I Would Rather Be Eaten By Bears Than Be Bieber’s Assistant

Last night I had a dream that I was being chased by bears.  I vaguely recall that the bears turned into another scary creature, and then another one, and another one, but I only specifically remember the bears.  I escaped by running into a hotel through a revolving door, which I then locked behind me with some sort of bear-repelling revolving door lock.  In that moment, I thought, “Hey self, you know how you always thought being eaten by bears would be an interesting way to go, because it would make a good story for your friends to tell?  Well, I’ve changed my mind now.  I really would not like to be eaten by bears at this particular point in time.”  

I happend to wake up sometime after this dream, look at the clock and find that I had enough time to go back to sleep, remember that it didn’t matter what time it was because I never work on Fridays anyway, and dozed off again.

Back in dreamland, I imagined that I was Justin Bieber’s assistant.  Before you judge me for dreaming about Bieber (ugh), I would explain that a girl at work is moving to Canada in a couple weeks and we were talking about all things Canadian yesterday when we were supposed to be writing emails.  ANYway, he was a pain in the ass (suprise, surprise), and there must have been some dream carry-over, because I remember thinking, “If I open up the stage doors, do you think the bears will come in and eat him?  If the bears do come in and eat him, will that make teenage girls everywhere hate bears?  I don’t want to make him into a martyr for the Bears: The Number One Threat to America movement.  I’m pretty sure Stephen Colbert would agree that Bieber is a bigger threat to America than bears.”  Unfortunately, bears did not come and eat Bieber, and I had to continue carrying out his offensive and tyrannical whims.

Being Bieber’s assistant was a lot scarier than being chased by bears.


A Totally Thorough and Thoughtful Review of the New Star Trek Movie

*Warning* This may contain a spoiler.  I say “may” because the information I might spoil was not news to me, but apparently it is to some people who live under rocks.  Now…

Here is my review of Star Trek Into Darkness:

I want to have Benedict Cumberbatch’s odd-looking and strangely beautiful babies.

I think Kirk and Spock did some sort of bromance-y thing, and there were some Klingons, and stuff blew up, and there were space torpedoes fired or something like that.  I expected most of those things, but what I did not expect was to be (set phasers to) stunned by the villainous sex appeal oozing off screen by Benedict Cumberbatch as (here’s the potential spoiler alert) super-baddie Khan.

I have seen BBC’s Sherlock, and while I enjoy it, I had never before considered His Royal Cumberness in terms of any level of attraction.  A good actor, yes, fun to watch, sure, but not necessarily worthy of my lady parts’ attention.  But dear god, whatever they did to him for his role in Star Trek set my pheromones alight.  Let’s compare:



Not unattractive, but not head-turningly attractive either.  Normal level of “brains-make-you-more-appealing” sexiness.  Maybe it’s because I’m not really into curly hair.



HELLO, YOU SMOLDERING PACKAGE OF HANDSOME.  Do your genetically-enhanced super-human abilities extend to more than kicking ass and killing people willy-nilly?  Might I try to calm your wrath with a snog and a cuddle?

I’m not exactly sure what it is about this guy.  Maybe it’s because sometimes he seems so unassuming and normal, and sometimes borderline strange-looking (seriously, just do a Google image search on him), making the sexy times that much more full of impact.  Like, George Clooney looks good all the time, so it’s really nothing special anymore.  George Clooney bores me.  Whereas Benny Cumbers chooses his moments, and because you know the sexy is always there bubbling below the surface in a more subtle way, he’s that much more attractive.

Here’s where I’d like to think that I could call dibs on Cumby, because the movie came out in Ireland and a few other choice countries before the US and the rest of the world, and therefore – I saw him first.  But then I find out that I am a little late to this party, and there is a whole legion of already-swooning fans calling themselves Cumberbitches, who sound like a group I would not want to mess with.  Then again, he probably couldn’t be my next husband anyway, because according to a few articles I found on the Google, he’s broody (in the parental sense, not in the dark and moody sense) and wants a family, and despite the fact that I wouldn’t mind the Cumberbaby-making part, I probably would mind the carrying them to full term and rearing them parts.  Also, my current husband would probably have a problem with all of those parts, I’m guessing.

I just like to say his name.  Benedict Cumberbatch.  It’s fun.  It’s like someone one day said, “My goodness, I’ve got a ton of cucumbers.  I have so many cucumbers I practically have a whole batch.  What will I call this large number of cucumbers?  I know, I’ll call it a cumberbatch.  That will save me seconds of precious time whenever I need to articulate the idea of oodles of cucumbers.”

Pretty instantly, C-Batch has now made it to the top of my list.  Sorry, Ryan Gosling, Ewan McGregor, Hugh Jackman as Wolverine, Patrick Stewart (if I was 30 years older I would be all over that shit), and young Harrison Ford.  You’ve been knocked down a peg or two.

So yeah, Star Trek.  It was alright, I think.  I’m definitely going to see it again.  Maybe a couple more times.  You should go see it, too, but remember, I get dibs on the Cumberbatch.