timepiececlock

Having never read the title previously mentioned and being only vaguely familiar with the story in the context of Bridget Jones's Diary, I endeavored to watch a film of the same title and purporting to be of the same story.

I, who am not likely to swoon at anything less than Ewan McGregor serenading Satine on top of an elephant, positively swooned.

Between my friend and myself there was an uncommon amount of girlish squealing and fluttery sighs. I'm afraid the dear people behind us must have thought me fifteen instead of twenty one.

Upon returning home I wrote on the white board at the top of the stairs:

Mr. Darcy is hot.
Where's my fucking Mr. Darcy??!!!

And then I thought I should write in my livejournal about it.

EDIT: Now I actually want to read the book. I've never had any desire to read the book before.

EDIT 2: I didn't mention it before but this movie is pretty. It's really lushly and beautifully designed when it comes to sets and landscapes.