When a blockbuster's sequel becomes the best advance ticket seller of all time before it's release, and when fans travel from as far away as Australia to camp out for the premiere in Los Angeles, it's hard to ignore the fervent fandemonium surrounding The Twilight Saga: New Moon, in theaters this week. Naturally, I've found myself contemplating Alex Meraz's abs this pop culture phenomenon.

No one would ever mistake me for a Twi-hard. I mean, I saw Twilight. And yes, Rob Pattinson is hardly hard to look at, both on-camera and off -- he walked by me at Comic-Con and I think even the cameramen fainted. Damn those Brits and their ability to instill Beatlemania wherever they go.

I could appreciate the first installment for what it's worth: popcorn fare with slight touches of the ancient supernatural. Add in the ubiquitous Twilight-themed merch, and radio-friendly soundtrack, and the tween inside of me gets that this storied franchise is one helluva power pop machine. Indeed, I even bought an "Edward" chocolate-covered marshmallow the other day. It was sickeningly sweet and barely digestible. I'm pretty sure I need a root canal now.

But I suppose I've never fully understood the Twilight appeal. It's not because my inner "squealing girl" has suddenly gone AWOL (I mean, give me Ethan Hawke in the new Daybreakers trailer and all dignity goes out the window) or that I'm jaded towards the magic movies can generate. Not that at all. It's just that I don't quite get what magic this movie franchise generates, in particular, that turns tweens/teens, twentysomethings, and housewives alike into whirling dervishes of hormonal insanity.

From the looks of the first one -- and I'm talking strictly film here, not the books -- I can only reason that when main characters profess their undying love while a) never rounding second base, and b) spending an inordinate amount of time making faces at each other that I'm only used to seeing before someone excuses himself to the restroom somehow mesmerizes viewers into becoming Robsessed, "Team Edward" t-shirt-wearing enthusiasts. Thus, the Twi-hards are born.

I have high hopes for New Moon, despite its oddball marketing tactics (trading cards with hairless oiled-up "werewolf" men = me mistaking them for trading cards of something completely different). My hope is that I can gain some insight as to what makes this series such an entertainment juggernaut. With the addition of the wolf pack, Volturi coven, Dakota Fanning's wicked case of pink eye, and the end results of Taylor Lautner's high-protein diet, New Moon looks like it amps up the action enough so that we're not stuck watching Edward's skin go "Swarovski" under the sunlight. And maybe it can pick up some of the would-be fans the first one left behind.

Will you be ironing your Team Edward shirt and watching this New Moon rise or was the first Twilight already too much?

Oh, and I'm Team Jacob all the way.