These Wolves Are Wearing Me Out

I don't know about you, but I am totally exhausted by the presence of the Wolf Pack EVERYWHERE. The worst part is that I know they are just warming up for November, which is going to a publicity blitzkrieg the likes of which the Twidom has never seen.

Just waiting to invade a forest near you

I don't know if I'm up to it.

Taking it from the top, we have the core issue that I'm a Cullen girl at heart. I like vampires. You like vampires. It's good.

Enter the werewolves. Werewolves bad, okay? But werewolves hot. So hot. Oh my, shirtless wonders of the Wolf Pack, banned in Wales and other backwaters for your sweet fleshy goodness . . . wait. Bad! Wolf Pack bad. Bad! Vampires good.

Oh yes, vampires. Good . . . .

And yet, everywhere I look. . . . No vampire sexy goodness. Vampire sexy fail. All the sexy vampire stuff is already saved in my photobucket and fan fiction accounts.

In real life, vampire related interviews consist of Elizabeth Reaser claiming she doesn't get Esme and Peter Facinelli being all "AZ State Fair, yeah baby!" . . . in comparison, we've got Boo Boo Stewart doing wolf flips, Taylor Lautner romancing Taylor Swift, various other members of the Wolf Pack doing mall appearances and interviews. Everywhere. They're everywhere.

This symbol, everywhere I look.

Just when I think there might be an escape . . . no. Wolf Pack is at the mall, my friends. First, in reality:

And then in posters, cut outs, T-shirts, etc, etc, etc. It's making me crazy, tired, and scared.

They're all so young and made scary with computer shading. I don't like it. I want something cold, dead, and sparkling to cuddle up with to make me feel better.

How many more days till New Moon? I need to start drinking now . . . .