I was at work, rendering a 3D model of the thalamus, when I heard about the Texas tornadoes. Well, to be fair, my co-worker came tripping into my desk and exclaimed, “TORNADOES ARE THROWING 18-WHEELERS IN THE AIR LIKE FUCKING GRADUATION CAPS.” Now that is a statement that buys you ten minutes of my undivided attention.

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 Welcome to Friday’s (no longer Thursday, because I apparently can’t get my shit together on Thursdays) most ridiculous column, Cinematic Polyamory, which — for those of you playing the home game — basically amounts to an ongoing list of the famous people I want to bang.

Last week, I opened with my two number one celeb spouses: Emma Thompson and Steven Spielberg. Today’s lucky duo have been on the list since 2005; celeb hubby #2 has been fixed at numero duo ever since I clapped eyes on him, while celeb wife #2 took about a year to get to her current spot. Never the less, they remain two of the most powerful actors today and someday I will be married to one or both of them. Because I have goals. And I always accomplish my goals. Just give me a pack of Orbit Wintermint gum, a pair of scissors, some lube, and a duck mask, and I’ll have what I want within an hour or so.

Terrified? You damn well should be.

As that Kabuki-looking chick from The Hunger Games says: ladies first.

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Mahky-mahk, Russian Babe McGee, and Peter Griffin team up for a movie about a living teddy bear. Yeah, I’ll give you a minute to re-read that. The thing is, Seth MacFarlane is a pretty clever bastard when he wants to be. Remember when Family Guy was good? You know, before he relinquished creative control and then it devolved into Misogyny Weekly? So I actually have semi-high hopes for this. I mean, if anything, it’ll be a raunchy comedy for me to enjoy; I probably laughed way harder than I was supposed to while watching this.

Hit the jump to watch the VERY MUCH NSFW trailer.

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I love Dumb and Dumber. It’s one of my “movies to watch when I’m sick” staples, even if the “doggy bag” scene scarred me for life as a child (it was a long time before I could look at a beating heart without making a face). I totally overlooked the prequel, because, well. But the fact remains, the movie is a classic and I know  it will remain untouched by the fingers of some greedy Hollywood execut–

Sorry, what was that? I… oh.

Well, fuck.

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Some laboratory in Boston (represent!) has been hard at work with some ridiculously cool new tech for the army, including a “sand flea” that can hop 9 meters to avoid things, and a goddamn “cheetah”  that reaches running speeds up to 30kph, the fastest robot speed ever recorded. I don’t know about you, but I need at least 10 of these. Each.

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I’m currently on the AMTRAK, en route to the Big Apple, and just overheard the following conversation:

Person 1: Wanna go to the movies later?
Person 2: What do you wanna see?
Person 1:  Remember the movie about the Greek gods and stuff? The guy from Avatar is in it. The sequel just came out. I really want to see it — it looks so good.

Despite my skepticism of Person 1’s ability to someday produce intelligent, contributing offspring, his enthusiasm for the film in question (“Wrath of the Titans”) gave me pause. Because, honestly? I haven’t seen a single commercial for it. I had to go to IMDB to make sure it was, like, an actual thing, and then I was like, “Rosamund Pike, why are you in this movie? You are better than this.”
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I bet you didn’t know this, but I’m a huge polygamist. Not the creepy Mormon kind, but the “holy shit there are too many attractive people that I want to bang for me to even think about being monogamous” kind. You see, I have about 27 celebrity husbands and 15 or 16 celebrity wives, and I’ve been gathering my famous spouses like beanie babies since, oh, 2001. I am married to 43 people. 43, you fuckers. It’s a big list, one that has been in flux since the start. Oh, I have my fixed 10, and they will remain in their spots on the list until the day I die and take my rightful place on the throne of Hell, but I’m constantly marrying and divorcing other people like it’s my job.

And guess what? Every Thursday, you’ll get to learn about 1 or 2 of them. Prepare yourself for Cinematic Polyamory, or “R.C.’s ovaries explode so often that the frequency can’t be textually rendered”. This post is a little late, as I spent last night stuffing my face at a fundraiser dinner, so apologies for cluttering up the Friday dashboard.

But why don’t we begin this ridiculousness with my number ones?
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Having been operating under the impression that “How To Train Your Dragon” was a complete one-off, I was shocked when someone on Tumblr linked me to the trailer for DreamWorks’s upcoming film, “Rise of the Guardians”, and it looked good. I mean, really good. The kind of good that usually isn’t associated with DreamWorks.

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Do you know how excited I am for this movie? I’ve been waiting since 1979  — and I wasn’t even fucking born yet.  I’ll always love Aliens, but the original Alien  owns 42% of my heart (Close Encounters of the Third Kind  owns the other 58%). To have Ridley Scott direct the prequel (and don’t tell me it’s not — the fucking space jockey is in the trailer) is pretty much every dream I’ve ever had come true. IN IMAX.

Here is the clip that premiered at WonderCon.

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Obviously the fact that some shitty Twilight fanfic was published and became a surprise bestseller means I should polish up all the fanfiction I wrote in high school and make bank.

I’m sure you can guess my feelings on the Twilight franchise; they’re right up there with my feelings on the MPAA. But they don’t come close  to my feelings on this piece of shit story (“50 Shades of Grey”) with its atrocious writing. No, seriously, that is an actual excerpt. And just when I thought things couldn’t get any worse, Universal and Focus Features bought the film rights.

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