Oh my god, oh my god, eww, eww, eww

OH MY GOD THREE GUESSES WHAT THIS FELTED OBJECT IS. One, two, three, I know you didn't get it.


It's a UTERUS. WITH A FETUS IN IT. But it's not, like, anyone's womb, my womb, or your womb, it's not the general womb.

It is Bella's womb, you guys. With the bloodsucking demon fetus in it. That's a tiny bloodsucking demon fetus, lovingly rendered in wool, by a fan.

I love books, and I love crafting, and I love it when crafting and literature come together, especially in a wacky way. But no. No, no, no, this is not right.

While we're on the topic, I read the Twilight series with ravenous interest, I loved it, I couldn't put it down, I'll probably read it again, and me and all my girlfriends did, in fact, go to the midnight showing of the film, where we all squealed along with the 12 year olds when Edward walked on screen.

Spoilers ahead, nerds. Although if you haven't read it yet, where you been?

On the other hand, while I was still reading the books, I spent hours on writerly tirades about how Stephanie Meyer is kind of an awful writer, and hours more on feminist tirades with Cabbage and Brax about how the series is, in many ways, actually horrifyingly sexist and messed up. If I were a mom I'd have to have a very serious conversation with my daughter before I let her read these books, which enthusiastically reinforce unhealthy and actually insane ideas about love and romance. Like, for example, the boy you like when you're 17 is your soul mate for whom you would die, and he is your whole world and it's all so romantic, and you're soul mates just like Romeo and Juliet! (teenage suicide=true love.) Or Cathy and Heathcliff! (more obsessive "love," soul mate/ownership crap. Note to Meyer and other women who buy this crazy line--Bronte was not trying to paint a portrait of true love with Wuthering Heights. Oh my God, no. You people are messed up if you're looking for a Heathcliff-Cathy dynamic in your love life, Holy Monkeys you are SO MESSED UP, get therapy, please.) It all gets even better when he miraculously rescues you from a stranger gang rape in an alley! And when he breaks up with you your life ends and you jump off cliffs and stuff, for fun, but oh good, he came back so everything's fine again, whoopee, let's all be vampires! Because, at 17, you are totally positive that you will love this person not only for the rest of your life, but for the rest of eternity.

However. Meyer is surely doing something right, because despite all that (and more) I am still, totally, a fan. I am genuinely completely confused about why I loved these books so much. I kind of turned into a dumbass teenager while I was reading them, all giggly with the knowledge that Edward could show up at any second. Even though I knew that Jacob was totally a better choice, I was still in love with Edward, imaginary Edward, because if a real Edward showed up in my life I'd be all "co-dependent! red-flags!! RUN AWAY!!!"

Anyway. So that felted womb is pretty crazy, huh?

Bruce