My shameful past: A history of celebrity crushes
We all know I currently have the good taste to obsess over Sherlock Holmes himself, Mr. Benedict Cumberbatch. But the truth is: I haven’t always had good taste. Some of my celebrity crushes are … a bit embarrassing in retrospect. But because my humiliation is your entertainment, here’s a list of celebrities I used to adore!
Before we get into that, though, let’s all enjoy this photo of Benedict Cumberbatch!
1. Thriller-era Michael Jackson. I’m specifying the era here because at this point, his skin was still kind of dark, his nose hadn’t completely come off and there were no creepy child molestation allegations popping up yet.
I got over it by the second grade, though.
2.Rick Astley. It’s true. I was Rickrolled. (Is that even a thing anymore?)
Sexy nerd glasses alert!
3. Joey from the New Kids on the Block. Happily, I got over it, and did not attend any of their reunion concerts.
At least it looks like I picked the New Kid on the Block who would age the best.
4. Balthazar Getty. He was soooo cute in Young Guns 2!
Such a bad boy!
5. Emilio Estevez. He was soooo cute in Young Guns 2!
I, ah, really liked Young Guns 2.
6. Stephen Baldwin. I think. Anyway, whichever Baldwin brother was in that short-lived TV show about the Pony Express.
Oh, yup. Stephen.
7. Christian Slater. It was so bad, I even watched that terrible skateboarding movie he was in.
The good news is that I also watched Heathers.
8.Kiefer Sutherland. This one isn’t that embarrassing, because Mr. Sutherland is still pretty awesome, though not as awesome as his dad.
It was the Lost Boys that did it. Although he was also in Young Guns 2.
But Donald is such an enduring example of utter silver fox. Mrow.
9. Remington Steele. Er, I mean, Pierce Brosnan?
Wait, both those names are ridiculous.
10. Nelson. I loved them for their long blonde hair, I guess.
Or possibly their fabulous sense of style.
Damn you, Stephen King
It was pretty foggy this morning, so, as I went outside to get the paper, I announced: “If I don’t come back soon, don’t come looking for me, because I was probably devoured by fog monsters.”
When the dog didn’t come back inside after we got the newspapers, I said: “She probably got eaten by fog monsters.”
Later, after the dog returned safely to her hiding spot under my bed (“probably scared of the fog monsters,” I remarked), it was time to take my daughter to school. “Run straight to the car so the fog monsters don’t get you.”
“For the love of God, Mom,” said my daughter.
“I’m just a little kid and I’m way less scared of stupid things than you are.”
Stupid Walter Whites of the world, ruining it for everybody
As I suffer through this miserable cold, I long futilely for the only cold medicine that’s ever worked on my symptoms and helped me sleep at night: Sudafed Severe Cold (original formula).
Tragically, people were using Sudafed Severe Cold (original formula) to make meth, so they changed the formula. Now it’s Sudafed Severe Cold (new formula that doesn’t work).
In conclusion, DAMN YOU ALL I’M SICK AND MY NOSE WON’T STOP RUNNING AND I WANT MEDICINE THAT WORKS.
I wonder if it’s possible to buy meth and make it into Sudafed Severe Cold (original formula).
And also to get off all the watch lists I’m probably on after using the word “meth” so many times in one post.
Baby alpacas are also good
This morning, I saw a baby llama.
At first, I was going to gloat about it, all “I saw a baby llama and you didn’t,” but then I decided that everybody deserves to have a nice day, so here’s a picture of a baby llama to cheer you up.
Unless you don’t like baby llamas, you monster.
No, actually, I’m not a bunny
This weekend, my daughter’s school held its annual Halloween Party. While we stood in line to play one of the games, a kindergartner said to me: “I knew you were a bunny because I could see your ears in your car.”
Look! It’s three bunnies in a little car!! Three bunnies! In a little car!
“Actually, I’m not a bunny,” I replied. “I’m Louise Belcher.”
The kindergartner and surrounding adults stared at me blankly.
“From Bob’s Burgers?”
More blank stares.
“It’s a cartoon? Louise Belcher from Bob’s Burgers?”
“That’s it. I am so transferring you to a school where people watch good television.”
But will things explode?
Yeah, so, The Fifth Estate. Benedict Cumberbatch! As a silver fox! Intrigue! Conspiracies!
Benedict Cumberbatch with white hair!
I … still don’t care. I don’t care about WikiLeaks. I don’t care about Julian Assange. And I don’t care about this movie.
I do, however, care about Benedict Cumberbatch with white hair.
A love letter to R. Dorothy Wayneright
Dear R. Dorothy Wayneright,
I think that you are probably my favorite lady android.
Sorry, Caprica 6.
You are, R. Dorothy Wayneright, incredibly badass. I mean: You’re the android assistant of a Batman pastiche! That makes you like Robin, if Robin was a lady android and didn’t suck.
“Hey!”
You live in a land populated by giant robot monsters that may or may not be a Matrix-like computer simulation and that doesn’t phase you one bit. Why, R. Dorothy Wayneright?
Because you’re wonderful.
Also, let’s all watch The Big O!
There are many things I love about you, like how cute you are in your little housemaid outfit and how you bonded with that cat that was actually a transformed little boy (that was a weird episode, amiright, R. Dorothy Wayneright?) and how you play the piano perfectly and how you make jokes without changing your inflection at all.
You are so cute, pianist R. Dorothy Wayneright!
