As we all know, the Twilight movies suck, and not just in a vampire kind of way. They suck in a Rebecca Black Friday kind of way. I mean, I go see them all. I even buy them all when they come out on dvd, but still? As romantic as the notion that Bella and Edward will live on together forever is, I’m glad I don’t have to watch it all.
It could be argued that the only redeeming quality in any of the Twilight movies to date is Taylor Lautner’s abs. Or maybe his pecs. His arms are kind of nice, too. But the problem with that argument, of course, is that I’m old enough to be his mother. I know I am not the only one who has had this love/loathing relationship with Wolf Boy’s muscles.
You know who you are. I won’t name names.
But I will give you a cure, and the cure’s name is Thor.
Thor is much older than the wolf guy. In fact, he is only 13 years younger than I am (if memory and IMDB serve), which means I am not old enough to be his mother, which means I have no qualms about telling all three people who still read my blog:
It was probably bad form on my part to be walking out of the theater with my husband and panting things like, “That was a WHOLE lot of man!” But honestly? That was a WHOLE lot of man, and there wasn’t much I could do to make it not true.
That was a week ago.
I immediately texted my best friend to tell her she must see the movie. Last night, she did. Then she immediately texted me. It was something along the lines of “Thor . . . Yummmm.”
Which, now that I think about it, may be what I had originally texted her.
But I think, really, that she summed it up best (for the sake of context, we were talking about the scene in which he was shirtless): “It was like he had on armor w/o having armor.”
Or anything else, for that matter.
The moral of the story, of course, is that Norse gods are the hottest, and old women may be old but we aren’t dead (unlike Edward and his weird nipples).
Or something like that.
Tewt the Newt is too busy trying to figure out when we can go see
him it again.