Sometimes I have trouble differentiating reality from Bon Temps-world. The town isn't even real, for goodness' sake. But that doesn't stop me from feeling unnaturally connected to the characters. I follow the actors on twitter and pretend like we're good friends. When the lady who plays "Pam" tweets about her husband selling an album, I pause for a second and think about buying it. What the h@#% is wrong with me?
Above my skewed sense of reality, I have a really addictive personality. I'm obsessive. I don't just like something. I become it. I love purple, so 90% of my wardrobe is purple. I love New Orleans, so I go there once or twice a year. I love True Blood, so naturally I own a ton of paraphernalia, block out my Sunday evenings, read all the books, own all the DVDs, and read all the online wikis...
*By "want" I mean: "Already own."
Oh, if I like something, everyone else must like it, too. And I'm pushy about it. There's nothing more important than whatever my latest fad is. Nowhere is safe: not in person, not in cyberspace, not over the phone... Nowhere.
I lose all will to live when my show is over. Slight exaggeration, but there's definite sadness, like when you get your hair cut or see someone kick a puppy .
That's right. My name's "LeeAnne" but that's as Southern as I get. However, I have an entertaining* alter ego who's a steel magnolia born-and-bred. I talk in an accent, cook up jambalaya and remoulade, and use weird expressions like "I'm more nervous than a long tailed cat in a room full o' rocking chairs" and "I'm sweating like a sinner in church."
*"Entertaining" is a relative term. Friends might also say that the terms "annoying" or "obnoxious" also apply.
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