I could just play this off and say I watch shows like this just so I have enough fodder for blog posts.
Or I could tell you that someone coerced me into watching it.
Or that there was absolutely nothing else on television at the time because U-verse temporarily dropped all channels except one.
But those would be lies.
Here’s the truth: I get paid to watch The Vampire Diaries.
No, no, that was a lie too. I’m not paid to do it, I just do.
See, I like vampire stories.
And unlike the rest of you posers with your “I drive like a Cullen” bumper stickers, I’m a true fan, raised the Anne Rice way. I’m cooler than you late bandwagon jumpers for many reasons, not least of them being that my idea of a vampire could totally kick your sparkly high school boy’s ass.
Now, here’s the part where I reveal how uncool I am. *ahem*
It happened while B was deployed during the winter months, when the television became my Friday night I’m-feeling-introverted unwinding companion. (Sound familiar? It is. This is also how I discovered the cheesefests known as Grey’s Anatomy and Desperate Housewives.) The title of this show caught my eye on Netflix so I decided to give it a shot. The discs arrived on a Thursday and I launched into the first season. I made it as far as the second episode before I lost interest, yet somehow, like a moth to a bug zapper, I found myself drawn back to the television the next night. When it happened again the next Thursday I knew I was doomed.
B came home while I was working my way through the second season, and a week later I told him he had permission to run off and find something more interesting to do while I soaked up my weekly quota of high school vampire angst. Intrigued by the fact that I’d dismissed him, he decided to stick around. I gave him several chances to back out of it but he refused, and as I raised the remote to the television I couldn’t shake the feeling that he’d discovered me watching porn.
We were only a few minutes into an episode when B started cracking up. I blushed even redder, punched him in the arm and told him to leave the room, and defended my selection by muttering something unintelligible about how people with high IQs really need vegetative shows like this to keep their brains from overheating. Then, my pride ripped to shreds, I just settled in to watch the show with or without B present. It wasn’t long before we were taking turns adding our own dialog and making fun of the characters, and as we did I noticed I familiar pattern emerging.
We discovered that several things make this show just as fun to ridicule as the Twilight series, and, sadly, most of the funny bits are identical. Lead vampire hero has a stake up his ass and is stormy-eyed and brooding. Female lead is a twiggy, moody brunette whose hair is always in her face. Parents are conveniently absent from the plot most of the time. And the vampires are all in high school. (Because if you’ve just been made a vampire, with all the power in the world and the ability to go wherever you want and do anything you want–except sunbathe–you know the first thing you’ll think of is returning to high school to chill with all your BFFs! Gag.)
I had a final point to make about one major difference between Twilight’s ridiculousness and The Vampire Diaries’ goofiness, but it dissolved into a wordless laugh fest as I searched for evidence. So now I present…
Damon Salvatore’s eyebrows.
I know you’re wondering, and the answer is yes; there is a facebook page dedicated to Damon’s eyebrows. You are welcome.
For the record, Jasper does not approve of this post either.