Twilight Chapters 7 and 8

Chapter 7- Nightmare

The only nightmare here is this book series.

I picked up a CD that Phil had given to me for Christmas. It was one of his favorite bands, but they used a little too much bass and shrieking for my tastes.
Lol it's probably The Who. That Roger Daltrey really is the Antichrist.

By the third time I'd listened through the
CD, I knew all the words to the choruses, at least. I was surprised to find that I
really did like the band after all, once I got past the blaring noise. I'd have to
thank Phil again.
WHO CARES? WHY ARE YOU STILL TALKING ABOUT THIS?

Omg! Bella dreams that Jacob has turned into a wolf! WHAT COULD THIS POSSIBLY MEAN? I remember being 100% sure that Jacob was a werewolf and then when I started New Moon I was baffled to realize that no one knew yet. This is the worst example of foreshadowing I have ever seen ever in literature, and I have read a lot of books.

I rolled back over and
unbuttoned my jeans, yanking them off awkwardly as I tried to stay horizontal.
Racy.

With another sigh, I turned to my computer. Naturally, the screen was covered in
pop-up ads.
"I clicked on a popup and got caught in a pornado!"

Vampire.
It took an infuriatingly long time, of course. When the results came up, there was
a lot to sift through — everything from movies and TV shows to role-playing
games, underground metal, and gothic cosmetic companies.
Duh, that's why you use Wikipedia or Occultopedia, DUH.

Then I found a promising site — Vampires A—Z.
Does she know how the internet works? I doubt there is a site called Vampires A-Z because that is the stupidest thing ever.

Infodump alert. Smeyer goes on and on about different vampire myths and shit and you can tell she just copied and pasted from the internet. This chapter reads like my really bad NaNo chapter (Chapter 6) where I got really bad writer's block and just copied and pasted a bunch of stuff about like, panspermia, Men in Black, and David Icke from Wikipedia. I hate that chapter, and so I hate this chapter.

I don't get Bella's thought processes here. It seems like she literally has no prior knowledge of vampires. She knows that there are things called vampires but she has no other information, which is why she's doing all this research.

Bella's all, "None of these myths coincide with what I know about the Cullens." You know why that is Bella? THE CULLENS ARE NOT VAMPIRES. They are sparkly little fairies who live forever.

And then another problem, one that I'd remembered from the small number of
scary movies that I'd seen and was backed up by today's reading — vampires
couldn't come out in the daytime, the sun would burn them to a cinder.
COMMA SPLICE.

Blah blah blah blah blah.

Most of the young romantic he'd been in those days had faded
before I'd known him, as the curly brown hair — the same color, if not the same
texture, as mine — had dwindled, slowly revealing more and more of the shiny
skin of his forehead.
Somehow I imagine Charlie as that weird pastor who looks like Burt Reynolds in Dark Dungeons. Further solidifying my belief that Chick Tracts are a large influence on Smeyer's work.

"I never noticed before — your hair has red in it," he commented, catching
between his fingers a strand that was fluttering in the light breeze.
Lol and EDWARD IS WATCHING THE WHOLE TIME. CREEPY.

"I mostly worked on my essay." I didn't add that I was finished with it — no
need to sound smug.
Too late for that.

"Wednesday?" He frowned. "That's not good… What are you writing yours on?"
"Whether Shakespeare's treatment of the female characters is misogynistic."
Fuck you. FUCK YOU. When I was in grade 9 I wrote an essay basically the same as this, except it was the women in Julius Caesar in particular. Although...good to know I'm apparently smarter than Bella is.

I was glad to leave campus, so I would be free to pout and mope before I went
out tonight with Jessica and company.
I fucking hate Bella. Just throwing that out there.

Now Bella is reading Jane Austen outside and EDWARD IS WATCHING THE WHOLE TIME.

"Well, okay." He seemed to realize that he was out of his depth with the girlie
stuff.
It's spelled girly.

I dressed for the warmer weather in a deep blue V-neck blouse
— something I'd worn in the dead of winter in Phoenix.
We all know how Edward loves those sexy V-neck t-shirts.

Chapter 8- Port Angeles

Jess drove faster than the Chief, so we made it to Port Angeles by four. It had
been a while since I'd had a girls' night out, and the estrogen rush was
invigorating. We listened to whiny rock songs while Jessica jabbered on about
the boys we hung out with. Jessica's dinner with Mike had gone very well, and
she was hoping that by Saturday night they would have progressed to the first kiss
stage. Holy shit, the FIRST KISS STAGE.

I smiled to myself, pleased. Angela was passively happy to be going
to the dance, but not really interested in Eric. Jess tried to get her to confess who
her type was, but I interrupted with a question about dresses after a bit, to spare
her. Angela threw a grateful glance my way.
Did Smeyer ever have girl friends? It seems she's resorting to female cliches and stereotypes.

The dress selection wasn't large, but both of them found a few things to try on. I
sat on a low chair just inside the dressing room, by the three-way mirror, trying
to control my fuming.
Again with the fucking 3-way mirror.

Rhinestone jewelry to match silver shoes. MATCHING JEWELRY. TO SHOES.

You know what? The rapists come, Edward saves her, they eat, Ed takes her home. The end.