool than you'd think.  Except maybe no one would ever think that was cool but me.  The guy in the room next to me was yelling and going "UUUNGHHH Aaaheihoi! Gurglejwoiphwoi!" and I felt the blood drain from my face because it occurred to me that they might put needles in me.  Like...an IV.  Or something.  And suddenly it didn't seem so bad that maybe I had a concussion.  A concussion isn't so bad, right?  It's just a little bump from the world to say "be more careful next time!  Here's a lollipop, kiddo!"

The nurses and doctors came in and out of the room for a while, and then a nurse came in and tried to make me wear a neck brace, but that didn't work out, partially because I didn't want to wear the "pretty birthday necklace" but mostly because the adult size didn't fit me.  So the nurse came back and strapped on a brightly colored child's size.  Apparently my neck is the size of a six year old's.  Good thing I went to the Emergency Room, or I would have never known that crucial fact about my neck.
The nurses and doctor were all very nice, and listened to me rant about how it was my birthday and AM I GOING TO DIE?!  Except I had more composure than that, don't worry.  Well, the wonderful staff gave me a little plastic tub full of birthday candy and goodies, and they all signed it.  It was a very nice little souvenir.

After that, a nurse pulled up the bars on my bed and pushed me in to the CAT scan room.  She wheeled me in and whispered "stay here."  At that point I was pretty confused and I wanted to whisper back "where am I gonna go?'" because I was wearing a neon neck brace and hospital gown, and I'm pretty sure that if I'd left the hospital that way, I would've been back PRETTY DANG QUICK.

Apparently nothing was wrong with my brain, and I was surprised they didn't mention the obvious crazy.  Maybe they were just trying to be delicate.  They did, however, ask me if I was pregnant at least three times.  Maybe they get a lot of pregnant chicks coming in for CAT scans.  I can understand that.  If I were pregnant, a CAT scan would be the first on my list of "things I should do."

My mother and I sat in my hospital room for an hour waiting for various paperwork and CAT scan results and such.  My mother walked up to my bed very nonchalantly.  That's how I knew she was about to do something crazy.  She looked out the open door, made sure no one was watching, and then gave the bars on the bed a violent shove.  And I was all "I'M SORRY ABOUT THE CAR" but it turns out she wasn't punishing me.  She was just fascinated by the bars.  She spent about twenty minutes yanking, shoving, and (my favorite) kicking the bars trying to get them to come down.  Meanwhile, I laughed hysterically.  Every twenty seconds or so, she'd look out the door at the nurse who obviously thought there was something wrong with us, and smile innocently.  And wave.  And stand awkwardly.  Born actress, that woman.

Four hours after coming to the hospital, I left, nothing whatsoever wrong with me except this horrible, terrible thing called "whiplash."  As long as I live, I will always hate whiplash.

I went home to my dorm, and then the ridiculous continued.  The next morning, I couldn't turn my neck, and therefore had to turn my entire body when looking at anything not directly in front of my face.  It was very normal and no one stared at me at all.

The next few days went like this: I lost the key to my dorm, lost the key to my mailbox, lost my school I.D. (which happens to be the only way to access my dining plan=NO FOOD FOR MEGAN), lost my class schedule, lost my campus map, got lost after an evening class on campus as a result, wandered around for two hours, seriously considered sleeping on the concrete all night, dragged my aching body back and forth from my dorm to the last place I'd seen my keys over and over, and then finally had someone working in my dorm let me in my room.  Then I paid for all new keys and I.D., only to receive a message from a very nice person saying "HEY I FOUND YOUR STUFF" and so now I have copies which is cool except they're changing my locks just in case a psycho had found my keys and tried to break in and steal all the Capri Sun from my mini fridge.  Also, my computer decided to refuse to connect to the internet, despite the purchase of an expensive anti-virus program and an ethernet cord, because I need to "update" my computer, so I DOWNLOADED EVERY STUPID UPDATE and it still doesn't work.  Then I got offered a much needed job, had that job cruelly taken away from me by no fault of my own (for once) and did not get to ride on a unicorn.  Again.

I've come to the logical conclusion that I'm not very good at college.

