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Men feel perfectly comfortable slathering their chests in greasepaint and screaming like half-naked ninnies at football games, but women too often over-explain their passions, apologizing for being too girly or liking something too trashy.
The grown women of “Twilight” will no longer apologize. They will go to those midnight “New Moon” screenings.
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Allow me to clarify something about this. The dudes who slather paint on themselves for football games are idiots. The grown women who attend midnight “New Moon” screenings are idiots. It’s not a matter of explanation or reason.
See? This is easy.
