We're Gonna Need a Big Cake to Fit All Those Damn Candles

Chuckles turns 50 today. :)

Chuck has been walking around yelling, "IIIIIIIII'm 50! 50 years old!" this whole last week.

You probably want to watch this video if you don't know what I'm on about.

Chuck's high kick isn't quite as high as Molly Shannon's, but then again he is missing a lung, so let's forgive him for that, shall we?

Some people celebrate their 50th birthdays by throwing a huge party, inviting friends and family from across the continent/world, just to congratulate them for making it this far or to make fun of them in front of everyone for being old. Or both.

What is Chuck doing for his?

Skydiving?

Running a marathon?

Scaling Mt. Kilimanjaro?

None of the above.

Chuckles shares his birthday with the Superbowl this year. We're going over to a friend's house to watch the game, eat some homemade corn dogs and clam chowder, and have just a few other good friends to help him celebrate.

And make fun of him for being so old. :)

Currently, he's lying in bed in his pyjamas (which he never does this late in the morning) watching nature shows. 

What a badass, huh? Well, he got his wildness out years ago, thank the sweet baby Jesus in the manger.

He's done a lot in 50 years.

Was born...obviously (Chuck's the one sitting in the middle)

Went to school and played sports... (ball's behind you there, little Chuckles)

Joined the Marines after high school...

Got out of the Marines and grew a beard...

Shaved off beard and met an awesome, hot, young, Canadian chick...

Survived cancer...

Married awesome, young, hot, Canadian chick...

Went on adventures to see all sorts of awesome things...(and he did get to climb a mountain as you can see, just not one in Africa)

Married off his oldest daughter...

....and his favourite, finally got to see a UNC Tar Heel basketball game in person.

Like, I said, Chuck's lived a full life in 50 years. Sometimes a little too full, there are stories I've heard about him that I don't even like to think about too hard, let alone blog about. Yikes.

Glad I got to spend the last 7 of Chuck's years with him.

I remember when I met him, he was just about to turn 43. I thought, "Wow, in 7 years, he'll be 50! And I'll be 30... That's so far away though...")

Well, 50's here now.

Happy Birthday, Chuckles!! You're 50!

50 years old!!!!!

Here's to the next 50 years!!

(And yes Chuck, I can hear you grumbling right now, "Not gonna make it another 50 years...*grumble*", and you can just stop it :) )

I Did it All For the Nook

Wow, that's an attractive thumbnail shot. Yikes.



Anyway, Merry Christmas, bitches! :D

Ps: Apparently I wear the same blue shirt in every photo and video I've ever been in.

You Can Cumber My Batch Anytime, Benedict

Dear Mr. Cumberbatch,

I really would appreciate it if you'd take a small vacation from my head.

 Just a small break will do. You must allow me some time to do other things.

Yes, yes, I know you want me to get straight into bed with you so that you can ravish me, no need to point.

But I have to get some housecleaning done. I can't concentrate on my work.

I've missed entire meals because you'll just happen to pop up in my YouTube playlist and then I'll sit there for hours listening to you read fairy tales with that delicious voice of yours. 

Your accent goes straight to my vagina.





I spent the afternoon in the hospital because my ovaries exploded.

And I will never be able to hear 'Little Red Hen' again without it eliciting a sexual response. But I forgive you.

I'm starting to lose friends because I can't talk about anything else.

Damn you and your awesome hair and awesome voice and awesome suit and awesome pink socks. 

And the Purple Shirt of Sex. Ohhhhhhhhh the Purple Shirt of Sex!

Non-believers know not the mighty power of the PSoS. Able to incinerate panties around the world in a single leap.

When you reply, please be kind enough to enclose reparation payments for all the underwear of mine that you've burnt to a crisp. I can't afford to buy any more.

And I see from the trailers of next season's 'Sherlock' that you once again wear the PSoS. You might as well send me the money for that now. I may have to stop wearing underwear altogether.

And did I mention the mental anguish I've been given from my husband? I think that he may be jealous of your phwoarness.

He says your eyes are too far apart and asks why I would want to be in love with someone that I'd have to stand on a chair to make out with? He just doesn't understand the dedication of a Cumberbitch. 

All I'm asking for is time.

Time to meet with friends, spend time with husband, and to sleep and to eat and to remember to breathe and stuff.

But not too much time. I don't think I could handle it for too long.

Ok, I changed my mind.

Already.

Forget what I said. I was in shock.

You're allowed to take up as much room in my head as you'd like. Stay as long as you like.

But make sure you're wearing the Purple Shirt of Sex.

Or a bedsheet is fine. It's all fine.

Love and kisses and squees and I'd like to climb you like a tree,

~Kyna

Ok. I just had to get that out.

Here's a fun fact: I discovered today that if you search the term 'Cumberbitch' on Google Images, about halfway down there are pictures of Chuckles, most awesomely the one of him wearing the tiara.

Cumberbitches everywhere are going to see the pictures, fall out of love with Benedict, and start drooling after my husband.

Wonder what his fangirls will be called?

Chuckfuckers?

Edit: I decided to start a Tumblr blog to feed my Ben-addiction. Please visit Cumberbitch Sandwich if you suffer from the same glorious affliction.

Some Kind of Wonderful

Chuck and I have been together for seven years today.


Us then:

Us now:

We're a little older and a little wider, erm, I mean wiser. But we're still happy.



Chuckles and I are awesome together for a lot of reasons.


1) We like to go on adventures. I've been places with him that this Canadian never thought she would ever get to go to.


Standing in front of the Lincoln Memorial in Washington D.C.

Chuck on the back steps of Thomas Jefferson's 'Monticello' in Virginia

Spelunking (oh, how I love that word) in Mammoth Cave, Kentucky.

2) Chuckles loves me even though I'm a complete weirdo. He lets me be exactly who I am. I can burst out into song and dance in the middle of the grocery store and he doesn't bat an eyelash. I swear like a sailor. I'm loud and opinionated. He accepts everything and loves me more for it.

3) I admire Chuckles because he doesn't give a shit about what people think of him. He does crazy things because he knows it will make me laugh. He lets me post pictures of him doing silly things all over the internet. I love hearing other people say, "I love Chuck." It's awesome to have a husband that everybody likes, instead of the other way around.

4) We both like the 'little things' in life.


Hanging out with good  friends....

The same music...

Going for picnics in the park...

Visiting museums....

Enjoying sunsets from our back porch...

Finding a cool place to enjoy the outdoors and take a picture...

Or even going on a fly-by-the-seat-of-your-pants, impromptu canoe trip.

5) Chuckles loves me for what I strongly believe in...

....And I love Chuckles for what he strongly believes in (*cough*even though the Browns always lose*cough*).

There's no one that I'd rather be with more. Even though both of us aren't easy to live with. I challenge him, he challenges me. We're both challenged. (hehe)

I've been with him through lung cancer. And his oldest daughter's wedding. I don't know which was more stressful!

I think the wedding.

Happy 7 years, Chuckles. Can't believe it's been that long already.

*mwah*