But the best thing about you, R. Dorothy Wayneright, is that you are one kick-ass fighting machine. Like remember the time when you got shot with an arrow bomb (that was a weird episode too, amiright, R. Dorothy Wayneright?), but before the bomb exploded, you leaped onto a car and directed into the path off an oncoming semi, severing the arrow in twain (in twain, R. Dorothy Wayneright!), saving yourself and also (probably) the drivers of both vehicles. That’s not really a fight, I guess, R. Dorothy Wayneright, unless you count it as a fight to save your life, but it was so awesome I had to mention it. Basically, R. Dorothy Wayneright, you are here to chew bubblegum and kick ass, except you didn’t bring any bubblegum because why would an android chew bubblegum?
“That is a puzzler.”
I love you, R. Dorothy Wayneright. If things don’t work out with the Japanese Batman, I’ll pick you up on the rebound so hard you just don’t even know.
… OK, fine, maybe I would try to get you two crazy kids back together.
All the annoyance points to me!
My mother is reading a book right now that, she tells me, advises you to drop all your prejudices.
Having wasted away my misspent youth at rock concerts, I replied: “Why would they want me to jot down my prejudices?”
“Eh?”
“Drop,” she said, louder. “DROP your prejudices.”
“Oh. Well, why would they want me to do that?”
“Does it count if, when I had to read Pride and Prejudice, I disliked it so much I dropped it?”
“Because it’s about a Muslim couple and all the difficulties they’ve faced after 9-11.”
“But I’m not prejudiced against Muslims, so why would I need to drop my prejudices?”
My mother, beginning to be irritated: “Well, then, I guess it’s for the 85 percent of people who are.”
“But they wouldn’t read that book.”
“They might!”
“Sure, Mom. ‘You know, I’ve been looking for a book that will change my opinion on those people I hate irrationally, and this looks like just the ticket.'”
My mother, giving me the look. “I don’t know why I even bother.”
“I should have left you to be raised by wolves when I had the chance!”
“Me either!”
Also, I’m so sure our library has books that want us to drop our prejudices, but nothing on Depression-Era Crime?
Two words, toy makers: Body. Pillow.
Yea finally I can get a Sherlock Holmes figurine that looks like Benedict Cumberbatch.
Did I say “yea”? I think I meant GAHHHHHHHH.
Except it’s creepy and I don’t like it, so here’s a picture of a cute Sherlock toy that makes me happy.
Awwwwww!
Several facts about Depression-Era Crime
Because of my recent fascination with Depression-Era Crime, I have gained much knowledge on Depression-Era Crime. Here’s a list of 10 of the things I’ve learned, because I know, deep down, you care a lot.
1. The local library has no books on Depression-Era Crime. Actually, that’s not quite true. The library has one terrible book on the Lindbergh Baby Kidnapping, which happened during the Depression Era. I had to special-order everything else.
“The crazy sister-in-law did it! … Oh, I’m sorry, were you looking for FACTS to support that theory?”
2. Pretty Boy Floyd was definitely involved in the Kansas City Massacre.
“What, me?”
3. Pretty Boy Floyd was definitely NOT involved in the Kansas City Massacre.
“Seriously, maybe some historians could agree on this or not?”
4. J. Edgar Hoover never actually arrested anyone until Alvin Karpis. And accounts vary, but either Hoover leaped upon Karpis with great aplomb, dropping snarky witticisms all the while, or he hid in a corner till Karpis was safely in custody and stuttered out a “You’re under arrest.” (Quick! Guess which version is Hoover’s account and guess which one is Karpis’s.) All accounts agree, however, that the FBI went in expecting Karpis to resist a lot harder, so nobody had any handcuffs because they expected him to be shot to death. His hands were eventually tied behind his back with an agent’s necktie.
And then he stayed in Alcatraz till he was old, and then he died of a drug overdose in Spain.
5. Speaking of Alvin Karpis, according to his autobiography, he absolutely never killed anybody. Whenever anybody was murdered by the Barker-Karpis gang, it was always the other guys that did it.
“The whole gang’s a bunch of mass-murdering criminals, except me!”
6. Harry “Handsome Harry” “Pete” Pierpont was the only member of the Dillinger gang to die by the electric chair. Everybody else got shot to death. Pierpont almost got shot to death, but they made sure to save him so they could electrocute him later.
Pictured here: Harry Pierpont, still plotting your death.
7. Anna Sage, the “Woman in Red,” who betrayed John Dillinger, leading to his death, was actually wearing orange. She’s a good example of why you shouldn’t betray your comrades to the feds, because they shot Dillinger to death while he was standing right next to her, which sounds like a pretty quick way to get hit by “friendly fire.”
And later she was deported back to Romania. Although she did get the award money. Well, some of it. The rest went to a corrupt cop.
8. The moniker “G-Men,” often attributed to “Machine Gun” Kelly, who supposedly uttered, upon his arrest, “Don’t shoot, G-Men!”, was most likely created by Hoover and publicists, to make the FBI sound cooler. Hoover was big on appearances.
Funnily enough, the moniker “Machine Gun” was given to him by his wife, who was also big on appearances. He would have been content to go by “George.”
9. Bonnie Parker and Clyde Barrow were little fish in a small pond. All the other Depression-Era Criminals hated them. That is, if they’d ever heard of them. They didn’t really become famous until the ’70s, when that one movie came out.
I forget the name.
10. Lester Gillis, aka “Baby Face” Nelson, really hated his nickname. But with a nickname like Baby Face, that’s kind of a given.
“Sorry, Lester, but it’s just that you have a face like a baby.”
Hollywood Hates Me 