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We received something amazing at the bookstore today. It’s a TWILIGHT JOURNAL box set of four blank books, with the same beautiful franchise covers on each one.

Isn’t that amazing? I mean – and I’m sorry to all the Twilight fans out there that are never going to read my comics again because of this, but – these JOURNALS have the SAME COVER that everyone judged to be good, withOUT the horrible writing inside! I want to buy one so bad except I cant justify giving more than a woeful penny to this money-making-monstrosity. I’ll explain my love-hate with Twilight at a much later date. Maybe after the homicidal rage subsides.

I flew into a trance at work, holding this journal boxed set, and I imagined what I’d do if I bought it. I’d tear off the condom looking shrink-wrap and violently claw off the tin, and then caress with the most gentle of gestures my first bound journal. I’d open it, stab a quill directly into an artery in my thigh, and start writing my own version of Twilight.

I’d never given much thought to how I would die – though honestly, I’d never given much thought to anything, ever. So when a deliciously gorgeous vampire AND a newly buff tayl Jacob Black both decided to fall in love with me, I thought sure, why not. My name is Bella Swan, and I guess I’m awesome.

by about this time I’d be getting woozy cus all this blood is flowin out of my left thigh, but I’d trudge through cus PSHH it’s just blood.

Hi journal, it’s Bella Swan again. So yesterday Edward and Jacob ran into each other while I was holding both their hands, and the most tragic thing happened. Jacob was all like, “WHAT THE BITCH IS GOIN ON”, and flexing his white teeth at Edward, who just hissed drooled at my bleeding thigh. And I was all like, “CHILL OUT guys, there’s enough of me to go around”, and they were all brooding and being stupid. To make them both feel better I decided to pretend to trip, so they both helped me up and they’re like “BELLA!!!!!!! ARE YOU OKAY?????” and I said “yes thank you, you’ve both saved my life”, and then they were happy and went home.

… by this point I’d be pale as a vampire and not making any sense anymore, so to quote you the last bit of my imaginary journal writing would be an x-rated’ly awful disservice to you.

’til next time.