This is why I never reply. Ever. Except for my own amusement.

I don't really like checking my email. I think email is very important, I wouldn't be able to function without it, but I have this problem. It goes like this.

First, I do something. It's always something seemingly harmless. I apply for something important. I email a person who I'd like to talk to. I sign up for the hourly official penguin newsletter. All normal, healthy investments of time. Then, I frolic about, thinking to myself "I can internet! I have this interneting thing in the bag! I'm inter-lectual!" My day continues on as normal. I read a few favorite blogs, I drink a few glasses of water, I try to incorporate the word "perspicacious" into everyday conversation, I make a few awkward and inappropriate comments on various Facebook walls...you know, just stuffz. By the time I go to bed at night I'm thinking "Email, you made my day awesome. I'm going to make an 'I HEART EMAIL' shirt. I'm going to wear it to the mall. Everyone will be jealous. Goodnight, email."

Oh, email. I love you, email.

The next day, I ignore email. It's wrong. It's insensitive. But I don't even think about email. I just look up pictures of cats and eat pizza.

Pretty soon, a few days have passed. I think to myself "I should check that one thing" but I don't actually follow through on that impression. I kind of get sidetracked. Of course, being me, a few more days go by. Suddenly, I haven't checked that email thing in several weeks. All of my important applications, all of my conversations, all of my hourly newsletters...suddenly, they evoke a strange feeling in me. The word "hourly" gives me a weird cringy feeling deep within my being. What made me think I could handle an hourly newsletter? Penguins? What?! I don't even LIKE penguins! They're creepy, and they live in the cold, and nothing should be that adorable!

I get this odd sensation. Not quite guilt. Not quite apprehension. I call it "crap, I bet when I check my email, I'll have things I need to do. THINGS."



Inbox: 256 messages

From: spammyspam@isuck.scam Subject: EARN 328974kajillion dollars!@
From: penguinsrcool@hourly.com Subject: Breeding patterns of penguins
From: personwhoknowsme@yay.com Subject: ...Are you dead? email me back.
From: penguinsrcool@hourly.com Subject: An Egg-tastic ice-capade!
From: importantcollegestuff@filloutthisform.com Subject: Yo, do this or you out, girl.
From: penguinsrcool@hourly.com Subject: Solving the flight crisis
From: penguinsrcool@hourly.com Subject: Penguin feather fashion 101
From: penguinsrcool@hourly.com Subject: Penguincide-we care
From: emailservice@mailymailmail.com Subject: Upgrade your inbox, fool.
From: emailservice@mailymailmail.com Subject: ...Um...there IS a delete button
From: taylorlautner@hotsexybody.com Subject: Hey, answer in ten and come chill!

Page: 1 Skip to page: 1, 2, 3, 4...23



I look at this and I cringe. So...read the email. Right. This is the point where my enhanced endurance kicks in and I'm all "alright email. Let's do this."


Spam: deleted!
Penguins: breeding, educated about!
Friend: ignored out of embarrassment!
Penguins: so cute!
College: form completed!
Penguins: flight crisis, noted!
Penguins: fashion forward!
Penguins: dead!
Email service: ignored!
Email service: double ignored!
Taylor Lautner: WAHHHAHAHIEONG!

Man, I am on a roll. That only took me twenty minutes! Awesome! I am a capable person! I am educated about penguin affairs! I am ready to take on the....wait...how many more pages? Um...well...gee. One page of email has been taken care of...I think that's pretty good. In fact, I'm hungry. Can't check email on an empty stomach, now, can I? And off I go to make dinosaur shaped chicken nuggets.

The next day, being all email-conscientious and whatnot, I decide to apply for some things, subscribe to another newsletter about current events, and you know what? Hey, Facebook, is there a way to be notified by email whenever anyone does anything on you that vaguely affects me? There is? Well heck, sign me up!

Days pass, weeks pass, and one day, I get that feeling again...that "awwww man. EMAIL." feeling.

Click, click, click...SHOOTDANG, YOU'RE KIDDING ME.


