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I’m glad they ditched the fog thing after the pilot.

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So, I feel like I should talk about the finale of Supernatural, but I was drunk at the time, so I can’t. I think my emotional journey went roughly like this:

YAY! OOOH? WHAT! WAIT? AHH!!!!!!! REALLY? OH NO YOU… ack.

At some stage, when I have gathered the fortitude (and interest) to watch it again sober, I’ll confirm that.

In the meantime, here’s my emotional journey for my new favourite show, Vampire Diaries:

!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

Man, I love that show. By which I mean I love Damon. I love him SO FREAKING MUCH, internet, that it hurts me on the inside. He is so campy and VAMPY and evil and delightful. And he has EYEBROWS and CHEEKBONES, and those are my FAVOURITE.

Unf. YES PLEASE.

As I have previously discussed, I was pretty much duty-bound to watch this show, and to enjoy it no matter how terrible it turned out to be. The original novels were not only my introduction to vampires, but to the supernatural in general and the love of angsty boys in particular, and if you think I didn’t read those suckers until the covers fell off, you’d be having some inaccurate mother-trucking thoughts.

Back in the early 90s — pre Buffy, pre real boys — Stefan was my boyfriend. I was young and stupid, and had not yet realised that my time should always be wasted on the bad boy with all the problems. Foolish, I know! Now all of Stefan and Elena’s interactions are spent with me hollering at my TV (well, my laptop, which is my TV) like so:

ELENA, WHAT ARE YOU DOING! HIS EYEBROWS ARE NOT EVEN EVIL! HE IS PROBABLY NOT EVER GOING TO KILL YOU ONCE HE HAS USED YOU UP AND DISCARED YOU LIKE YESTERDAY’S NEWS! WHAT IS EVEN THE POINT?? GIVE UP AND MAKE OUT WITH DAMON. MAKE. OUT. WITH. DAMON. MAKEOUTWITHDAMON!!!!

This is how they got me on Friday.

THIS SHOW IS JUST SUCH A GOOD TIME, Y’ALL. Everyone involved seems to be totally aware of exactly what they’re making, balancing camp and committed so perfectly that the whole crazy train wreck holds together in a way Glee could learn from.

Also, Jeremy Gilbert is the missing link between Wee!Sam and Padalecki, and that delights me in more ways than I can adequately justify.

Anyway, my point — should I decide to actually have one — is that yesterday I saw that LJ Smith has actually written another novel in the series. I came SO CLOSE to buying it, too, but then I found The Forest of Hands and Teeth for six bucks. SIX BUCKS! I’m glad today that I held out on that, because I don’t think my love for the books is going to stand the test of time the way my love for the characters has. I seem to recall them being all cool lips and silky sweet breath and a distinct lack of boning. Oh, teen novels of the early nineties! When blood-play was acceptable as long as nobody touched above the waist! Oh wait, this is still the case! And if young people should be so foolish as to actually have sex, even if they are married, they should immediately be destroyed by a magical demon-spawn pregnancy that ends in a DIY spine-crackin’, teeth-munching caesarean. TAKE THAT, TEENS.

So, okay, no. I don’t have a point. MAKE OUT WITH DAMON.

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Writer of things. Annoyer of cats.

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