Dr. Horrible

Doctor_Horrible.jpg
I admit that it’s sometimes tricky buying gifts for The Fella. His favorite things in the entire world are baseball and movies. His mother always gets him the appropriate baseball-related gear, and I hate to step on her turf, especially when I’m so clueless. (Though last year, I did score a seemingly great book for him, simply by perking up every time anyone anywhere mentioned baseball for, like, a whole year.)
As for movies, well, he works in the world’s coolest video store; not only has he claimed responsibility for bringing home all the movies in the world, but it would be tricky to order anything without him finding out about it. Further, our tastes overlap so much that if there’s something he really really wants, he’s probably already ordered it for me, since I’ll really really want it, too.
The Fella and I had one of those Gift of the Magi conversations a couple of weeks ago, with sighs and pauses and a pathetic attempt at caginess.
E: Uh, there was a… thing… I was planning to get you for Christmas, but… uh… I thought it was possible you were getting it for me.
TF: Oh, I have one like that, too.
[both sigh]
TF: Is it… a movie?
E: maaaaaaaybe. [long pause] It might not even make it for Christmas — it’s not released yet.
TF: Oh! It’s — is it Joss-Whedon-related?
E:maaaaaaybe.
TF: Yup! I ordered it for you! For us!
Anyway, it arrived on Friday, and we watched it right away, and while I plan to write a full-fledged review, take this for what it’s worth: I’ve spent this snowy weekend cooking and baking and wrapping presents and puttering, and all the while I’ve been playing Dr. Horrible’s Sing-Along Blog straight through, beginning to end and over again, singing along.

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