With our imperfect knowledge and limited faculties constrained, as they are, by the hedges of time and space, we cannot "know," in the narrow, popularly-used sense of the word, which of the Ten Commandments Blake Lively violated that prompted God to turn her birthday into a bee hell, but it was probably 9.
I don't know enough about insects to say if they were wasps, honeybees or Mother Nature's miniature flying tasers. What I DO know, is that just moments before we were in the midst of a gorgeous fall fashion shoot. Now, I was a Monty Python sketch; running at top speed in no particular direction, whipping my arms and hands around like I'd just discovered they were growing out of my shoulders without my previous knowledge. There was a terrible sound piercing the air too… I was later informed this sound had emanated from my very own mouth. I'd prefer to never hear it again. Along with everybody else on the East Coast.
In the same post, the actress catalogued the exact sensations she experienced as the bees' angry stingers were purposely and precisely embedded into her flesh over and over again by the steady, invisible hand of our infallible God:
Does your butt quite suddenly (and painfully) deflate when you turn 27? Because mine hurt like hell …then my neck, back, legs and forehead. And oh my hands! They were shriveling. It felt like I was being shot by dozens of tiny invisible darts. I felt like the Wicked Witch, melting, melting, burning, melting.
As it happens, I wasn't being greeted by the onset of spontaneous aging, but rather a full-fledged bee day. Attacked. All over. Everywhere.
In the end, Lively used the traumatic experience as an opportunity to talk about how she will always be young at heart, which is proof that Blake Lively can ruin anything, even if it is the kind of thing you would normally love, such as a story about Blake Lively being attacked by bees.
It wasn't until I covered the counters in coordinating candy sprinkles that I stopped to acknowledge: my butt will deflate more and more, my hands will shrivel and permanently prune, but I will never, ever grow up.
Maybe next time God will cover those counters in BEES.
[Image via Getty]