So, in my weekly scouring of the Costumer’s Guide, I ran across a still from a new movie, The Secret of Moonacre.

Now, that’s a lovely dress, so of course I rush to find out what sort of awesome-costume movie this is.

This is the first poster I saw:

It looks very steampunk! A little wild, a little sepia, some Legend action going on with the horse and the smaller-than-normal sidekicks and the Tim Curry and everything. Sign me up, right?

…right?

The second poster:

In which Aslan leads us all to the sacred village of Tweeville, ruled by Bob the Rabbit up front there, and Vice-Mayor Magical Unicorn Pony.

Who’s right? Well, the official site tells us more about it:

“Robin”
Played by Augustus Prew

Undergoing the biggest transformation from book to screen, Augustus Prew’s Robin is most likely to set young female hearts alight with his troubled interpretation of the role. He gives us a much darker, more interesting character who Maria has to convince to change his loyalties to aid her on her quest.

It’s a movie about a bunch of crazy-fuck firestarters in bowler hats! You little bastards! Vice-Mayor Magical Unicorn Pony will have something to say about this!

I have a new boyfriend!

I skulked around for a month looking at him, trying to cop a feel when I could, judging if I had room in my life. And I added up all the sad minutes I spent alone this week, just waiting, and knew I had to have him.

Technology continues to tromp ahead without me, by the way – this little guy has twice the hard drive space and memory of my main computer, which was so top of the line when I bought it that I had to uninstall all the NASA applications that came with it.

Now, this thing is lightweight (good to carry around all the time), has a surprisingly comfortable keyboard (which is nice, because I would never have the wherewithal to unfold a keyboard in public without knocking six things over), and has a bright, sharp screen. I know that last thing because I totally stalked some poor woman at the Whole Foods who was watching a movie on it. (Yuppiest sentence I’ve ever written, holy crap.)

ANYWAY, after ten minutes of staring at her down the counter like Mr. Goodbar, I went over and smoothly engaged her in conversation.

G: …IS THAT A NICE COMPUTER?
Her: Please go away.
G: I LIKE YOUR COMPUTER.
Her: I have the cops on speed dial.

With that ringing endorsement, it was time to buy!

Once I bought him, I went home and had a nice bout of buyer’s remorse. I spent the evening watching him charge up and trying to convince myself I hadn’t just bankruped myself for all eternity. I exerted myself – “I LIKE MY COMPUTER” – until I believed it.

And I really do like it, bless its 2-pound heart. I don’t usually name my computers (my other computer is “my computer”, or occasionally “you bastard”), but I sort of had to after all this all-caps emoting.

His name is Fassbender Syndrome. (Jr.)