A few days ago I wrote about a curious phenomenon I’m calling The Twilight Effect, or in other words, how a movie and book series full of mediocrity and unintentional hilarity aimed at 15-year-old girls has managed to completely captivate thousands of otherwise sensible grown women with (usually) good taste.

Exhibit A

Since my boyfriend would sooner light himself on fire than be caught dead seeing Twilight, I dragged three of my girlfriends–who were complete Twilight virgins–out to the theater on a cold, snowy Friday night. On my left was Joanna, who I can always count on to embrace the cheesiness of any dorky phase I happen to be going through. She thoroughly enjoyed the movie, and bless her, had no problem admitting that.

Exhibit B

And on Joanna’s other side sat my much snarkier friends Julie and Stephanie, who spent most of the movie making fun of it (“OMFG GLITTER VAMPIRES!?”). Which is precisely why I find these emails hilarious:

The Twilight Effect - Followup

Finally, and most alarmingly–

Exhibit C

My 70-something year old Grandmother asked to borrow my books. (And she loved them.)