Don’t Hate Me, But…

Everyone is talking about it. Everyone is status-updating about it. Everyone is tweeting about it. Everyone is blogging about it.

But not me (well, I guess technically now I am). Two words: Harry Potter.

Let me get this straight. You’re going to see a three-hour movie at 12:01am on a Thursday night while dressed as a fictional character? Like really?

Newsflash. You’re never going to turn into a wizard, no matter how many spells Harry casts on you in a dark, popcorn-littered movie theater. You’re a muggle!

I have never read a J.K. Rowling novel, nor have I ever seen one of the hypnotizing movies. Before anyone is quick to warn that I can’t judge a book by its cover (which I totally do, by the way) I’ll explain my opposition to the phenomenon.

When the very first novel was released–I was in 3rd grade at the time–my teacher read the book to my class during story time. Even at the young age of eight, I thought The Wizarding World of Bogus Harry Potter was utterly ridiculous. The last thing I wanted to do after recess was listen to my teacher drone on about how Harry endured in an intense game of Quidditch. Flying broomsticks? So Sabrina.

Being the complete girly girl that I was, I absolutely hated being forced to listen to such an absurd story. My idea of a fantasy was one in which involved me being a long lost triplet to the Olsen twins, with a bank account that could buy me all the Barbies in the world.

And hello?! Has Hagrid even heard of a cut and color, much less a hairbrush??

So, for all of you who are counting down the hours until you can put on your invisibility cloak, I hope you enjoy the movie. Abra Cadabra.


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