Let’s see if you’re ever had this scenario from this fan letter go through YOUR mind before!
I’d like to invite you over for dinner at my house this Sunday. We eat around 1, but since my hubby doesn’t leave for work until at least 3, feel free to be late. Of course, my kids will be up until 8, so you may want to stop by for wine and dessert around 9. I know its a little odd to have a stranger invite you for dinner, but take a moment and ponder my reasons….
Although I’m a stranger to you, I feel like I know you already. I can’t go to the grocery and shop for cookie-dough ice cream, granola bars, or hamburger meat (note to self: meatloaf Thursday?) without your eyes following me around the store. You’re on the magazine racks, my favorite candy bars, and every school supply known to man. Everytime I relax in my comfy chair with my laptop, there you are – staring at me from my computer screen. Granted, that’s partially my fault for visiting all the awesome Twilight fansites on my favorties list at least twice a day – but I wouldn’t if I didn’t think you’d be there. I get in my little silver, um, minivan (my next car will be a Volvo) and there you are again, singing to me over my spiffy 8 speaker sound system. (By the way, what exactly are you saying?)
So although you don’t know me from Adam’s housecat, you can see that I spend almost all day, everyday with you in some way, shape or form. I figured you might want a chance to get to know me, too.
I don’t want you to think that I’m one of those crazy, chase-you-down-in-the-street, groping-screaming-yelling-camera-phone-wielding fangirls (I have a life and a husband and kids and live nowhere near LA or London, sigh). To put it simply, I’d love to just sit and watch you eat ice cream (from a cone) and share a bottle of wine (or 4) with you while we watch Chelsea Lately.
I want you to feel comfortable coming over for dinner, so here’s a little about me:
- I had no idea who you were before Twilight. Who am I kidding? I had no idea who you were even after I saw Twilight. I watched the movie with my hubby one night when all other options were terrible on Pay-Per-View. When you made your grand entrance in the cafeteria scene, I said “Look! It’s Bert!” (as in Bert and Ernie, from Sesame Street…it’s a children’s program…) Your unruly eyebrows distracted me during the scene in the woods (“Say it. Out loud. UNIBROW!”) But then, you snuck into that poor, unsuspecting girl’s room while she was chatting with her Mom in her underoos and just wanted to “try one thing.” My pulse raced, my stomach tied in knots. That was the hottest thing I’d ever seen. I was hooked.
I went to WalMart (it’s a discount store where Moms like to shop in their sweats) at 11 that night and purchased Twilight. I read it in one day. The rest of the series was quickly purchased, and after 5 days I had read them all and had 4 gallons of milk in my fridge. (I needed an excuse to go to the store other than, “Honey, I’m headed to wally-world to pick up the next book in the teenage vampire love story I’m reading, you need anything?”) In my mind, as I read, Edward was you…I’ve never had another. And even though you didn’t say half of those wonderful things that Stepenie Meyer had written, I suddenly found myself watching E! news to catch a glimpse of your dirty little face.
- I’m not into skinny, scruffy guys. My hubby is buff, and Italian – but not in a scary New Jersey way. He has color to his skin, and keeps his hair cut short. I love it when he’s clean shaven. Unfortunately, you ruined that for me. He still wonders why I no longer bitch about his over-abundance of flannel and his high-school baseball cap. I think it’s pretty obvious.
- I don’t want you in my bed. Nope. Not even a little. However, after finding fan fiction and the magic of photo montages on youtube, I’ve found that my “housework” time with my hubby has become more…uh, enjoyable? Let’s leave it at that.
So, Mr. Pattison, please consider my invitation to have dinner, or at least a nightcap, at my humble abode sometime in the future. I’ll even watch BBC with you, if you’ll just promise to run your hands through your hair at least once every 15 minutes.
One Bitten Momma
After the jump, enjoy a little Saturday surprise!
It wouldn’t be Saturday without a little Saturday Morning Delight now would it!?