When I watched Twilight, I tsk-ed at the endless gasps and sighs of those horny ladies whose hormones went into overdrive. You could even feel the tension and bated breaths frozen in the air BEFORE the vampires made their entrance onto the screen.

The muffled squeals and all… I was raising my brows and giving those “You kidding me, right?” condescending laughs as my viewing pleasure was disrupted by heaves and low grunts. And the rows of ladies with their hands to their hearts to still them so they wouldn’t leap out or something (especially the one who kept shifting in her seat right next to us, who was an executive female in her late twenties watching it alone, probably for the X-th time).

At the end of the show, fuck, I found myself holding my breath also. Got more wimpy or not?

I caught myself unaware as I was in the midst of some shyshy girlish giggles halfway through the show and wondered what the freak was so wrong with me?!

It was perhaps one of the most interesting movie outings I have ever been to, that emotions and hormones are orchestrated like a symphony, with I-don’t-care-he-is-MINE (deleted to ensure the safety of my being) Edward Cullen as the conductor.

And for the upcoming New Moon.

Gosh.

How Jacob has grown.

I have to keep my mind in check. He is just a teenager and it feels so wrong that it feels so right to feel so wrong..

Tsk tsk tsk.

And of course with the Volturi taking centrestage…

… Let’s get ready for some Team Caius. He has an English accent, ohmyfreakinggoshohdearletmebreathe.

(I just hope he doesn’t make me cringe in a bad way kind…)

Sad to say, I am not looking forward to blatant hormonal display in the cinema which I probably be impossibly annoyed by the disturbing reactions and strange, strange noises from the ladies.

It is even more emotionally traumatising to find myself being one of them. Giggles.

I better get plenty of pantyliner ready when the movie is out, so I don’t cream my panties.

Get ready people, when you walk into a cinema with plenty of ladies watching New Moon, you might find yourself experiencing what Yang Tze theatre is to old men.

Brollies, anyone?