To move away from the rather grim realities of Gaza genocide, public policy, pedophiles, politicians, and so on, it all being grim mostly due to an absence of all of these parasites, mass murderers, and child rapists swinging from trees and lampposts, I thought I would share a slightly lighter event from my life, and that is my wife and I’s discussion of my celebrity crush: Emily Blunt.
When we watch the odd film, that my wife manages to stay awake for past the initial credits, there was a time that if Dwayne Johnson was in it, she would say “Oh yes!” to it, she has since gone completely off him after some allegations (I have no knowledge about their veracity or otherwise) that appeared somewhere that he was for hire to service men or women in what I think is the male equivalent of “yachting” for female actresses. Anyway, her tastes vary generally, or are more broad than mine.
I, a true connoisseur of refined taste, have only really had two celebrity crushes (and yes, yes, let’s all just pretend Hollyweird is not a hive of pedophiles and worse for a minute here, this is fantasy land territory).
The first was Madeline Stowe, who in her prime was a vision, and more recently, Emily Blunt.
Oh, there was also Famke Jannsen, but a couple of years ago I saw her in a new film or TV series or something, and Oh, my God… my brain was fried. Whoever her plastic surgeon was should be hung, drawn and quartered. While she was not quite Donatella Versace level of African Mask make-over, it was a rude shock. So much so my brain has practically excised her from memory.
So it’s Madeline Stowe, and yes, she has slightly asymmetrical features, and they only make her prettier.
And when Madeline was gracefully “retired” in my mind, the only other actress I found very attractive was Emily Blunt.
They might seem quite different women, but they are both in that range of beauty that goes near or above 9 and from which, no real agreement between men can be reached. No one is a 10 to everyone, but some are tens to some. Beyond 9, the numbers get hazy. As does the sanity, of course, as I wrote about many moons ago, nevertheless, while Stowe could have been described as more Latino-ish and smouldering, and Blunt more quintessentially English, they both have a playfulness that would no doubt come into it behind closed doors. I also probably had a soft spot for Emily because in many ways she does remind me quite a bit of my wife. Aside the pretty looks, they have quirky senses of humour, although I suspect Emily’s dark side is kept a little away from the cameras. But overall there is a playful intelligence and the generally somewhat amusing English shyness mixed with slightly ridiculous rigid logic and somewhat absurd concepts of empathy and humanity makes such women endearing to me.
Anyway, given our dark humour, my wife and I habitually tease each other on pretty much anything and everything. Needling each other with our hypothetical “crushes” on random actors/actresses is part of the fun. Of course, for all we know they are horrible people in real life, or maybe not, but I somehow think it’s unlikely we’d ever bump into them at the local rural market on a random Tuesday and find out or become great friends, so it’s all just fantasy.
Today, my wife struck a low blow. I received this message… out of the blue.
https://www.veraclinic.net/emily-blunt-plastic-surgery/
So uncalled for. Hurtful really.
I protested, said it was all lies, just vicious gossip. Our text conversation was quite tragic.
As I asserted Emily was all natural, and I was willing to prove it with my body! For science! She retorted that I would never be able to tell if Emily would enjoy the process, what with her being practically mummified now.
Wife: Shame, it made her eyes all wonky.
Me: LIES!!
Wife:
Me: Jealousy makes you evil!
Wife: Emily is a waxwork now darling, Lol!
I tried to placate the green monster…
Me: I remember thinking she’s around your age in the last film I saw (some drama about big Pharma) and she clearly has aged but is still pretty and I thought she is one of the few that has aged nearly as well as you…
I wasn’t falsely flattering her, I do think that.
Wife: But alas, she succumbed to the call of the plastic. Vain little creature.
Me: (more seriously) but did she? I skimmed the article you sent and couldn’t notice from the pictures in it I glanced at.
Wife: I saw pictures of her at a recent event and was like: Shit, what has she done?
Me: No! Not Emily!
Wife: I know it may take some time for these news to set in, But you’re a smart man, and clearly, though your brain gets all dizzy and F* up around certain types of women…
Me: Hot slutty ones?
Wife: you will clearly see in front of you here a botched bit of facial work. Sad. So sad Emily.
Me: (expecting a sadly revealing picture) No! Spare me the trauma! Let me Dream!
Wife: Ok.
Wife: Emily can’t do that (wink)
Me: (Waiting)
Me: You really not going to send it? I thought you knew me better than that. Send it!
Wife:
Me:
Wife:
Wife: Now she’s angry
You just can’t tell.
Me: (Laughing)
Wife: Bitch has gone full Essex on you!
Me: I can still dream… maybe seen from behind…
Wife: For now… but she’s on the train…
Me: Wow… the knives! The SCALPELS you’re throwing at poor Emily!
Wife: I can’t help it. I’m disappointed in her.
Me: (knowing this is probably true actually) Still, the cattiness… ferocious!
Wife: Ah… go write about it. (We have another way of saying this in Italian I think. It also starts with “Ah…” and also “Go…” slightly different ending though.)
Me: I will!
Wife: I’m sure.
Me: Title? Wife Savages Emily Blunt! Husband Worst Hit!
Wife: How I know She Loves me. Hahahaha
And so there you have it, ladies and gentlemen.
And Emily, if you ever read this… please, for the love of God, stop. You’re still beautiful, and you know, you can come round our place and my wife can give you a pep talk about self-confidence. Or I can. It’ll be fine, we’re Catholics, we can’t divorce, and I still have good reflexes, the knife stabs probably won’t kill me. Maybe a little scarring, but hey, you’re not new to that eh?
Oh and even if I liked his Jack Ryan series, it’s ok, you can leave the husband at home, someone needs to look after the kids after all.
Yeah, that’s how we roll. We’re not really very nice people. That’s why we’re Catholics. God came to save the worst of the lot, didn’t you know?
