Welcome to the Darkness...

Right now, I figure you're probably asking yourself, "Why the hell is this woman blogging about life with a vampire?"

My answer: Because I live with a vampire.

If you don't like my answer, I suggest you surf over to some other blogger's site and learn about kittens and roses like a good little bitch. Did that offend you? If you’re nodding at your monitor right now, then you definitely need to go elsewhere. This is not a place for the weak at heart or those whose moral compass always points to “Good”.

What I'm about to share with the world, without my Master's knowledge, might just make you piss your Hello Kitty panties. And for fuck's sake, the last thing I need to be held responsible for is your incontinence. Trust me. I get blamed for enough on a nightly basis.

First, I figure I have to offer a little explanation. Let me make it as simple as possible: Vampires are real.

There, I said it. You were waiting for it, weren’t you?

If you live in a major city and you’ve been on the sidewalk in a busy part of town after sunset, you’ve most likely seen one. Seriously, stop shaking your head. You’ve seen one, you just don’t know it. Don’t feel bad, you aren’t supposed to know. If you did, then well, we’d all be in a lot of trouble.

Rule #1: The Veil is a must. Without it, the world would go to hell in a Cracker Jack box.

And that’s exactly why you don’t know about vampires. The Veil, the code of secrecy they live by, keeps them safe from crazy scientists who’d like to vivisect them. It also keeps freaky Goth boys and girls from cutting themselves and bleeding on my Master’s front porch. Don’t make me pull out the Emo jokes Ladies and Germs - we’ll be here for days.

Okay, so aside from the Veil, there’s still another reason why you don’t know about vampires. It’s because you’ve bought into modern media and all the bullshit stereotypes, just like every other human out there. The chances of finding a raven haired, skin as pale as plaster, cape wearing Romanian are about as slim as not being called an asshole if you run across any street in Manhattan during rush hour. Throw out everything, every little scrap of legend you know, and say this with me three times: The vampires I see on the street look just like everyone else.

Congrats, now you have a clue. After all, if they looked like vampires, their existence wouldn’t exactly be a secret, would it now, Genius?

Are there some Romanian, cape wearing bastards out there? Of course, but they’re older than dirt and if you run into one of them on the street…something is seriously wrong. Unless he has long black hair, a face to die for, and acts like a frat boy. In that case, you’ve run into Odin and he’s practically harmless. Note: I said practically. Don’t go off half cocked and piss in his Cheerio’s. He never was a fan of that.

I think this is a good place to leave your mind at the moment. Take in what I’ve told you. Let it marinate. Give it some time to digest. I’ll come back and fuck with your head a little more tomorrow.