My secret shame: I saw the new Twilight movie opening weekend. By choice.

On Friday night, I did something so ridiculously embarrassing that I spent the rest of the weekend hiding in humiliation.

I could blame my behavior on any number of factors. I could say I did it because I had a rough week, or because I was pressured into it, or because I was kidnapped and forced into it.

But none of those reasons are the truth. The truth is that I made my own decision, shameful as that is to admit. And now it’s time to face the consequences of what I’ve done. And if you judge me for it, well, I suppose I deserve what I get.

So I’m just going to admit to it.

I saw the new Twilight movie.

I did, however, have the sense to be embarrassed about it. There was no way that I wanted anyone to know that I was seeing it, especially less than 24 hours after its release.  And at least I didn’t go to the midnight showing Thursday night. I did do that for most of the Harry Potter movies, half because I was excited about the movies and half because I wanted to see all the dressed up freaks.

Granted, for Breaking Dawn, I WAS one of the dressed up freaks.

No, don’t worry, I didn’t wear a Team Edward of Team Jacob shirt. I despise the girls who have those shirts. I mean, you might as well wear a shirt that says Team Necrophilia or Team Bestiality.

Neither is particularly attractive in my book. Plus, Edward is supposed to be over a hundred years old and Jacob is like a teenager. Team Geriatrics or Team Pedophilia? We know which shirt Jerry Sandusky wears (too soon?), but I’m not into either.

I dressed up to make sure no one at the theater could possibly recognize me.

Doing that took some serious planning on my part. My first idea was to go movie-star incognito, with a big hat, scarf, and sunglasses, but I worried that might draw more attention to me. So that was out.

Then I debated wearing a full burka, but I also worried that would make people stare because what would someone in a burka be doing at the Twilight movie? Yes, the books were written by a Mormon chick and are therefore pretty conservative (Bella finally marries Edward to get him to sleep with her, then immediately gets pregnant with a demon baby and almost dies. I guess the sex ed teacher from Mean Girls was right. If you have sex, you WILL get pregnant and you WILL die), but I don’t think it’s quite conservative enough for orthodox Muslims. Plus, knowing my luck, someone would assume I was there enacting some fiendish terrorist plot because clearly all Muslims are terrorists, and I would wind up spending the entire two hours being detained by a movie theater rent-a-cop instead of watching Mormon-penned geriatric necrophiliac sex. No thanks.

My next plan was to get a Harry Potter invisibility cloak, but did you know those aren’t real? I’m very disillusioned right now. J. K. Rowling, you’re a horrible person for making things like that up.

I mean, I went online, ordered my official Harry Potter invisibility cloak, waited by the mailbox around the clock like I do when Springsteen tickets are on their way, got my cloak, put it on, and… was still completely visible. I want my $79.95 back. Biggest ripoff ever. Next you’re going to tell me that wizards aren’t even real. My official wand from Ollivander’s better work when it arrives or I’m going to stop loving all things Harry Potter for forever.

But with no invisibility cloak, I needed a new game plan to watch Twilight. And then it hit me, it’s DARK in a movie theater. I just needed to be darker than the dark. So I broke out full ninja gear and painted my face black, Zoolander-in-the-coal-mine style, and was ready to watch the movie.

Of course, I got some weird looks walking to the movie theater from the car, and some even weirder looks when my friends and I went out to dinner before the movie, but it was okay because no one knew it was me. They just thought I was some random crazy girl dressed in all black.

Or a crazy racist putting on a modern minstrel show. Oops. Didn’t think about that.

But I went through all that trouble to avoid being recognized, and didn’t even see a single person I knew. Because the people I know typically wouldn’t be caught dead (or undead) at the new Twilight movie opening day. I could have walked in looking totally normal and would have been completely fine and probably even less conspicuous than I was.

And in the end, the movie wasn’t even worth all the effort I went through to see it without being recognized.

