Hello! And welcome to my monthly panic attack! It's a wonderful place to be. I've come here every month since I got off the pill. Which is about 2 years now. Today's panic color level is orange! That's right...it's quite a bit higher than the usual monthly panic attack color level (yellow)...but much easier to match my shoes to! Hurray!Was that too much information? Shoot. Sorry.
Part II of Jane Eyre was last night. I had some girls over and we stuffed our faces with ice cream in between squeals of...well...whatever it is we're trying to emote with a squeal. I know I've said it before...but I'm saying it again...that Toby Stephens man is HOT. I can't even seem to come up with a better adjective. It's the only one that is working its way through the fingers, so it will have to do.
Here's my one big fat complaint: I will ruin it for those who have not seen it...but if you haven't at least read the book, you're not worth protecting anyway. Rochester loses his sight in the fire that kills his nutsy wife. When Jane returns to him, she treats him almost like a helpless child...and he in turn, acts like one. This is BAD for his HOTNESS FACTOR.
Let's review...manly man with gruff exterior but a sexy light in his eyes...HOT. Weakened blind shell of his former self who whines about being abandoned and blah blah blah with the quivering lip...NOT EVEN LUKEWARM. He loses his sight and suddenly he can no longer sneer? Preposterous! It's an outrage! I want my public television $35 pledge donation back! You can KEEP your pansy canvas shopping bag!
And the "sex" scene! Ha! He never even took his shirt off! Damn you, BBC. Damn you and your tastefulness!
Whatevs. Despite these setbacks, the shit was still hot. And I taped it (no, I don't have TiVo...I know, I'm the last one on earth)...so when I'm back to hating all the real men in my life (give me about a week), I can pop in the tape and get sucked into the much more emotionally stable world of imaginary men. Before they turn blind and go all sissy, of course.
See that sneer? That's a manly sneer. That's a sneer that says, "I'm hot, and manly. Bitches" Yes. I speak Sneer.
12 keep(s) me blogging:
Wow, Kara, you really amaze me. I think even Mike Tyson in his ear-biting days would have failed to meet your standard for bitch-slapping manliness. I put it down to the exuberance of youth. We're all vulnerable, sweetheart, even gorillas.
goranas - I don't know if you saw the show, but there was a HUGE difference post inferno. And I wasn't the only one to notice it. I mean...losing one's sight should NOT affect one's taste for witty banter. Besides...you're supposed to hold fantasies to a higher standard. Am I wrong?
You're not wrong, but the guy had been through a lot. I expect he would have recovered his vigour after a bit of cuddling from Jane. There was also the thrill of the chase before he was blind, of not knowing how and when they were going to get it on. I think you liked the thrill of the chase.
thank you for ruining jane eyre for me. no really. it makes the ending of the eyre affair make sense now. i'll finally be able to sleep at night. or at least i will once my bed shows up.
For the sake of all that is holy, can we all agree that girls like boys and leave this manly manhot bulgy britches talk behind us? I swear I don’t want to bring you down but that sneer has nothing to do with “bad boy angst,” For thousands of years women have misinterpreted that facial contortion to the benefit of many a lonely man who might otherwise have gone two days in a row without a little “spanky spanky time.” We men know exactly what that sneer is, it is the look we give when decorum prevents us from scratching a ferocious butt crack itch. Have you ever seen a man sneer like that while he’s scratching his butt? No, you have not, which totally proves my point. No scratch = Sneer. Scratchy scratchy = Blissful Contentment. Tomorrow, we will discuss the origin of the “Pathetic Puppy Dog Look.” I don’t want to jump the gun but improper sack shaving techniques will be addressed.
goranas - I see your trying to make me into a sensitive person...this amuses me. Most people would have given up by now, but you're a fighter! Must be that whole king of the jungle mentality.
d - T doesn't have a bed either? You people got seriously screwed with this whole move thing. Maybe you should console your self with a little light reading. A little light Bronte reading.
slag - fine. FINE. The next post should be more your cup of tea. Or joe. Or whisky. Whatever. I PROMISE. But I bet Jill would back me up on the sneer...if only for female solidarity.
I never knew there were improper sack shaving techniques. Can't wait to hear more.
I love that only men have commented on this so far. It says something, I think. Not sure what...but something.
nope. none of our stuff has shown up yet. it's fantastic. no sofa. no tv. no bed. no tv. no dishes.
did i mention that cable is all set up and ready to plug into my tv? because it is.
apparently 5,000 km is a long way to move stuff. "you're a fucking professional moving company. what kind of excuse is that? give me my stuff!!!"
are you done panicking? (w/o the "k" it looks wrong; is the "k" necessary?) anyway, if you're done panicking, that's great! only, now might be time to panic because....
THERE'S A GIANT CONDI-EATING RHINOCEROUS COMING YOUR WAY!!! AHHH!!!!
Hmmm, Slag's comment may explain why I hardly ever see him sneer......but I'm going with the female solidarity. I think that sneer is very manly. It's in the style of Elvis-before-the-fat-years.
d - Jebus, did you hire the Amish to move your shit? 'Cause only someone on a buggy would come up with such a lame ass excuse. Get your money back.
macoosh - yep. we're back down to blue...thank ye' kindly. not so worried about rhinos in these parts...but they did just take wolves off the endangered list. hmmm.
jill - yay! take THAT, men!
Traitor!
seriously?! wolves kind of scare the crap out of me; one walked up to my window and jumped on the car in rural rural ireland and i'll never be the same.
god, now i can never leave the scary convent again. THANKS.
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