In other news, Rochester Creepneto is a creepy creepster that is creepily creeping (TM liv), but sadly, he's also Fassenberg, so I don't actually have a strong moral objection more powerful than "Yes, please, creep more." I keep watching to despise him more and I end up going "Okay, so he drives his wives crazy, sure, but those pants" and the surreal part is two of the period vids have McAvoy and Fassenberg randomly in suits with tight pants and it's not fucking fair to hit me like that when I'm not prepared.
I could end up with period Charles/Erik. I mean...holy shit, Charles is not Jane Eyre, do not think like that, no matter how accomplished he is. I am not going there. But someone should, so comment when you see it, please?
I'm staring blankly at Tom Hardy playing Heathcliff in Wuthering Heights and then a diversion into Fingersmith. I do not think my libido will survive a full frontal assault one after the other like this, but Byronic Sociopathic Hardy and My Glove Fetish Let Me Show You It Fingersmith seems like a combination that shouldn't be attempted without alcohol.
In other news, in a fit of melancholy, have added Downton Abbey to my watching list for the week. Things not to do; noting down every show in a period romance vid and deciding to watch them. That's how you end up staring blankly at Atonement again, because yes tragic, but--McAvoy. Pretty.
Currently attempting to plan an early November trip to South Padre with Child and various people who want to attempt Texas when it's not a temperature more suited to cooking on pavement. Possibly this is the only thing that is reconciling me to the fact I have to go back to work tomorrow. If anyone is interested in South Padre in November, feel free to email; I'm still in the joy of condo searching and marveling at the massive price difference when one goes off-season. But I am easy. All I want is a balcony overlooking the beach and time away from my cubicle.
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