I mean, the first three movies made such a big deal about vampires sparkling in sunlight (which is completely ridiculous. Everyone knows that sunlight kills vampires. Even freakishly prude Mormon vampires. Duh), then Bella and Edward get married in broad daylight with no sparkles in sight?

Come on. I can suspend my disbelief about the sun killing the Twilight vampires (because they don’t even have fangs. They’re clearly not vampires, just sparkly emo blood-drinkers), but don’t then expect me to FORGET that they’re supposed to sparkle. Fail #1.

Fail #2: Emo necrophilia virgin sex is not hot. I’ve never seen such an awkward sex scene in a movie. I literally had to look away.

I could handle the birth scene where Edward had to bite through the placenta (yeah, it was ALMOST as disgusting as the porn that’s been showing up on Facebook.  Darya, I will NEVER forgive you for the picture you showed me from your newsfeed.  Never.), but the sex scenes were the ones I had to watch through my fingers horror-movie style.

And then there was Fail #3: When Jacob falls madly in love with Bella and Edward’s baby. I read the books. I knew it was coming. But it was still creepy beyond belief when they showed it. AND EVERYONE IN THE MOVIE IS COOL WITH IT! Dude. When a seventeen-year-old boy falls in romantic love with a newborn, you don’t accept it, you lock him up! Don’t say anything and you’ll get fired as the Penn State football coach years later. Just saying…

And Fail #4: I have to wait another YEAR for part 2? So unfair! I want to see it NOW!

Go Twi-hard or go home.

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The ugly truth about teaching

I am a teacher.

TV and movies make teaching look like such an instantly rewarding job. But they don’t warn you just how much of the job sucks. And I mean epic sucking.

I first discovered that maybe teaching wasn’t the best career on the planet when my first-year newspaper staff staged a coup against me. They lost, but it was pretty unpleasant for a while there. They made t-shirts to protest against me and everything.

Once that issue was out of the way, I thought it was going to be smooth sailing. My kids liked me, and I figured out that I was, despite feeling like I had no clue what I was doing, actually a pretty good teacher.

But there’s so much that they don’t prepare you for when you’re in college education classes.

Like the vomit.

Remember when you were in school and a kid would get sick in class—and complete and utter anarchy would ensue? Well when you’re the teacher, you have to DEAL with that situation.

The first time that happened to me, I wasn’t remotely prepared to deal with it. A girl in my class started throwing up, and the room was filled with this horrible, banshee-like scream. Which I eventually realized was coming from me.

Because I was the teacher, everyone looked at me to do something. So when I stopped screaming, I did the first thing I could think of: I grabbed a trashcan and put it in front of her, so she’d stop throwing up on the floor.

Unfortunately, aim can be tricky when it comes to projectile vomit, and she missed the trashcan entirely, hitting the desk across the aisle from her instead. At this point my entire class ran out of the room. Several of the kids were never heard from again.

They don’t warn you about that in teacher school.

They also don’t prepare you for the inappropriate reactions that kids can have. A boy insulted a girl in my class one time. They were literally in opposite corners of the room when it happened, and the girl responded by spitting a wad of gum the size of my fist across the room at him with such flawless aim that it landed right on his forehead, where it stuck.

The whole class froze for what seemed like an hour while he processed what had just happened, then everyone erupted, taking immediate sides in the battle royale that was about to break out.

I pulled the offending girl out in the hall before the kids could kill each other, but was then faced with a new dilemma: what do you SAY to a girl who spat a massive chunk of gum across an entire classroom? Good aim? Can you teach me how to do that? I wound up just sitting on the floor next to her and asking her to not spit her gum anymore.

But I have to say, she might have been on to something; I never heard anyone insult her ever again after that incident.

But there’s one thing about teaching that makes it all worthwhile: I can use all the stuff that happens as material for my next book!

Oh and there’s the whole educating the youth of America thing. I guess that’s important too. If you’re into that kind of thing.