happiness is found in disc form

My zen can be found in Pride and Prejudice.

I went on a minor shopping spree on Amazon, and I was saving this for my days off, but--ohh. Mr. Darcy. *Swimming*. In his trousers and shirt, even! No boots! No coat and hat! No cravat. That is totally the Regency equivalent of naked with leather straps and a whip, you know?

It's weird how your standards of sexy go through a time warp in five hours of viewing a movie where no one makes physical contact with the opposite sex. Unless they are married. Or Mr. Collins. Whose very existence explains why this rule should be enforced draconically.

Okay, I'm a little punchy. I have to work four hours Ssturday, too, and just thinking about it makes me need another shot with my DVD player.



I love this movie. It first came on when I was living in Georgetown, between Army Ex-Boyfriend and The Guy After, when while switching channels on our completely illegal cable, I hit on A&E and the Netherfield Ball.

It was like, instant recognition. I *knew*.

Now, they are *mine*. Mine, mine, mine.

Random Thoughts:

1.) Swimming. Okay, so not in the book. Don't care. I ask for accuracy, but carbon copy it does not have to be. And let's all face it, Darcy is feelign all rejected-y and it's hot, and I have never, ever objected to completely gratuitous prettiness. Plus, it's a good thing for Lizzy, since she gets to see the goods she'll be waking up beside in the morning.

Wait. Regency. They did the separate room thing. Hmm.

But still. He's all, strip strip strip, and I'm panting through it, thinking, ooh. Undershirt. Bit of neck exposed. Is that an ankle? *swoon* Might faint. Breathe. *Jumping in the water*. My God, man. You rebel you.

2.) It always surprises me that I hit the same level of outraged shock every time I read about Lydia eloping off to London, and then finding out there was no intention of being married. I mean, I get the entire double standard going on here, but on the other hand, I want to slap her upside her head so much. Hard. Because I can put aside a lot, but blatant stupidity is just blatant stupidity no matter what era you live in. Geez, girl. You live in Regency England. Keep your ankles together already. The bed jumpnig is for *after* you are married. I know, because I read about it. So there.

3.) Every time I read, or watch, I still absolutely believe Mr. Darcy's first thought on meeting Elizabeth again at Pemberly was, in fact, WHOO HOO! WILL SHOW HER THE PRETTY WOODS! TEMPT HER WITH RIVERS AND PRETTY VIEWS! AND WHILE SHE IS SWOONING, SHE WILL TOTALLY FORGET SHE DOESN'T LIKE ME! TAKE HER TO THE ALTAR BEFORE SHE RECOVERS! BWAHAHAHA! Cause man, it was so there. And it's never not fun to watch him practically running down the stairs to get outside again before she gets away. I can just see him yelling down the house WHERE IS MY LUCKY COAT? NO, NOT THAT KIND OF LUCKY, DAMMIT! Though he would say it with more class. I'm not that classy, I can't think how, but he would.

Cause that's how I entertain myeslf like that.

I can see the plan form. Get sister to invite her to dinner. Seduce her with heavy foods. Lull her with piano music. Stand her in front of windows to stare at the grounds. Sneak the minister in when she isn't looking. It's all there. Watch it. You'll see. Except the minister part, cause the minister was out with a bad cold and Darcy didn't want to deal with a cranky wife. He figured he could try it again the next night. AND HE WILL SUCCEED! BWHAHAHA!

Tell me you didn't see The Plan.

3.) First names are magical here, have you noticed this? It reminds me of mythology, where the true name could so screw you over if you told it to someone. Everyone is Mr. This and Miss That, and then, if you get engaged, you *might* get to push out a first name, or even a nickname, if you are Bingley and very daring. It took me a long time to retain the fact that Bingley's first name was Charles and that Mr. Darcy had a first name. Which I mean, intellectually, I knew that. Because it's just inconvenient to yell out "OH GOD, MR. DARCY YES!". That's an awful lot of syllables for panting, you know? Though Fitzwilliam really isn't much better. Willy just sounds wrong. I mean, wrong on new and kind of creepy levels. Though I can't see Elizabeth using a pet name either. Again. Creepy and wrong.

4.) That touching thing again. These people do not do the casual touch. You have to be blood related to get anything going on, which I so won't comment on except to say, huh. But it's also interesting that the villians/morons are touchy-feely, or give the impression of it--Wickham and Mr. Collins, for example, adn even Mrs. Bennet, to a lesser extent. While the Upright Gentlemen (and Ladies) keep a proper foot of space between themselves and others. After intense viewing, the waltz being considered *racy* makes a lot of sense.

5.) The Bingleys--you know Jane is totally taking over the finances. In a very ladylike, completely civilized way, of course. Cause man, Bingley has *careless with money* written all over him.

6.) What I really liked was the dress patterns everyone had. It was especially true of Elizabeth and Jane in their clothing choices--they kept to the same basic style for themselves, which was pretty but modest, with Elizabeth preferring long sleeves and Jane with her cloak type. Contrast that to Lydia--and by the way, that's a hell of a rack for a fifteen year old--who seemed to be competeing to see if her necklines were actually made of metal or would burst if she leaned over too much. And man, did she lean over a lot.

7.) I deeply loved the flashbacks. Deeply. I liked the flashes to London, with Darcy being a relentless gentleman going after Mrs. Younge--did he say, Yo, bitch, you screwed me over and you *owe me*. He did not. He just stuck that oh so convenient cane in the door and addressed her nicely and can anyone make polite conversation look scary and menacing in a very, very civilized way? He so can.

And those canes. Again, not commenting *at all*. Just saying. There are an abudance of canes going on in Regency England. And I mean nothing by saying that. At all.

8.) If I ever wanted to slash, I'd slash Mr. Collins and Mr. Wickham. I mean, Charlotte would probably hand them the keys to the bedroom with her blessing and go water some plants. I like her. Lydia's with the regiment--oh come on, I'm *not being mean*, I'm just saying, she could go hang out with them. And really, the boys deserve each other. I can see Mr. Collins now, with all his scary number of thank-you's, adn okay, now I feel very, very dirty. Very, very dirty.

You know, I feel like I need to watch this a few more times. To absorb more atmosphere. Doubtless, this will make me unfit for twenty-first century company and wondering why everyoen is showing *ankles* and stuff at work, but I will bear it.

The *romance*.

*happy place* Lizzy/Darcy. My forever OTP.