ZOMG! YOUZ GUYS! The Twilight Saga: Breaking Dawn – Part 2 (In Addition To The T-Shirts And R-Patz Cardboard Cut-Outs) “Never-Fucking-Ending Tale Of Sparkly Vampires” comes out in theaters today!
Obviously I’m a mega, ultimate Twihard so SPOILER ALERT: I am not and I don’t have a got.damn.clue about the Twilight series beyond the midnight showing of the first part of the third part of the series that I attended with an actual fan that one time. That whole experience is all a blur to me, really. I do my best to forget as much of that momentary lapse in my better judgment as I possibly can. But that’s not to suggest that I didn’t pick up a few key parts from Breaking Dawn Part 1 that have me sitting pretty cushy up here in my authoritative throne of How The Second Part Goes Down. It’s like I don’t even need to go see the movie because I’m all, “Bitch, please! I wrote that movie in my sleep…during a screening of part one!” So if you’re in the mood to save some cash or the headache of recruiting some sort of teen or tween to accompany you to the theater, I am about to silver platter the shit out of The Twilight Saga: Breaking Dawn – Part 2 for all y’all. I’m sorry AND you’re welcome.
There were a few things that stood out most to me from the first part of the third part of the series of parts that secure my predictions:
First, shirts were optional. I’m pretty sure that this is the case for part two and I may be so bold as to presume that the shirtlessness evolved to a strict requirement. A source (that exists only in my REM cycle) tells me that there was a sign on set that explicitly read: “Shirtlessness: Required, Assholes. No Exceptions.” So yeah. Everyone is topless in the second part. Nipples ALL OVER THE DAMN PLACE!
Secondly, that Edward and Bella honeymoon scene really riled me up. I was like, “::gasp:: Holy shit! I would totally kill him for breaking that beautiful bed! Does he not know the privilege of having nice things?!” Right, right and it was sexy, a sparkly spermy wriggled its way right up into Bella’s lady-egg, steamy PG vampire boning, blah blah blah. Ooh, ooh, Bella made a bomb-ass looking piece of peanut butter toast right after that scene. I mean she yakked it up right quick (total waste) because, I guess, getting pregnant with a vampire baby is like being pregnant in dog years. Not saying that when a vampire gets you pregnant you are automatically going to give birth to a seven-year-old, but WebMD doesn’t really know how to field the symptoms and so I just recommend not getting knocked up by a vampire. In the second part, especially because of the required shirtlessness, there’s a bunch of crafty parent-sex scenes. Really steamy laundry room reach-arounds while Edward is trying to match the socks and the mid-afternoon-locked-in-the-hallway-bathroom-why-the-fuck-was-there-a-polly-pocket-on-the-counter-ouch-my-ass-that-is-going-to-leave-a-mark scenarios we’ve all come to know and love. And just like that, anyone who tries to tell you how “out of touch” the Twilight series is with real life can go fuck themselves.
Finally, the nightmare-ish childbirth scene…aka The Rave. Media outlets were all abuzz with headlines reading “Dudes Pass Out From Strobe Lights At Twilight Premiere” and I would like to call shenanigans. Dudes were probably passing out less because they have “sensitivity to flashing lights” and more because they new that whatever chick had dragged him to that theater was going to be so Holly Go-Fuck-Me that making a baby and seeing ALL OF THAT MESS happen first hand was inevitable. The warning signs at the box office were entertaining to see though. Added an edgy spice to the movie. A person could feel like a true bad ass, smugly buying a ticket to the film that was fucking dudes up all over the world. While I can tell you that no one is shooting vampires from their coot in the second part, that little butthead is causing a whole heap of trouble in the twilight world this go ’round. There’s even a Gladiator style battle royale that ends up with everyone just breaking beautifully crafted, mahogany headboards, eating peanut butter toast, listening to dub-step and not wearing shirts.
As you can see, I’ve mastered the art of ruining perfectly shitty movies with all the spoilers a person could ever love to hate. I would suggest you take my word on this whole vampire phenomenon thing and buy a ticket to see Lincoln instead. Because there are three words I’d like to leave with you today: Daniel. Day. Lewis.