Husband: Why did Benedict not wear a tuxedo?
Husband: Because he didn’t have a cumberbund!
Husband: What do you call a line of people waiting to see Benedict?
Me: Are you serious?
Husband: A Queue Cumber!
This, my friends, is what I have to put up with from my husband on a regular basis, all because of one solitary celebrity free pass. If you’ve read my blog or have known me for a millisecond (or are married to me), you’d know who floats my celebrity boat (I could have been much cruder, so be thankful please).
I know, I know, you’re thinking how could I possibly have such a crush when I have a funny-as-fuck husband?
That is why.
And if that doesn’t convince you, then how about this…
You either get the Benedict thing or you don’t, I’m not here to convert you (in fact, I’d prefer it if you weren’t converted). My husband doesn’t get the Benedict attraction at all. I suspect that I blush whenever I hear Benedict’s name which makes me look guilty as fuck. But fear not, I haven’t been looking at illicit cumberporn (wait………… no, I definitely haven’t), I just find him lovely. Compelling. And that voice. Holy man, I think my ovaries just did a little shwing.
I’m into men who aren’t perfect looking and don’t take themselves too seriously, and he’s an AMAZING actor. It’s all about the acting for me (except when it’s *cough* not), particularly actors who make their name playing high-functioning sociopaths, arse-poked aristocrats, middle-eastern villains, gay genii and incestuous lovers. The man is nothing if not versatile.
You’ve heard of the Celebrity free pass/shag, the celeb(s) that your partner would let you have a bit of howsyerfather with if you ever met them. But let’s face it, if I ever met Benedict I would probably pee my pants and that’s not conducive to much more than having wet pants.
But let’s not limit ourselves to just one free pass, now. Hell no, that would be just selfish (and I have it on good authority that 5 is a reasonable number). Or if you are on Pinterest, that number sometimes swells.
1. Benedict (Sherlock). Because poshity-posh and intelligent Brits can be hot as hell. Brainy is the new Sexy, yo.
2. Andrew Lincoln (The Walking Dead/Love Actually). The ultimate silver fox, I’ve had a thing for Andrew since 1997 and that’s a bloody long time. Longer than I’ve known my husband, longer than you might get for armed robbery, so this man clearly has some staying power. Husband totally doesn’t understand his hair, though.
3. Jensen Ackles (Supernatural). One half of “my boys”, I get shit from my husband about Jensen, but not nearly as much as I do about Benedict. It’s a sport for the man I married, clearly.
4. Dan Smith (lead singer of Bastille). A relative newcomer to the fold, it’s Dan’s voice that kills me, a voice you could fall asleep to. I’m not saying anymore about sleeping because, inappropriate. Yet another man whose hair my husband doesn’t understand. Actually, I don’t understand it either, but I like my celebrity crushes a little bit peculiar.
5. Joshua Jackson (Dawson’s Creek/Fringe). OK, so I was always a Pacey girl (tell me you were a Dawson girl and I’ll cut you down) but the man has aged like a champion stallion. Mmmmmm, horse analogy. Not so sure about that one.
If you haven’t seen this drunken GQ Awards “speech” already, it’s worth it for the awkwardly tipsy ramblings, the f-bomb, and a man who loses his words so spectacularly. At least he didn’t vomit on James McAvoy. Benedict. Keeping it real.
Thank you very good much!
Who is your Celebrity Freepass?
Linking up with Kirsty’s “I must confess”, who is talking all things celebrity free pass like.