I'm watching the Roger Corman classic Fall of the House of Usher, and I greatly admire dude's steadfasted insistence on being with his fiancee Madeline. But I must say. Between the super-creepy graveyard decor of the neighborhood, the insanely spooky brother and the, you know, CRYPTS OF DEAD PEOPLE THROUGHOUT THE HOUSE, I might actually leave fairly immediately after arrival. With all that spookiness going on, unless she can wrap her tongue around my prostate while writing out the Colonel's secret recipe, I'd be like "you know what...she ain't THAT hot..." and gets to steppin out on my merry way. "So, this is your place, huh?...you know, I think we should start seeing other people..." That make me a loveless, un-romantic asshole? Really?
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