I’ve decided that I’m going to transfer the blog posts that I liked from the Boddie site over to here before I delete it completely. Some of them I just tickled myself with and I can’t bear to part with them. This is one of them. This little piece, about showing love for other undead creatures besides vampires, is a segue into my Frankenstein parody that I wrote. Why should vampires get all the love? Edited to tone down the language a bit.

Don’t get me wrong. Being a fan is, well, fantastic (to be utterly uncreative and just downright lazy, granted in the amount of time it’s taking me to type this I could have thought up a better word than fantastic, oh well) but there are some googly-eyed crazies out there wearing “Edward Cullen is my Boyfriend” t-shirts. And people say I need to get out.

For those of you that don’t know, Edward Cullen (I think that’s his name, I guess it is, I don’t know, I haven’t read the books) is one of the main characters in Stephanie Meyer’s book Twilight and so on and so forth (there are more, I just don’t know the titles off-hand). It’s a vampire series that I have not read (because I didn’t state this fact already?). Why haven’t I read it? Because I read the back of the book. Don’t get me wrong…the last thing I want to do is bash another author (unless it’s absolutely rendered, those who spit on their fans, for instance), especially since I haven’t read her work. It’s not her writing that kept me away (obviously). The back read something along the lines of “I am this girl from somewhere, Edward is a vampire and he’s madly in love with me.” In a nutshell. And there it goes right back on the table from whence it came.

What happened to vampires that people actually feared instead of wanting to screw? Girls used to throw wreaths of garlic at them, now it’s their bra and panty set. What the hell? A vampire is a creature of the night, a being that is undead that rises from the grave to drain the blood from humans in order to survive. Oh my god, blood drinking zombies! *squee* Want to see my boobs?! It’s hard to pinpoint where our poor blood-sucking bastards were first literarily castrated but it’s just spiraled out of hand. I owe the makers of 30 Days of Night some gratitude for putting vampires back in their feral nature, even if it is in Alaska.

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