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October 23, 2006

Lovin' It Too Much

Confessions of a Not-So-Secret Buffy Addict

I was destined to be a Buffy fan. You know how the experts (whoever they are) claim that caffeine is a gateway drug to the big bad stuff? (They actually say this. Picture me rolling my eyes.) Well, years of Dark Shadows reruns, Anne Rice novels, and a tragic fondness for star-crossed lovers were the gateways for me. Once I found Buffy, I was hooked.

The little blonde girl with the stake was my crack. There was nothing about her, or the show, I didn’t like. The Scoobies! The alarmingly sexy Mr. Giles with his sweater vests and propriety (and his secret bad boy history)! The smart, snarky dialogue! Angel! Spike! Forbidden love! British accents! Puns!

Hold on a second, I have to fan myself. Note to self: Do not drag out DVDs until finished writing this.

I stumbled onto the show in the third season, when Angel had just returned from hell, Faith was getting ready to make trouble, and Willow and Xander were dealing with inappropriate touching. Who wouldn’t be fascinated? Before long I was scouring the Internet to find out everything I could about the first two seasons, and by then I was a bona fide crack whore—I mean, Buffy fanatic.

I mainlined taped episodes borrowed from friends. I searched out posting boards and online communities where I could discuss the really important questions like why the Master had bones, Xander’s Big Lie, and the Spike’s sire. I instituted the Rule of Absolute Silence on Tuesdays at 7:55, five minutes before the show began.

You know, normal stuff.

But pretty soon I was sitting in the PTA meeting imagining all the snottiest women in gruesome vamp face—and the pleasure of dusting them. I was considering buying kittens simply so I could name them Spike and Dru. I realized I’d gone to high school with Glory, since she clearly perfected her hell god’s attitude there. I was convinced that my bank was situated on a hellmouth, since the ways their “new computer system” had screwed up my checking account were nothing short of pure evil.

I sat through Valentine just because David Boreanaz was in it.

I think that says it all, really.

Now that F/X has restricted reruns to seven a.m. (?!), I’m recovering. I can hear the words “bloody hell” without swooning. I can wear my UC Sunnydale sweatshirt without sniffling. I’ve stopped writing letters to Joss Whedon because, frankly, I think I had the wrong address.

Hello, my name is Amy, and I’m a Buffyholic. Now if you’ll excuse me, I hear a certain DVD calling my name…

This blog was brought to you by Amy's I Love You To
Death, a collection of three witty, sexy novellas that prove true
love is only one blind date away from killing you.

And we have winners! Congratulations to Margaret Jaibaji of Laguna Niguel; Lacy Hairgrove of Euless; and Billie Bininger of Lancaster! Copies of I Love You to Death are coming your way!

Posted by at 8:55 AM | Comments (7)

Comments

Posted by: Lani at October 23, 2006 9:10 AM

Posted by: Alesia Holliday at October 23, 2006 9:22 AM

Posted by: dre_l at October 23, 2006 11:35 AM

Posted by: Amy Garvey at October 23, 2006 11:56 AM

Posted by: Lacy at October 23, 2006 6:28 PM

Posted by: Eileen at October 23, 2006 7:21 PM

Posted by: Jo at November 3, 2006 9:02 AM