Inbox: 638 messages

From: currentstuff@probablytragic.com Subject: Obscure president assassinated-act now!
From: application@appsareus.com Subject: Maybe you want to apply for this too
From: penguinsrcool@hourly.com Subject: Krill is good for eating!
From: scamerificspam@virus.usuck Subject: FREE UNICORN!!!!
From: facebook@socialnetworking.net Subject: This person just said this thing about you
From: caringfriend@thoughtful.com Subject: Worried about you. Speak to me.
From: currentstuff@probablytragic.com Subject: Massive explosion-sign explosion petition!
From: penguinsrcool@hourly.com Subject: A penguin Hanukkah
From: facebook@socialnetworking.net Subject: This may have something to do with you.
From: collegestuff@gotoschool.com Subject: Expensive books that you need to have
From: currentstuff@probablytragic.com Subject: Iranian babies fed bad milk. ZOMG!

Page:1 Skip to page: 1, 2, 3, 4...58

......but.....but.....

Whaaaaa?

I stare at the computer screen for a moment, daunted by the immense task ahead of me. I curse myself for not having finished my email-management several weeks ago. I question my need for penguin news. I promptly decide that I require penguin news in order to live. Sighing, I gather up all the vestiges of focus floating around in my body and attack with surprising relish.


Current events: president, cared about!
Application: heck yes, I want to apply for that!
Penguins: krill, a good diet indeed!
Unicorn: virus, attained!
Facebook: oh no she didn't!
Friend: assurances, offered!
Current events: explosion, oh noes!
Penguins: culture, accepted!
Facebook: does not relate to me at all!
College: books, ordered!
Current events: NOT THE BABIES!!

And like a coiled viper, she strikes! On to page 2! You hear that, email? Take that! We are no longer friends, and look at me kick your butt. Bet you didn't see that one coming, eh, email? Bet you're shaking in your emaily-boots. Bet you're calling your email mommy and--Hey I'm hungry. Can't check email on an empty stomach, right? Past experience has taught me that much. Well! Chicken nuggets, ahoy!

And the next morning, I think to myself "Hey, I should probably get more email stuff going here! Newsletters!! I bet there's a newsletter about pharmaceutical malpractice! Yay!" and I DO IT. I SIGN UP. BECAUSE I'M A FOOL. Eventually this whole process degenerates into guilt and denial. I don't email people back because I'm scared of reminding them that they emailed me to begin with, and also that would remind them that I have a level of responsibility comparable to a five-year-old boy who refuses to bathe. I pretend that my email isn't a problem. I grieve over that ever-growing pile of data, filling a tiny corner of the internet with useless junk that even I don't care about enough to read. At this point, I have two correspondences that I actually keep track of, one being an important person out of state, the other, an important person out of the country. I brace myself on appointed days when I know they will email, and dive into the sea of endless crap, typing and clicking as fast as my brain and dexterity will allow.

At this point, I even dread opening my email inbox. It taunts me. One day, one glorious day, I shall vanquish this foe. Until then, I'll probably just keep surfing the internet aimlessly, signing up for newsletters that pertain to absolutely nothing I want to know anything about. Kind of like this blog. Suck it, emailz.

Annoying stuff that I'm going to rant about, even though I do them all the time. Which is probably why they're so obnoxious to begin with.

There are always these things that people do and I'm all "GAR HOW DARE YOU DO THAT THING THAT IS BOTHERING ME!!!" and then whoever is doing that thing looks at me like I'm crazy just because I'm yelling and sound vaguely like a grizzled pirate. This post is about a few of those things.

1. People who are obsessed with magical unicorn sparkles

This is point number one on the case to get me kicked off the internet, since I'm totally obsessed with magical unicorn sparkles. AND THEREIN LIES THE PROBLEM. See...not everyone can love rainbows and princesses. If EVERYONE did, I would look like a stupid poser. I practically invented unicorn-obsession. I have a reputation to protect.

You see, I love glitter. It's my favorite color. I want a pet unicorn. I do. I do so bad. But then some special little...GIRL WHO ACTS LIKE ME comes along and guess what her favorite color is? It's glitter. And how many times has she tried to order a baby unicorn online? 56 times. Which is one more than me. And immediately, I think "you're going down, you fool."



Oh. It's on.

