I despise the Twilight series. I don't think I need to explain why. There are tons of people out there who already have formed coherent arguments (for lack of a better word) about Edward's manic-depressive issues and Bella's conceited personality... or lack thereof. In addition, my definition of a vampire novel is this: sex, blood, death. If it's missing one, two, or all three of those qualities, it's not worth my time. Call me pretentious and close-minded if you want. I don't care. </pointlessrambling>

ANYWAYS. I decided to read Breaking Dawn (after only having read Twilight and hating it) because (sigh) I wanted to read the sex scene(s).

Sadly, I couldn't get past the first chapter. Honestly, there are so many things wrong with this book already in the first couple of pages. I did what shittons of bloggers out there do to keep themselves sane while reading bad writing. I critiqued the book part I read. Harshly.

And now, for your entertainment, O Faithful Reader...


I'd had more than my fair share of near-death experiences; it wasn't something you ever really got used to.
OH EM GEE LOOK AT ME I’M BELLA PITY ME I’VE ALMOST DIED SO MANY TIMES BECAUSE I’M A FILTHY KLUTZY MARY SUE PERFECT ENDEARING SOCIOPATHIC BITCH.

It seemed oddly inevitable, though, facing death again. Like I really was marked for disaster. I'd escaped time and time again, but it kept coming back for me.
You know, most people aren’t this oblivious. This obviously means you need to die. RIGHT THE FUCK NOW.

When you loved the one who was killing you, it left you no options. How could you run, how could you fight, when doing so would hurt that beloved one? If your life was all you had to give your beloved, how could you not give it?
Honey, you’re stuck in an abusive relationship. There are two things you can do here. One: GET HELP. Two: KILL YOURSELF.

If it was someone you truly loved?
REDUNDANCY FAIL.

No one is staring at you, I promised myself. No one is staring at you. No one is staring at you.
Reality check: you’re a paranoid, conceited bitch. Contrary to what you believe, no one cares about you.

Her eyes bored into mine, and I flinched back, wondering why she didn't drop her gaze or look ashamed.
Flinching back and wondering are completely unrelated. THOUGHT CONNECTION/COMMON SENSE FAIL.
I’M THE GODDESS BELLA. BOW DOWN TO ME AND DON’T YOU DARE LOOK ME IN THE EYE, YOU IMBECILE MOTRALS!

It was still considered rude to stare at people, wasn't it? Didn't that apply to me anymore?
Since when do you care about etiquette? And since you hold yourself in such high esteem, aren’t you above the laws of lesser beings?

Then I remembered that these windows were so darkly tinted that she probably had no idea if it was even me in here, let alone that I'd caught her looking.
Okay, that is just pure FAIL.

I tried to take some comfort in the fact that she wasn't really staring at me, just the car.
Uh-oh! Bella isn’t getting all the attention! Scandalous!

The light turned green and, in my hurry to escape, I stomped on the gas pedal without thinking – the normal way I would have punched it to get my ancient Chevy truck moving.
1. REDUNDANCY FAIL.
2. Do you ever think?

Engine snarling like a hunting panther, the car jolted forward so fast that my body slammed into the black leather seat and my stomach flattened against my spine.
Actually, I don’t think panthers snarl when they hunt: the point of hunting is to track down prey silently. And when panthers do snarl, it sounds more like a human screaming in pain than a car engine revving up. That is a fact.

“Arg!” I gasped as I fumbled for the brake.
“Arg!” is not a gasping sound.

Keeping my head, I merely tapped the pedal.
........ CONSISTENCY FAIL (see next sentence).

With the toe of my shoe, I gently nudged the gas pedal down one half millimeter, and the car shot forward again.
One half millimeter, guys! So precise! Isn’t she intelligent?
Also, I’m pretty sure “one half millimeter” will not make the car shoot forward.

I managed to reach my goal, the gas station.
How the fuck did you get your license?

If I hadn't been running on vapors, I wouldn't have come into town at all.
SOCIOPATH. DRUG ABUSE.
I can has OD?

I was going without a lot of things these days, like Pop-Tarts and shoelaces, to avoid spending time in public.
PROTIP: suicide is a better alternative.

Moving as if I were in a race, I got the hatch open, the cap off, the card scanned, and the nozzle in the tank within seconds. Of course, there was nothing I could do to make the numbers on the gauge pick up the pace. They ticked by sluggishly, almost as if they were doing it just to annoy me.
Necessary detail? I THINK NOT.
Way to be self-centered. THE WORLD DOES NOT REVOLVE AROUND YOU!

It wasn't bright out–a typical drizzly day in Forks, Washington–but I still felt like a spotlight was trained on me, drawing attention to the delicate ring on my left hand. At times like this, sensing the eyes on my back, it felt as if the ring were pulsing like a neon sign: Look at me, look at me.
1. Pretentious much?
2. COMMA SPLICE! FAIL!

It was stupid to be so self-conscious, and I knew that.
It’s also stupid to be so self-centered. Did you know that?

Besides my dad and mom, did it really matter what people were saying about my engagement? About my new car? About my mysterious acceptance into an Ivy League college? About the shiny black credit card that felt red-hot in my back pocket right now?
No it doesn’t, so why don’t you just SHUT THE FUCK UP, because talking about all your shiny new playthings like this just makes you look like the spoiled brat you are.

“Yeah, who cares what they think,” I muttered under my breath.
Was the “Yeah” necessary? No.
First sign of clinical insanity: talking to oneself. GET HELP. GET LOCKED UP.

But then, I was just proud I could distinguish between the symbols for Toyota, Ford, and Chevy.
Any half-wit idiot can do that. You’re not special.
Also, name-dropping does not make you sound intelligent; it makes you sound completely desperate for attention and approval.

... and there I stopped, too lazy (read: filled with disgust) to continue. Although I might start this up again... depends on how masochistic I feel, really.

Yyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyep.
I made an LJ again.
Totally pointless, but whatever.
Layouts = pretty = I want = I make LJ.

FAVORITE. TRAILER. EVER.
Now to go and actually read the comic...

EDIT: my userpic is totally SQUEE-worthy.
*pedo-glomps Short Round*