Is it wrong? Is it wrong that I cannot wait for Sunday when the second and final season begins? Then, dear ones, let me be wrong.
Oscar, are you there? Rome will erase every memory you have of what's-his-name (he of the hair extensions and excessively bronzed and oiled legs) yelling, "Is there no one else?"
If I were in Caesar's Rome, I would declare slowly and with undisguised yet quiet rage (perhaps while grabbing your gold-edged tunic):
This...I...say...to...you.
Alas, I am in the blogosphere and must put it this way:
I'm just sayin'.
2 comments:
hola ms ver,
i am currently without cable but will be looking out for "Rome" on DVD, foh sures.
in the meantime, i have stopped quoting mister jolie and am now quoting one bruce leroy at ill advised times. i.e., asking small children, when they need a late pass; who's da mastah???
to which the children dutifully reply: SHONUFF!
love ya like ceasar loved a good senate meeting!
Okay, Mr. Bermeo, well I guess that's better than making them beg on their knees. Right? Right?
And this just in from me, on the couch, having finished watching the season opener. Final scene: Lucius Vorenus ascending a staircase while clutching the head—yes, just the blood-draining head—of scumbag Orestes Fulmen. And behind Lucius, of course, walks the ever-loyal Titus Pullo.
For the record, I'm aware that this description is striking a chord for, sadly, only two of my blog readers. Hello Spousal Unit! Hello Libby!
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