Still can't breathe. LOL CORSETS.

While We're At It

(harkavagrant.com)

I Can't Wait...

I can't wait for them to invent sweatpants. Once I stop wearing corsets:

* I can start breathing again.


* It won't take four people to help me get dressed/undressed, and my mom/sister/neighbors won't have to look at me naked anymore.
* I can stop shifting my internal organs around.


* More room inside for making children.

It's Either This, or Making Fun of Poor People Again

Enjoy your summer. And remember, it could be worse:

(harkavagrant.com)

A Question of Aesthetics

Another thing about Victorians: they ruin cute boys.

I was grumbling about Masterpiece Theater's Wuthering Heights on here before, but what I didn't mention, because it wasn't particularly relevant, is that Tom Hardy, our protagonist, but certainly not our hero, made a bit of a meh-looking Heathcliff (comma total: 6). Which is what I sort of always imagined anyway, what with his being a terrible Gypsy and totes evil.

So imagine my surprise when he showed up in Inception (go see it right now. Go see it ten times.) looking utterly gorgeous. A case can be made for Victorians and evil Gypsies uglying up all our most eligible eligibles, and they must be stopped.

Georgians, on the other hand, will do wonders with what they're given: I only like Matthew Macfadyen in all his waist-coated Darcy glory, and Simon Woods looks for all the world like Paul Bettany's learning-impaired younger brother unless he is playing the nebbish Bingley. As if I needed another reason to prefer Pride and Prejudice to the Heights.

Hemophelia, It's What We Do

My blood won't clot! Blast my great-grandmother, who should have fallen down the stairs while she had the chance.

Rather Amused Indeed, Actually

Ah, The Young Victoria. Who could deny the lavish costumes, the lovely sets, the Rupert Friend? Not I, not I. But just how Victorian was the eponymous royal?

Not very, I guess, if the movie is to be believed (please let me believe the movie). I mean, yes, there were little dogs and corsets and hats, and she apparently had to be accompanied up or down any staircase, until she became queen and told everyone in favor of this rule that they were as loony as loons on loon tablets (I so want her to have died from falling down some stairs, though, just for the universe's sake. The universe needs things like that to keep it going). She was all, get that scary Mark Strong away from me, he didn't let me learn things when I was a girl, and even though I'm still a lowly female I'm the QUEEN, DAMMIT. And scary Mark Strong was sent away! And of course, she had lots and lots of sex with her dreamy husband. At one point, Albert is shot, and I told my sister, "Not to worry, he doesn't die, they have about eight hundred more kids." I mean, Victoria dies at the age of 81 (the movie didn't say whether or not stairs were involved, pity), which is basically her just laughing in the face of Victorianism if you ask me. "You thought I was going to die from a case of the sniffles when I was 17, didn't you! DIDN'T YOU! Well take that, 1800's!"

And they did take it, because it was 1901 by then. But also, she had provided basically every European royal family on the map with a rousing case of hemophilia, which is a pretty Victorian thing to do if you ask me.

When you get right down to it, it was a feature-length version of this comic, and really, what more could you ask for?

(harkavagrant.com)