Archive for February, 2006

The romantic in me

February 24, 2006

wants to hear Kelly Clarkson’s “Since U Been Gone” as one gigantic kiss-off to Simon Cowell/the cultural monolith that is American Idol.

She’s so movin’ on. But thanks to you, she gets what she wants indeed.


Jane Austen’s Insolence and Intoxication: The Pride and Prejudice Drinking Game

February 14, 2006

Like every good apartment of Bostonians, my roommates and I flagrantly disregarded logic and spent the day prior to being snowbound on Sunday holed up with crudite, pita chips, chai tea, and, thanks to KP, beer. Oh, and five hours’ worth of Colin Firth’s soul-flaying, cravat-wearing, damp/tousel-headed countenance.

And, again, like every good apartment of Bostonians, we were suddenly inspired to turn the occasion into an organized means of getting schnockered. Just as (I would like to believe) Jane Austen herself would have done, had she lived to see the glory of Colin Firth diving headfirst into a pond. So I present, in conjunction with the talents of my estimable roommates LJQ and ATO, the Pride and Prejudice drinking game.

Because it is a truth universally acknowledged that any BBC miniseries, no matter how innately sublime, can be improved by the addition of copious spirits.

Imbibe whenever:

*Mrs. Bennet mentions her nerves and/or wears a ridiculous hat
*Sir Lucas says “Capital, capital!”
*Lydia Bennet does or says something wanton and/or slutty (including but not limited to: making a fool of herself over regimentals, rolling her eyes, eloping with cads)
*Mary Bennet does or says something priggish and/or stodgy (including but not limited to: playing the pianoforte and singing most egregiously, lusting from afar for Mr. Collins (you know she totally did))
*Jane Bennet wears a hooded cape
*An estate, piece of property, or entailment is mentioned
*Mr. Hurst is passed out in the background
*Mr. Bingley’s puppy-ish enthusiasm inspires you to make little barking and panting noises for comedic effect (this will occur with greater frequency as the blood alcohol content of drinking game participants rises)
*whenever anyone inquires after/thinks about Colin Firth in a wet shirt

and the two stipulations guaranteed to get one wholly smashed:
*every time someone mentions Lady Catherine de Bourgh
*every time Mr. Darcy looks intensely at Elizabeth Bennet but does not say anything

And now, a dramatic re-enactment of this drinking game’s maiden voyage:

::cue rollicking (yet restrained) piano music::

What a lovely fam–oh Mary. Mary Mary Mary. Would it kill you to smile, just this once, for your family’s totally anachronistic portrait? (drink)

And who’s this terribly attractive yet proud character, whose eyes are less eyes and more searing dark holes that can see into the remote dusty corners of my being? (drink)

Jeebs. Even when he’s looking askance, he’s still scorching the hindquarters of my soul with his cattle-branding gaze.

(drink) (drink)



Lizzie: How utterly embar–haha! I mean, ha! Lovely shirt, isn’t it–I mean day! Hahaha, lovely wet shirt we’re having today!

(drink) (drink) (drink)

Oh my God, it’s not even funny HE CAN SEE MY THOUGHTS.

Fitzwilly D, duuuuude, it’s your, like, wedding. You are allowed
a) to look happy
b) to look at the lovely soon-to-be-ex-Miss Lizzie
c) to lay off the MOLTEN EYE BEAMS you use to contact random women through their television screens, like that ass-creepy girl in The Ring, though if the phone rings immediately after I finish watching (hic) this and I hear your clipped British voice saying “seven daaaaysss” or possibly “tolerable, I suppose, but not handsome enough to tempt me”…um, I kind of lost my train of thought, but call me, cause that would effin’ RAWK. (drink)

(drink) (drink) (drink) (drink)

Jane…Oh Jane, I, like, totally love you. Love you love you love you, you are the best and the awesomest and we always have the best time together, you know I love you right? Ok, good. C’mere, I want a hug.