Chapter Eleven: Complications
Better Title: Poke Her Face

With all the gender swapping, let’s take a minute to organize the characters.

Beau – Bella Swan
Edythe – Edward
Julie (or Jules) – Jacob
Royal – Rosalie
Archie (really?) – Alice
Jessamine – Jasper
Carine (Which is the worst way to spell it because it looks like “canine” and I’m giving it a hard I sound because it’s funny to say…Car-Ine!) – Carlisle
Bonnie – Billy (Jacob’s dad)
Earnest – Esme
Quil – Quil

And the rest of Beau’s friends are…whatever. I don’t care about them. Neither should you. Sorry, E-rock-a.

I thought this chapter would include B&E running through the jungles of Forks, but instead this is a tedious chapter in which the following occurs:

Beau thinks about touching Edythe’s face.
Edythe touches Beau’s face.
Beau thinks about touching Edythe’s face.
Edythe asks Beau questions such as, “What’s your favorite color.”
Beau tells Taylor that he’s not going to prom with her.
Beau thinks about touching Edythe’s face.
Julie shows up at the end and Edythe acts like a brat.
Beau thinks about touching Edythe’s face.
No one rides on Edythe’s back through the jungle.

Pretty boring. And when Twilight is boring, it’s VERY boring.

Since the last series of blogs something major has happened in my life — I started watching Gilmore Girls. It’s great. Reading this book now, I can’t help but wonder what this same basic story would have been like had Rory Gilmore been Bella Swan. It would have been amazing. It wouldn’t even need jetpacks.

Not much happens on Gilmore Girls, but the story is delivered with such clever wit and charm that it’s impossible not to love it. The show is funny, sad, quirky and adorable. There’s even a love triangle in which Rory must choose between a vampire and werewolf. (The show never states that Dean is a vampire and Jess is a werewolf, but come on. We all know the truth. They must be. Why else would a young girl fall in love?)

I’m still only on season 5 of the show, so please no spoilers. Thanks!

Watching it has ruined Twilight for me even more. It’s like eating a terribly bland canned soup, and then someone offers you a taste of homemade beef stew. Now your soup tastes even worse, and you have to eat the whole thing!

Ugh. This book is soup.

Also, please read this chapter excerpt and then answer the following questions. (Due Monday!)

But when I walked out of the gym, Edythe was there. She stood in the shade of the gym building, though the clouds were still black…

1. Huh? (Show your work)
2. Answer the first one again, because I’m still not sure I understand. Doesn’t this imply that the entire sky is dark and cloudy? How can there be shade? Is there just a few black clouds in an otherwise sunny sky?

The funniest part of this chapter are the long-winded paragraphs in which Beau aches to reach out and touch Edythe’s perfect face. It happens about four times, and each time I smack the book hoping to knock some sense into Beau.

Beau, buddy, listen. First, girls don’t really like it when you try to grab their faces. It’s weird. Second, faces aren’t that great to touch. It’s the same as touching your own knee. You’re gonna be disappointed. And third, reading your thoughts is like reading the journals of a third-string Batman villain. Chill the hell out! You sound like a stalker!

When you tell me, “I wanted to trace the shape of her lips, the line of her cheekbone, the length of her throat…” it makes me not want to hang out with you. It makes me want to record our conversations so I have something to offer the FBI after your arrest.

Jungle running in the next chapter? I hope so.

Happy Halloween!

Murmurs/Mutters/Mumbles: 4
Total: 41

Prediction
EDYTHE: Hey, um…listen. Remember when I said I couldn’t read your mind?
BEAU: Yes. It’s because I’m special.
EDYTHE: Actually, I can read it. I could always read it. I just didn’t want to embarrass you.
BEAU: Um…
EDYTHE: And at first I thought it was cute, they way you thought about me. But now it’s going off the rails, man.
BEAU: I don’t understand.
EDYTHE: You think about touching my neck? And my face? And it’s all the time!
BEAU: I like your face.
EDYTHE: Believe me. I get it. But come on! Your thoughts are like that of a serial killer. I’m supposed to think it’s romantic because you’re young and in love, but if a forty-year-old man had the same thoughts, I would kill him without asking questions because there’s no way he’s not a psycho-sexual maniac.
BEAU: I just want to press my fingers into your cheekbones and taste your forehead and massage your face like it were ten pounds of Silly Putty.
EDYTHE: Have you even noticed my boobs!? My ass?! I have a rockin’ ass! And you want to pat me on the head?
BEAU: I want to be your organic Halloween mask. I want to run my fingers across your eyelids and experience your nostrils from the inside.
EDYTHE: This is weird.
CHARLES MANSON: No it’s not.
HANNIBAL LECTER: Totally normal.
NORMAN BATES: It’s kinda sweet, actually.
QUIL: And if you like faces, stop by my face painting booth at the fair, located in the van out in the parking lot.

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