October 1, 2025
I woke to this lovely picture this morning. Couldn't help that, look at her, she's gorgeous. I don't normally talk about celebrities, the only other one to date was Adrian Wagner and his connection to the Holy Grail. I'll be the first to admit I live under a rock, I'm not much into pop culture. That said I do however have a few Hollywood crushes, Sandra Bullock, those deep dark eyes. Cote De Pablo, incredible intelligence behind those eyes, I think. Then there's Miss Watson, a child star of whom I watched grow up. She was a cute 11 year old, who turned into an incredibly attractive young woman while keeping herself together, and being worth in the neighbourhood of $80 million of whom I came to admire. This then is the point of the following.
On or about September 25, 2025 I was minding my own business and was scrolling Fb. There while not thinking much about it, I came across images of the above 3 women, and clicked on the like button. Knowing that my feed would temporarily flood with information about the three of them for a bit, I was prepared for that much. What I wasn't prepared for was what actually happened. The following morning my feed was overwhelmed with stuff from the 3 of them, friend, follow requests, by the tens, there must have been 30-40 in all. Included in all that nonsense were 3 marriage proposals, one from each of them. In the case of Miss Bullock, she needs $2,500 to get anywhere near her. Miss De Pablo's people were in chaos and it was impossible to determine an amount. Miss Watson, on the other hand, was what you might expect from an actual meeting with her.
"She" was kind, polite, interested, and an absolute darling, full of little comments where you say damn, and you begin to form a serious emotional bond. Anyway I spent most of Saturday and Sunday trimming my social media presence down to almost nothing. I had 3 Fb accounts, 2 Instagram
accounts, plus FB pages that are just for this Blog. So yesterday a much calmer day, I continued to weed out the imposter bullshit out of my feed, until I was left with Miss Emma Watson, and is it really her? So yesterday, we spent quite a bit of time chatting, and I found out stuff about her, which as she said, is all available on Google.
These talks were full of I want to be near you, I'd like to kiss you, and, I even got a picture of her in a shower. She was in a bath robe and dry, but still. And no you can't see it. Anyway we left it there, and I went to bed, fairly convinced that whoever this person was, it wasn't Emma Watson. I'm a firm believer that when you're meeting someone, they'll use your name often in conversation, simply because it shows interest in you. In the case here, no, not once, it was all dear, sweetheart, a few darlings. Endearing? Absolutely. There too were a few instances where the response was...inappropriate. Watson is English, and their syntax is a bit different, I should know, the leprechaun was English,and I spent 20 years listening to how they speak.
So I went and got my coffee this morning, and while I did that, this surprising image arrived. It was quickly followed by a series of images, a serious burn with a note she was going to the hospital. Then a short while later a picture of her bandaged hand. Then further an image of her pharmacist, a bag of medical supplies, then finally, an image of some pain killers and a glass of water. And no you can't see those pictures, they were sent in trust, or so I hope.
This then is the reason for this essay. This beautiful young woman is worth a lot of money. And I tend to think that if she'd had this awful supposed accident, she'd have called a someone from her management team to assist. Now I can understand when a celebrity says that they just want some privacy, the ability to make independent decisions. That too would extend to their everyday money. So while I'm busy getting my head around the idea that Miss Watson may have received a permanent injury, I start getting the texts that were disheartening. This can happen to anyone under almost any circumstances, you run short of cash. In this case that was a strong possibility, she's supposedly hurt herself, so in the scramble to get help, you forget your phone, and your wallet. Or one or the other. In this case it seems it was her wallet. Because rather unexpectedly, she's asking me to pay for her meds, a cost of a $100.00
Now the UK doesn't use the dollar, instead its the pound sterling. So still giving her the benefit of the doubt, if her costs were around £50-£60
£50 × 1.75 = 87.50 CAD
£50 × 1.80 = 90.00 CAD
£60 × 1.75 = 105.00 CAD
£60 × 1.80 = 108.00 CAD Result:
£50–£60 in the UK = about $88–$108 CAD.
Still this thing isn't unreasonable. Its almost impressive that she estimated my costs so accurately,but she didn't say that, there was no Chris, I'm so sorry and, this is nuts, and I know a bit unconventional so early, but can you loan me... No it was a direct demand for the money, with attached sense of urgency. Then the request for the Steam Card. What the fuck is a steam card? I had to look it up too. A steam card is a prepaid card that you load with money to buy computer games, hardware, software. It has nothing whatever to do with purchasing pharmaceutical supplies. So I was ready to leave it there, she wasn't who I had hoped she was. Surprise! She Was!