Not. Cool. Get your own interests, kid.
You threaten a six-year-old ONE TIME and suddenly you're not allowed near the children or kool-aid. Whatever.

2. People who awkwardly look at me while I'm driving


I do this all the time. I mean ALL the time. There's hardly anything interesting about other people when they're driving, but if someone magically summons a dragon while driving in the lane next to me, I WANT TO KNOW ABOUT IT.

I just don't like it when people do it to me, because if I actually knew how to summon dragons in my car, I wouldn't HAVE A CAR. I'd have a magical flying dragon. So you don't have to look at me. Nothing going on over here. Except that I think you're laughing at my hair. It's not THAT bad, okay?

And people who watch me while I drive make me feel...uncomfortable. It's like they're waiting for me to kill a pedestrian or forget to use my blinky thingy. (Blinky-majig? Blinkermatron? ...Whatever.)

WHY ARE YOU STARING AT ME?! CAN'T YOU SEE THAT I'M UNSTABLE AND AM ALREADY IMAGINING FIERY DEATH AS A DIRECT RESULT OF YOUR STARING, PROBING EYES?! IT'S LIKE THE ANGEL OF DOOM IS EYEBALLING ME IN THE NEXT LANE.




3. People who overreact.

Do I overreact? Never. Except for that one time when my brother and his friend were fighting over a lollipop and it got stuck to my forehead and I started crying in the backseat of the minivan. Or that time when this kid was at my house and he shot a rubber band at my leg, and I immediately started screaming, and, through my tears, I ordered him to leave my house forever. Or that night when I accidentally set the oven on fire making bagel bites, so I sent a bunch of delirious texts to my friend Braeden about how I was going to die and HELP ME FOR THE LOVE OF ALL THAT IS HOLY. I may also have called him, but I don't remember. (In retrospect, maybe that one wasn't an overreaction.)

But when OTHER PEOPLE overreact, I'm suddenly the Superman of All Things Ever. I'm all "Psh! A spider on the wall? I squish wall-spiders every Thursday afternoon, right after swimming with Great White Sharks but before fire-eating practice. You weak, puny, human, with your irrational fears and weak puniness."




4. Blurry pictures drawn on paint

......moving on.


5. People who get grumpy for no reason


My feelings are tender. When people are grumpy, it makes me want to cry. And shoot them in the head with a machete. And since that's impossible, I want to cry even more. And then nobody is giving me diamonds, and I'm not watching a Disney movie, and the grumpy person IS STILL GRUMPY and I'm all "SHUT UP, I HAVE PROBLEMS TOO, YOU KNOW."

I get grumpy when I'm tired. Or hungry. When I'm tired AND hungry? Well...



But is it ever okay for other people to be like this? The answer to that is a firm and resolute no. Absolutely not.

When other people are in a bad mood, I have to be all considerate and crap. And even if I am considerate, a grumpy person doesn't care. Dude. I'm *never* considerate. BE HAPPY.

Also, I'm socially incapable, so I'm likely to say something like "Yeah? Well I don't care if you've had a bad day, HOW WOULD YOU LIKE TO BE KARATE CHOPPED IN THE CALF MUSCLE??! HEYAHHHH!" And then I have no friends again.



Another thing I hate is writing when I don't feel like it.



I'm very sure I'll add more to this list...eventually. I hate deadlines.

Twilight: I'm gonna do you a favor, and you can just read this instead.

Skipping the preface, cause it's crap. Basically Bella's all "Aaah! I'm gonna die and stuff!"

Anyway. So Bella Swan is this chick and she's totally not pretty, except she really is, she just thinks she isn't pretty, you know? Bella is also really awkward and clumsy, but it's stinkin' adorable. So anyway, she moves from Alaska or Argentina or something (I forget) and she's all bummed because her mom married a baseball player guy. It's really sad. But it's okay because her dad buys her a truck! And she really likes the truck, even though it's, like, ugly and stuff. It's red.

