Wait. Wait. This is not my hat.
I am Katie. I am a recent college grad. I live in Chicago. You are now bored with this autobiography.
This is my Twitter, where I am annoying in shorter spurts.
This is my blog of poems and prose I like.
This is my blog of food that I've made.
Ask me a question here.
OTP.
(Imagine if these two had run away together and eloped in the night, and the series had just ended there. That would have made this the perfect television show. Perfect.)
I am re-watching Season Two of Downton Abbey because Valentine’s Day is for feelings.
This time around, I like:
- Matthew less (stop being Hugh Grant with a muddy face and grow a personality that extends beyond the word “guffaw”)
- Mary more (but still, not everything is about you, my flat-faced darling)
- O’Brien much more (she really does care about shit, even if it’s not always the right shit)
- Lavinia the same (she is the Ann/Egg of Downton - her?)
- Thomas more (the scenes with the blind soldier are way too brief but are so, so well-acted; also, hnng)
- Mr. Carson more (eyebrows that would make Jack McCoy blush)
- Cora so much less (it’s not just that she’s a bitch, it’s that she’s too stupid to realize that she’s a bitch)
- and Lady Edith can still suck it forever (“But what about my dress?!” well how about you choke on it).
Jessica Brown Findlay is pretty and all, and I’m sure she’s a great actress, but she’s not right to play Lady Sybil. She can portray the innocence, but not the rebellion. That’s one of several reasons Sybil is downright boring.
Every episode is worth a second or third viewing just for the cinematography. Check out that long take when they’re bringing in all the soldiers in episode 3. Fuckin’ nice, man.
I would gladly allow Dame Maggie Smith to slap me across the face. And I would like it.
The worst thing about Downton Abbey is how attracted I am to Thomas.
Katie, you are the worst.
I never realized that the PBS Downton Abbey is different from the UK one, and now I’m watching it on TV with my mom instead of downloaded from the UK and they keep slicing out bits of dialogue and squishing episodes together (this one is episodes 7 and 8 of season 2 and THINGS ARE MISSING) and it is not okay. NOT OKAY.
I love this bitch.
It got a little Ye Olde Grey’s Anatomy with the melodrama in the second season, but they’re all so fucking charming that I don’t care.
Also, Bates and I are to be wed.
Edith can still suck an egg.
Time for the Christmas special. READY THYSELVES, TEAR DUCTS.
Wounded soldier #90003: Owwww.
Everybody else: Fucking Germany.
Lingering glances interrupted by explosions interrupted by more lingering glances.
Fade to black.
Lord Swithinger of Norinquistshire: Harumph. Harr, flarr, darr. Mmmmm.
Lingering glances.
Lingering glances.
Her Ladyship Bethusala of Most Rightfulson: Manners! Corsets!
Lingering glances.
Lingering glances.
Maid #6591: WOT WOT RIGHT TALLY-HO HOW BOUT THAT KING GEORGE INNIT
Lingering glances.
Fade to black.
Vera Wang? No longer wearing your gowns to the Oscars.
Vera Bradley? No longer picking my favorite handbag pattern of yours in the fifth grade.
Vera MacButtelshem? No longer making you up for the sake of this post.
AHHEWKNVWLB#$WBR$HIOU#RHOIAEVKLNAEFWLJBAT$BLUATW$LBJALKBAEFWKLBJFW$BUQBUGAFWKNLAEBUT