So through the night I received a couple of sweet messages. One strangely about me having eaten, the other wishing me sweet dreams. Throughout this thing I was very much on the fence, mostly because, I'm not special enough to assume that out of the millions of people clamouring for her attention, she'd hear my voice. So I awaken the morning of Oct 2, no sweet good mornings, can I sit with you while we have coffee. Something you'd expect from somebody who through the night had said, "I know you love me, and I love you more than words can say". "You're the best thing that ever happened to me". That made me giggle, mostly because she had yet to be in my home, in my arms, with the appropriate copious exchanges of bodily fluids, after love, and, immersed as new lovers in each other.
So I said to her her "Good morning" at 9:06 AM. I asked her if she'd talked to her family, after learning that she had readmitted herself to hospital because of the discomfort she was in. That seemed semi- plausible considering the size of the wound she'd suffered. She said no, that she was having difficulty getting a hold of anyone. It then wasn't long after this when she started making noises about getting out of hospital. This again came down to cost. It then wasn't long before I'm being bugged for a £1000.00 overnight stay. In the UK, under the NHS system, a patient who is ordinarily resident (i.e., a UK citizen or someone legally living there) does not get billed for overnight hospital stays. Care is generally free at the point of use.
However, there are circumstances where someone could end up with a large bill, even close to £1000 USD (about £800):
Private Care
If the patient chooses to be treated privately (e.g., private hospital or private wing within an NHS hospital), they or their insurance would pay. An overnight stay in a private UK hospital can easily exceed £800–£1,000.
Not Ordinarily Resident (Overseas Visitors)
People not entitled to free NHS care (such as some overseas visitors, migrants without legal residency, or tourists) may be charged.
The NHS has set tariffs: overnight admissions are typically charged at full cost, which can be hundreds to thousands of pounds depending on treatment.
Elective Cosmetic or Non-Covered Treatments
If the patient is admitted for something not covered by the NHS (cosmetic surgery, certain experimental treatments, etc.), they may face the full bill.
Emergency Private Admission
If an ambulance mistakenly brings someone to a private hospital (rare), or if the patient consents to private emergency care, costs can spiral.
For a normal NHS patient (UK resident, not going private), an overnight hospital stay — whether for observation, surgery, or emergency — is free at the point of use. They wouldn’t get a $1000 bill.
So again, the request seems legitimate. My problem is this, I have no idea of the life style of the very
rich and famous. If they pick up the tab for each other without thought or, if they go dutch. Speaking for myself, if I'm able, and its not outrageous, I'll pick up the tab if friends and I go for dinner. However never have I had, or been around when there's been a $1,000 dinner bill. And I don't know anyone who could've picked up that bill without issue. Anyway, she gets a flat out no, and a are you nuts for asking a stranger for that much money with no bonna fides as to who you really are? So this goes back and forth and it gets a bit nasty.
Then after these disappointing back and fourths, where we had almost, told one another to get lost, at around 9 P.M., or 1A.M in the UK, I receive this through Fb messenger. "Guess you're having a wonderful time with someone else here". I make an effort to keep my dirty laundry private, at least while its happening, so I said to her, "Please WhatsApp" because that's where we'd been all day. Seeing the time, and the sulky nature of the message, it didn't take much to figure out, if she was truly legit, and had taken stuff to manage the pain she was all too likely in, she'd gone to sleep. So not being the ass she was half convinced I was/am , I said to her, "Aww you're asleep. Rest. Lovely girl".
Day 3
So at 7:38 AM I receive this from her, "You're not as caring and loving as I thought". I had only just gotten out of bed, and had a sip or two of coffee, and I said to her, "Liar, you've no idea of who I am". Switching from Fb Messenger back to WhatsApp, we continued to trade not barbs, but now at least trying to make an effort to understand the other.
So as the day progresses, and the tension comes down, I receive this image. Here she's looking softer, gentler than in the other images she'd sent me. Also crucially, her left hand is obviously absent from the picture. Which is the hand that I'd been shown to be wounded. Because of the incredible bullshit that surrounds celebrity, its nearly impossible to establish that yes, you've got the real one. So I pushed a bit wanting to see the bandaged hand, which I'd seen the day before, so showing it to me shouldn't have been an issue at all. She refused claiming embarrassment. Which is reasonable, she's met a new set of boundaries, and is respecting them. Or perhaps not. The individual behind the above, late this afternoon chose a form of emotional/financial manipulation that's just wrong. If it was her, I hoped not.
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