Okay so fast forward to the next day, Bella has to go to school and she's embarrassed cause her truck is TOTALLY loud. But it's okay because all the other cars are really ugly except for this really shiny Volvo car, and that's cool because a Volvo isn't even that great. So yeah, the truck totally still rocks. So then Bella goes inside and there's some dumb stuff with people or whatever, and this Mike kid really likes her, but then Bella sees this guy named Edward. Bella is really cute because she's so awkward and clumsy.

Edward is really dreamy sexy hot. Bella talks about it all the time, and he has glittering gold eyes that probably ooze unicorns, but Bella never mentions that. I bet it's true though. Bella can be so unobservant. Also, she's awkward, and pretty clumsy.

Edward doesn't really like Bella at first, because she smells YUMTASTIC and he wants to eat her. Because, guess what? This is the best part. You know dreamy sexy hot Edward? Well, surprise twist, he's a VAMPIRE! Only don't worry, he only drinks animal blood instead of human blood and for some reason that makes his eyes sexy hot gold instead of red. Because that makes sense. It's not confusing at all that the type of blood ingested correlates to eye color. I like to drink baby dolphin blood, and that's why my eyes are hazel. So anyway, Edward. He's also very graceful and stuff cause of his vampire powers, which is in direct opposition to Bella, cause she's really awkward. She's also incredibly clumsy.

Oh yeah, bad vampires have red eyes. It's not really important, but that's okay, it is because Edward and Bella are TOTALLY IN LOVE so shut up.

Anyway, so Edward saves Bella from a car that almost squashes her. Then Bella goes to Port Angeles with her friends, and she gets all lost looking for a book store (Bella is really smart, so she needs new books because she's, like...way smart and stuff and she's so DARN CUTE with her awkward clumsiness) and so since she's so freakin' pretty, some guys are all "AAH HEY WE'RE GONNA RAPE YOU!" except they never say that, but it's implied, although it could just be that they need directions to Walmart or the pet store.

So yeah, Edward shows up in his shiny Volvo, and he's really mad about those guys because HE CAN READ THEIR THOUGHTS. Which is cool, and also totally makes sense. But he can't read Bella's thoughts. Because that also makes sense.

So they go to this restaurant and Bella eats and there's a hot waitress and also something with ravioli. I didn't really pay attention at this part. But I think Edward didn't even care about the hot waitress, because that darn Bella is so endearing with her clumsiness. SHE'S AWKWARD. They talk about how Edward is a vampire, and he's all "Bleh! I'm a monster!" and Bella's all "whatever, dude" so that's good because Bella is just SO DANG unique, and because of that she isn't scared.

Then some stuff happens, there's baseball and thunder, because vampires like to play in thunderstorms or whatever. Also, Rosalie doesn't like Bella. Bella also acts clumsy and awkward, and all the boys think it's way hot. And that's about all that goes down, except that Edward and Bella fall mad-hot in love and they stare at each other in the eyes in a magical meadow. So yeah this part was really boring, and it talked a lot about innocence. And lambs. For some reason.

Then they're playing baseball, and these three bad vampires (you can tell because they have red eyes. Told you it was important) they show up and James is all "I'm totes gonna eat Bella!" and everyone's scared and stuff, because delicate Bella is really clumsy and can't defend herself. Then James beats Bella up in a dance studio, and bites her, but it's okay cause he dies, except we don't get to see him die, we just get to listen to Bella complain about being in pain and I'm all "BELLA you're so selfish and awkward! Why are you so clumsy? Why don't you pay more attention to the cool parts, like vampire dismemberment and death?!" So Edward, who is, like, crack-addicted to Bella's blood, somehow sucks all the venom out of her blood and doesn't kill her. Somehow. I'm sure there's an explanation for why that makes sense. ...Look, he's hot!

So Bella goes to the hospital, and then she goes to prom, and she's really awkward and clumsy. Did I mention that she's awkward and clumsy? It's really cute and endearing.

Bella wants to turn into a vampire at prom because she's an idiot and is all "YEAH MAKE ME HOT AND SPARKLY AND HAVE UNICORN-GOLD EYES!" and she's 17, so she's kind of predisposed to be an idiot. But since she's so vulnerable and cute, it's okay.

And that's the gist of Twilight. It is very romantic and action packed, if you like the sort of action that involves driving kind of fast and talking about innocence. And who doesn't?