After a more-than-year-long hiatus, I’m picking up where Jordan and I left off with Buffy the Vampire Slayer. After discovering Veronica Mars last summer, we slowly lost interest in the sassy, blonde, high-kicking, cropped-t-shirt-wearing heroine (come to think of it, Buffy and Veronica have a lot in common). But now, I’m staring a pile of laundry that needs folding, and the summer months are often barren in terms of television choices (aside from So You Think You Can Dance and Project Runway, of course), so I’m returning to Season Three with renewed hope.
Besides, after the Twilight Sigh-ga (a term borrowed from the brilliant author of this blog), I’m ready for some vampire slaying.
I’m also ready for the cheese. For example, this is the description of the episode I’m about to watch on Netflix: “Adults throughout Sunnydale begin behaving like immature teenagers after they ingest candy manufactured by the forces of evil.”
Even after that, I just know it’s going to be better than anything Meyer ever wrote.